#to distract the instructor so not all the focus is on me

[unamused-kookaburra]

And the subject of anxiety this week is.... giving archery a try!!!

[unholyhelbig]

part 4 mob boss mommy *i mean natty oops*

Title: The Oversight [Part 4/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 4325

Warnings: Gun imagery, heights, unecessary tension, horrible grammar, and funnel cake

[A/n: Heads up, I wrote this while I had the flu & a pretty bad fever, so it's not my greatest work. Thank you all for the postive feedback!]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

“Hit me.” Natasha’s words were growled, a low rumble compared to the warm spring breeze that produced nothing but a balmy environment. Sweat glossed her collarbone, moved against expanses of skin that you had let yourself imagine, but had never seen. She was a distraction, despite being your instructor.

Her wrapped fist made contact with your jaw, a metallic taste coating your tongue. You let out a grunt of protest, fingers quickly working against the area to ease the throbbing pain. “That wasn’t fair,”

“You think they’re going to play fair? Focus up. Hit me.”

There was something about being this close to Natasha that formed a pit in your stomach. You were meant to have skin on skin contact, though most of your mornings for the past two weeks had been spent at the gun range, she had deemed you ready enough to learn how to fight. It was an art, you figured, not just something you could blindly go into.

For the first fifteen minutes of your day, you had watched Natasha and Kate spar. Yelena was standing next to you, a borderline predatory gaze on her face. You’d realized that it was one of the only emotions she harbored, and that Clint was rightful in his fear. Still, her attention was not focused on you, and that was good enough for the time being.

Instead, it was homed in on Kate. “I have been teaching her for nearly a year now.”

“She’s good.”

“You do not have to lie, y/n. She’s sloppy, reckless. Look how calculated Natalia is.”

Those emerald eyes were tracking every move the taller girl made. She’d initiated contact with Kate’s ribs, with her knees, and her shoulders. She’d fallen to the grass more times than you could count, but she still got up. That’s what seemed to count around here. Even as green a brown stained her workout gear, and as purple blotches of dead blood rose to the surface of her skin.

“It pays to learn fighting styles. That is something the Danver’s family does not understand. They hire whoever they can. Bodies over skill, it can work in some situations, but not all.”

“When did this… war start?”

“Mm, the power struggle has been raging for decades. Our parents, and their parents, and their parents before them. Both of us were trained to take over the family business. Men, they fight with their hearts and not their heads. When Carol and Natalia took up the mantel, things only got worse.”

You felt silly, growing up on these city blocks, and not realizing that a fight bigger than yourself was raging just within the shadows. You supposed that was a good thing. If you knew, you’d have taken Ronnie out of here in a second.

Kate hit the ground for a fourth time, the air knocked out of her lungs. She still had enough left to groan and prop herself up on her elbows. Natasha chuckled, the sound bubbling past her lips. This was much too fun for her.

“She is fragile.” Yelena nudged you with her arm. You frowned. Kate accepted the outstretched hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She looked dazed. “Do not tell her I said so, but she was looking for a project. You have to give it your all. For both of your sakes.”

You drew in a breath to respond, but Yelena clapped a hand on your back before taking a step toward the dueling duo. “Alright Nat! I think you’ve tortured Kate Bishop enough. Do not break her.”

Kate was bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet, her fists raised in a defensive position. Her lip was split, rusty crimson against the corner of her mouth. “I can do this all day.”

“You do not have to.” Yelena’s nose scrunched up “You stink. Go take a shower.”

The blonde shoved Kate playfully towards the house, trailing behind her and murmuring things in Russian. She’d left you alone with Natasha, something you had become quite accustomed to. In your workout gear, you felt more than a little exposed, her stare raking up and down your form before her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink than they already were.

The two of you had sat on the lawn chairs as she wrapped your knuckles, had you punch the palm of her hand to see how much blowback it would cause. You were holding back, and you both knew it. Her last command had been non-negotiable.

When you swung your right hand towards her jaw, Natasha wrapped her fingers around your wrist. She had flipped you onto the ground with enough force to knock the air from your lungs. You’d flailed in panic instead of going limp like Kate had.

You’d dragged Natasha down on top of you. Her body weight was warm from the beating sun, her elbows on either side of your head. Natasha’s knee was between yours, pressing into your core. You let out a small gasp at the sensation, pulling in her musky scent of sweat and clove.

Stray strands of russet hair framed Natasha’s face as she peered down at you, her chest heaving, each breath pushing her closer to you. Her nose was brushed against yours. The two of you were impossibly close, soul-crushingly so. You were certain that she could feel your heartbeat through your shirt.

She made a quite noise “Pet, if you wanted to get me on top of you, all you had to do was ask.”

Your gaze had given you away, and Natasha suddenly had a shit-eating grin against her lips. You hooked your legs against hers an arm wrapping around her waist. In a smooth move, you had her flipped against the grass, eyes reflecting the blue of the cloudless sky. She nearly seemed impressed, and you preened at the stare.

That was before her knee came up and knocked the wind out of you for the second time. You grunted, rolling off her. The two of you stared up at the sky for a few moments before she hoisted herself up and offered you a hand. You batted it away out of habit, rising on your own.

“When you fall, you fall with grace.” Natasha said, her voice stoney, right back to her serious self. “That way you don’t end up like we just were.”

“And if they ask?” you lifted an eyebrow at her, a hint of malice in her voice. She took a step closer to you, and that ever-intoxicating scent filled your lungs once more. Your ribs still ached from her kick, fingers massaging the sore spot. However, all of your movement halted.

Her voice was murmured and rusty. “I don’t want anyone else on top of you.”

“Okay,” You whispered, throat suddenly tight. “Then show me how.”

Veronica had the excited reflection of light in her eyes. They scanned the traveling fair that had been set up in the park bordering the harbor and a square city block. Each year, tents with local vendors would go up, rides and carnival games in their stead.

The scent of kettle corn filled your lungs, a mix of sweet and salty that reminded you of your own childhood spent here. It was the one constant that every foster family took part in. Sometimes you’d be given a stack of tickets, others, you’d get enough for a large cup of the best lemonade you had ever tasted.

Her hand tightened around yours, squeezing in excitement. Despite your current situation, you couldn’t help but smile. The soft sound of music and the light breeze was enough to make your forget about your aching muscles, and the light sweater that you had thrown on to hide the bruising against your shoulders, your arms, and collarbone. Natasha had really done a number on you.

“Jimmy is a nice guy, he really is, but the whole magic thing is driving me nuts.” Darcy used her forefingers to pinch off a bit of blue cotton candy, shoving it into her mouth. She talked around the melting sugar. “Seriously, he spilled my coffee all over my lap attempting a card trick and then attempted to mop it up with a never-ending handkerchief.”

You snickered at that, earning a look cut from glass. “What? I’m sorry about your drycleaning, but it is kind of funny.”

“Yeah, whatever. I just have to grow a backbone. He doesn’t try to pull that shit with Monica. No one tries to pull that shit with her.” She knelt in front of Ronnie, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re not going to tolerate stupid magic tricks, are you?”

She was met with a silent, but amused stare, her eyebrow lifted. You’d been leveled with that look more than once yourself. It dissolved you into more laughter. “Alright, alright. No magic for the kid. Does the Ferris Wheel count as magic?”

“Well sure, but only at the worlds fair.”

You rolled your eyes but effectively tugged them both into the line. It had always been one of your favorites. It gave you a good look at the city you called home. Of course, your view of that city had been stunted lately. It never truly changed the beauty of the lights and the way they reflected off the water.

Your shoulder came in contact with chilled leather, your attention having been trained on fishing through your pockets for the small red tickets. Your eyes shot up, ready to rush out an apology until the words stopped in your throat.

Seeing Natasha outside of her manor was jarring. She looked nearly the same, a tight-fitting black T-shirt and a leather jacket draped over her shoulders. Her hair was loose, unlike it was at training earlier in the day, cascading down her shoulders. Her make-up was light, her unripe stare pouring into yours. That bewilderment melted into her cool exterior as if it were never there in the first place.

“Natasha,” the word poured from your lips before you could stop it, and the corner of her mouth quirked up in amusement. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I can take a hit” She stated matter-of-factly. You were well aware of the fact, and you had to stifle a shiver as it worked its way down your spine. Hours before she had been nestled so perfectly on top of you.

Your cheeks heated up and you glanced sparingly at your friend, her own eyes going back and forth between the both of you. It was then that you noticed Clint, towering over Natasha with his arms crossed over his chest. He gave you a finger wave, and you lifted your chin in return.

“I’m Darcy, you are?” She was beyond forward, and it made you internally cringe. She reached her hand out to the very woman that ran the city. It was like sticking your hand in the lions enclosure covered in steak sauce.

“Natasha,” her words dripped with a subtle hint of her accent “This is Clint.”

“Howdy,” he knelt then, Veronica was clinging tightly to your leg, peeking around tentatively. She hugged you closer as he spoke. “You must be Veronica.”

The woman in front of you softened as you had never seen before. Her eyes grew brighter, though you could pin that on the circulating lights of the Ferris Wheel. There was a genuine smile on her lips as she looked at the girl who hugged you ever close.

“She doesn’t talk much, I’m afraid.” Your hand moved comfortingly to her shoulder. Ronnie seemed comfortable, if not excited about the rides that were teeming around them.  

Nat smiled at you “Oh, I’m sure she’ll speak when she has something to say.”

Ronnie’s death-grip on your leg seemed to loosen a bit as Clint straightened up. Darcy continued to scrutinize you and Natasha, something mischievous in her stare that you didn’t exactly care for. She rocked back and forth on her feet and directed her attention to Clint.

“How good are you at skeeball?”

“An absolute beast.” Clint replied.

“What do you say to a challenge? I bet I can kick your ass with the power of science. Winner springs for funnel cake.”

You picked up on the subtle look Clint gave Natasha and the even more subtle wave that she responded with. She blew an amused breath. Darcy stretched her hand towards Ronnie and wiggled her finger. “Kid, you staying or going?”

This time, Ronnie looked up at you for confirmation and you gave her a small, encouraging nod. She dislodged herself and wrapped her hand around Darcy’s. The promise of flaky and sweet funnel cake topped with powdered sugar was too tantalizing.

Admittedly, you were used to being left alone with Natasha at this point. Though it had mostly been in a business capacity. She seemed almost shy now, the line for the Ferris Wheel inching ever so closer.

“We can still go on, if you want.” She suggested.

“Yeah, yes. Of course.” You replied, “that would be lovely.”

“Your friend is very persistent.”

“She’s harmless, really.”

“And your daughter. She’s beautiful.” Natasha shoved her hands into her pockets, the two of you inching closer in line. “Just like her mother.”

Once again, you could feel the breath lodge in your throat, your cheeks flushing with fire. She was so bold at moments, and you remained silent in your conquest. There was no telling what was overstepping, though she blinked at you expectantly.

You fumbled dumbly with the tickets in your pockets, presenting them to the attendant. You both ended up in a cherry red car lined with nice leather cushions. Natasha’s thigh was warm against yours, her thick scent coating your lungs. Her arm was around the back of the cart, and a familiar sense of safety settled within you.

“You worry about her,” Natasha said to fill the silence as they loaded each cart. It lurched forward and back, making your stomach turn. “I didn’t start speaking until I was nine years old. My mother, she was so concerned that she rushed to be every specialist that money could buy. Whole days spent driving to different counties, just for them to say that same thing. Nothing is wrong, and I’ll talk when I’m ready.”

“What was that moment? The one where you were ready?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “The thing about being quiet, is that people tend not to notice when you’re in the room. My father protected Yelena and I from his world for as long as he could, but eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves, and others. I watched him give a man his last drink before shooting him between the eyes.”

“Fuck, Natasha.” You murmured.

“He doesn’t know I saw that. I ran as quietly as I could back to my room and hid under the duvet like a child. Something snapped in me that day and I no longer wanted to be silent. I suppose the fear of displeasing either of them ebbed the words from me.”

She was being vulnerable in front of you, a side that you had never seen. There were always her subtle touches, and her purred words that would hit the pit of your stomach. You’d watch as she gave unwavering commands to Clint, to Yelena and Kate. But this was different. This was her.

The city sparkled around you. Tricolored lights reflected off the blackness of the causeways that lapped listlessly at the harbor. If you squinted, you could almost make out the mansion where you spent most of your time.

The carnival buzzed below. Her scent was overwhelming, so warm and welcoming despite her danger. And dangerous she was. It was alluring, exciting. You looked at her, eyes pouring with emotion. Not so much pity, as she would snap your wrist at the fact. But a simple understanding.

Tentatively, you reached up and cupped her cheek. You both were too far above the ground to be realized and the simple gesture was one of good faith. Surprisingly, she leaned into your touch, making a quiet, relieved noise.

Your voice was whispered, “You didn’t deserve that. You were just a kid.”

She had closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of your contact. Her features were so soft, so broken in this moment that you resisted the urge to kiss her frown away. Before you could contemplate it, the Ferris Wheel lurched and she gently took her fingers and wrapped them around your wrist, lowering both of your hands into her lap.

“She’ll talk,” Natasha gave your hand a squeeze “give her time.”

Natasha cleared her throat as the cart neared the end of its journey. She pulled away entirely, her arm still along the back of the seat. When she leaned closer, you could feel the weight of the gun in the inside pocket of her jacket. Seriousness had lidded over her eyes once more.

“We have a job tonight, and I want you to come along.” She said, breath hot on your collarbone.

You were suddenly snapped back to reality. Natasha was in fact the head of a crime ring that you had unwittingly stumbled into. Up until now, aside from the brutal beating, it had almost felt like child’s play. She’d relearned you how to shoot, and you knew the very basics of fighting. But, you were far from her Winter Soldier stand in. You weren’t even a toy soldier.

She sensed your hesitancy. “I have a meeting at a restaurant downtown. It’s not going to go south, but if it does, I need you there. You won’t be alone.”

“Clint?” You asked.

She shook her head “guys got a family of his own, he must spend some time with them outside of work hours. Kate.”

You fought back the noise that threatened to escape your throat. You didn’t doubt Kate, but you certainly doubted yourself. You didn’t have your own weapon, and the threat of leaving a restaurant with a bullet lodged between your ribs became very real, very quickly.

She chuckled at that, “I trust her. I trust you. Just stand there and follow her lead. Look hot and intimidating.”

“Is hot really a requirement?”

“Not really, but you pull it off.” There was a switch in her again, one that had been flipped effortlessly as she grabbed the collar of your sweater and pulled you impossibly close. You were nearly sitting in her lap. “Don’t fail me on this, y/n. It’s imperative that you do as you’re told.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You swallowed thickly as her hands wandered your side expertly. It took you a moment to realize that she had pulled the gun from her own coat and silently transferred it to yours before she released her hold on you. You had admit that you missed the touch instantly.

She stood from the cart when the attendant unlocked the door, reaching her hand out to you. You took it was ease, letting her help you onto the metal dismount. There were no words exchanged as you readjusted the weapon as slyly as you could muster, hands shoved into your pockets a moment later.

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude.” You could hear Darcy’s voice from within the crowds. It was easy to spot them, and you swore you saw the ghost of a smile on Natasha’s face. “The kid kicked both of our asses. Split the difference and pay up.”

“Yeah, fine.” Clint fished out his wallet and placed a couple of bills in Darcy’s waiting palm. “The price of carnival food these days is outrageous.”

Kate had presented you with a leather holster that fit snuggly around your chest and abdomen. She’d tightened the straps, your arms halfway raised. It felt a bit like a dressing room at the mall, her breath hot on your cheek as she tugged the center strap to make sure it was secure.

“Natasha likes us to be presentable.” She handed you a dark jacket to throw over the contraption. “Inconspicuous and deadly. But still presentable.”

You followed Kate’s lead. Natasha was to drive to the restaurant, and the two of you were to follow in a separate car. It was important to stay quiet unless you were spoken to directly by Natasha. Kate seemed at ease on the ride over, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel to an incoherent pop song.

The holster pinched you uncomfortably, but you were so deep into your own fear, your own reluctance, to pay much attention. Kate shot you a look, hard in her nature, and then softer when she glanced at you a second time.

“You’re much too tense” she flicked off the radio, delving you into a comfortable silence. “Lower your shoulders and relax. It’ll be an uneventful night.”

“Right,” you let out a shaky breath “uneventful.”

“Look, I can’t imagine how jarring this is for you. I would have shut down by now, changed my name and gone into witness protection if I was thrown into this life the way you are. Without a choice. But, we can make the best of it and do what we can to protect Natasha.”

“It seems like she can handle herself,”

Kate chuckled “Oh, she can. But she doesn’t keep us around just for protection. It’s a big city, she wants people she trusts. She wants a family. And I know it might not seem like it, but her welcoming you into her inner circle… it’s a blessing. Just like we’d go to bat for her, she’d do the same for us.”

You swallowed the dryness in your throat as Natasha pulled her car to the curb in front of a russet brick building. Kate did the same expertly, shutting off the engine. She clapped you on the shoulder, giving you one more encouraging smile. “One night at a time, y/n. Follow my lead.”

Kate opened the door for Natasha, and you had to keep your jaw from dropping on the ground at the sight of her. Her long leg stretched onto the sidewalk, her hand squeezing Kate’s in return as she helped her from the vehicle.

She wore a maroon dress, one that had a slit down the leg that left little to the imagination. The color matched the shirt Kate had given you earlier, everything orchestrated to a tee. The woman looked at you approvingly before she took striding steps towards the front of the building. Out of habit, you held the door open for you, another look sparkling in her dark eyes.

It was a restaurant that you had never set foot in. There was a sour, yet pleasant, scent of vinegar and cabbage masked with that of freshly baked bread and beef. The walls were painted deep green, black and white photos of rolling hills placed above empty tables.

It was clear what table you were to be led to. There was one in the center of the restaurant that was set up with a bottle of wine, and water. A candle burned in the middle, shading the woman who occupied it with shadows that stretched her delicate features. She wasn’t alone.

The woman had cropped blonde hair at the shoulders. Her hazel eyes were calculating, clocking Kate and yourself immediately. Kate pulled Natasha’s chair back, allowing her to sit before she took a step back. You flanked her sides, arms behind your back and stare trained straight ahead like a sentinel.

“Two,” the woman smiled devilishly, hiding it behind a glass of deep red wine. “Are you compensating for something, or someone?”

The woman who stood much like you did behind her boss was not masking her contempt towards you. She was familiar in an irking way that you paid no mind to. It was in passing, you were sure, but it was one of those itches that would worsen until you could scratch it with your whole hand.

“Not at all,” Natasha replied cooly, “I believe there was something you wanted to discuss?”

“Mm, there was. You know the Maroni property on the west side.” She leaned forward, placing her glass down. Her lips were stained in a dark red that matched Natasha’s dress. “I want it.”

“That’s a horrible way to say please.”

“Natasha, we both know it doesn’t serve you in it’s current position.” She put emphasis on the name.

“I fail to see how that matters. Just giving you the property is out of the question. That’s not how this works, but I do admire your gumption.”

“Then how exactly does, this work?” She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. Both you and Kate tensed. The vaguely-familiar woman behind Carol shifted on her feet in the slightest movement. “You kill one of my men and offer nothing in return?”

Natasha lifted her eyebrows “Exactly. This isn’t a bartering system, and it never has been. If I give you this building, it will change everything and I’m not much in the mood for a power struggle. What do you need it for?”

She seemed to falter “I don’t have to answer that. I’m offering to buy the property from you.”

“It’s not for sale.”

There was finality in her voice that rocked the room into silence. She hadn’t touched her wine, nor her water, and you figured she wouldn’t. Carol glowered at her, clearly not used to having her endeavors squashed with such ferocity.  

Natasha took a steadying breath. “Is that all? It’s late and I’m tired of your graveling.”

She let out a sigh and crossed her legs, drumming her ringed fingers on the cloth-laid table. The flames in the candle seemed to react to her impatience. Kate’s jaw clenched and unclenched as she leveled the woman behind Carol with a fierce stare.

“I suppose. I want you to remember this moment, Natasha. I offered you a deal.” She stood and dramatically sighed once more. “This could have been easy.”

Kate always kept her eyes on Carol, on the woman who followed behind her with her hands shoved into her pockets. The darkness of a previous scar littered her collarbone. She had the same stare that Bucky had, that same determined anger that came with years of meetings with higher stakes than this.

“Oh, and Nat.” She stopped just short of the door, turning to face the three of you.

Kate reached for her weapon, and out of a blind trust, so had you. It was warm from its housed place against your side. In that moment, you knew that anyone else in the room would be a quicker shot than you. Still, your heart was beating quickly in your throat.

“I don’t know where your Winter Soldier is, but this is a sorry excuse for a replacement.” She laughed, a mean sound. “A kid and a burn-out… you should’ve taken the deal.”

She left without another word, leaving you in a chilling silence. For a few long moments, Natasha stared at the table, at her reflection in the syrupy red wine. Her fingers brushed against the glass, frowning.

“I’m twenty-three.” Kate let out in a single breath, eyes drifting from you.

“Don’t look at me,” You whispered back, “I am a burn-out.”

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[hees-mine]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐝𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯 𝐠𝐲𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫! - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬

𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 ⚥ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, pervert heeseung, cumming untouched, mentions of arousal, slight flirting.

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @aerallaa

“Can you feel that, y/n?” You hear your gym instructor say, his hand rested on the small of your back while he stood behind you, making sure your downward dog posture was correct.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, struggling to keep yourself upward, and you realize your friends were right when they told you you were out of shape. It was brutal honesty, but you appreciated them for it, cause at least now you could do something about it.

“You’re doing so well for your first time.” he nods, looking at you from one of the big wall mirrors in front of you both. “And since you are,” he hums, pressing down on your back slightly, and the stretch you feel all over your muscles is insane. “This should make it harder,” he sneaks up behind, brushing his bulge on your ass which looked so fucking plump, especially with those tight-ass yoga pants you had on.

“O-ow,” you grimace, too distracted from the pain to notice your gym instructor rubbing himself against you, and you were laser-focused on the clock. Determined to finish, you only had a few seconds left in this position before you were moving on to the next.

“Good,” he drawls out the word, discreetly dragging his hand down your back and brushing over your ass ever so slightly.

You relax your muscles from the tiring position and take a seat on the mat as he high-fives you.

“Now, this one should feel a bit better on your body.” he stands straight. “Okay, lay flat on your stomach for me,” he instructs.

Your eyes widened. You didn’t even get a break from the first workout. “No rest?”

“Not when you’re with me,” he winks, and you quickly lay flat on your stomach to hide your flustered state.

“Perfect,” he whispers behind you and lowers himself on his knees, his crotch hovering over your ass as he grabs your wrists and pulls you back slightly.

“Wow,” you say in complete disbelief because you’ve never felt something quite like this. It hurt, but it was the good type of pain.

Each time he pulls you back, he gently ruts forward, humping his cock against your ass, and he has to bite back a moan cause the soft stimulation on his length was making him harder and harder by the second.

“You okay?” He asks softly before repeating his actions. You hum in response as he finishes out the second to last stretching exercise, completely unaware of his unorthodox methods. He was doing everything correctly. It’s just the proximity in which he performed said exercises was highly unnecessary. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, I haven’t felt this relaxed in a long time,” he smiles, getting up from on top of you.

“Feels good for me, too.” he readjusted his sweats, hiding his boner, and before you could focus on what he just said, you were onto your final stretch. “Okay, last one, I’m proud of you,” he claps softly. “The best new client I’ve ever had, and don’t tell anybody,” he playfully whispers, and you zip your mouth closed with a small giggle.

You’re not sure what this position was called or what it was even doing. You’re sure he told you at some point, but once you took place on the mat, back on the ground with your legs in the air and hands holding your feet, you forgot about everything.

The exercise itself was easy, but what made it harder than the rest was the way he was situated between your legs.

It was just a tad bit awkward for you. “A-are you sure this is right?”

He quickly nods. “Yeah, this is perfect. Let me just-” he kneels down, hips nearly touching your core, and if anyone came in and saw you two on the ground in this position, they’d think you’re doing a lot more than just stretching. “There we go,” he says once he’s sat before you. “Your form is a little off.” he’s lying. Your form was fine, if not perfect. He just used that as an excuse to assist you and hoist your legs up, and now this definitely looked like something you’d only ever see in an adult film. “Just like that.”

You avoid eye contact with him. You can’t lie. The position was turning you on. How could it not? Your legs were in the air, and there was a hot gym instructor looking down at you for a full minute. Luckily, you were wearing black because, embarrassingly enough, you had gotten wet.

The timer that he had set went off, and you were about to get up from your position, but he kept you still. “Hold it for a little longer.” he hadn’t done one minute of work, but he was sweating like he had just run miles in ninety-degree weather. This whole session was the most pleasurable torture he’d ever gone through, but it was well worth it.

Your breasts perked up in his face, chest covered in sweat, your messy bun, and not to mention all the cute little whimpers you’d let out when you got tired, the ones that you were making right now. “Almost done,” he gulps down harshly cock twitching in his sweats desperate for release.

“Heeseung, I can’t.” You shake your head back and forth but still try your best to maintain your position.

“Yes you can. Just a little bit more.” his eyes nearly roll back, but he controls himself, and the slight whimper of his name was all it took for him to explode in his grey joggers. “There you go, that’s it” he lowers your legs down, finally giving you a break, all while spurts of cum shoot from his tip. “That was amazing,” he huffs cock, still dripping and throbbing from that orgasm, and he can’t believe how much you turned him on to the point he came untouched.

He readjusted his joggers again, quickly ending today's workout and setting up your next session with him before you noticed the wet splotch slowly forming on the front of his grey sweats.

He bid you goodbye, congratulating you on a successful first-time workout and telling you he couldn’t wait to see you again.

You smile and wave to him, still completely unaware of his intentions.

And as he takes one long look at your ass as you exit the building, he might just have to add an extra day to your one on one sessions just to make sure you keep up with what he’s taught you so far.

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

[hitoshiyoshi]

stuck | bakugou katsuki

synopsis ↬ bakugou hates when nerds are better than him OR you get stuck in a closet but bakugou doesn’t feel like helping

warnings ↬ stuckage/kabeshiri, dub/non-con, college au, non-con picture taking, soft bully bakugou(?), bakugou doesn't act like a bully in the beginning but he does later on, the reader's favorite class is biology, the reader is a nerd, i'm sorry if i offend any nerds, the way you get stuck is kinda poorly written and i'm sorry, do not read if you don’t like being in tight spaces, or-l (receiving), f-ngering (receiving), bakugou calls you a lot of names (not nice names), slut-shaming, objectification, swearing, reader is wearing a skirt, leashes (brief), if you get confused at how I describe the scene just look at the header image, let me know if i've missed anything

pairings ↬ agedup!bully!bakugou katsuki x fem!nerdy!reader

word count ↬ 3.7k

Carefully carrying your biology class's materials, you strode along the partially empty halls to your destination. Professor Kayama, your biology instructor, asked if you could return them to a storage room in preparation for her next class. Being an exemplary student, you happily agreed — not minding the heavy load of fragile items. You held a large plastic tub of different materials she neatly stacked before handing them to you. Your slow-paced walk seemed to agitate some of your fellow classmates trying to hurry to their next activity, yet you didn't mind.

Entering the large storage area, you place the materials that manage to fit inside your arms on the floor. The room was quite large, filled with all assortments of items used in her class. All of which, you could name without even needing to try. Sticking your nose in science textbooks all day certainly paid off. The chatter of a loud group of students just outside the closed door seemed to distract you from your thoughts, just briefly.

You tried to unlock a door leading to a walk-in closet area, except it seemed to be jammed. This was a usual reoccurrence; Professor Kayama would always complain about the door, saying that it always gave her problems and that bringing this to your university for a fix would amount to nothing. She said, "they're too busy with less important things, i'll teach you how to fix it," and so she did.

It was a sliding door, the type that never swung open for "safety reasons". You tightly grasped the handle, pulling the door in the opposite direction while pressing all your strength against it. Finally, the door seemed to magically become smooth on its hinges and glided open with ease. Professor Kayama warned you never to suddenly push against the door with too much force at once as it would make the gears loose and jam it once again. So far, you've managed to survive the faulty door and any mishaps but you knew that you would eventually encounter some problems.

You pick up the plastic tub and enter the room, quickly arranging each object in its correct location. Of course, this wasn't your only duty for the day; Professor Kayama requested that you also tidy any materials that seemed out of place as she needed to leave campus early.

Again, you didn't mind. In fact, you seemed to enjoy knowing that you were her most-trusted pupil. The favorite of the class and the clear spark for envy from the other students. Always scoring the highest out of everyone in your class. Seated in the front during her lectures with your pen and paper ready to take notes while most students couldn't focus or snoozed off in the middle of class. You were the role model for them all to follow, and yet they could never match your pace.

Of course, with all of this attention, you attracted one jealous follower. A boy in your class with a name you were too busy to remember. It started with a "B", that was the only part you decided to memorize. You weren't interested in trying to become 'buddies' with people you wouldn't see again in four years. He always sat at the back of the lecture hall, too enamored with his friends to pay attention. You could vividly recall during one class hearing the obnoxious laughter of a friend he affectionately called, "dunce-face". The cacophony of their voices disrupted the entire lesson, irritating both you and Professor Kayama. You only noticed him because of his performance after every exam, project, and quiz.

The blonde would always try to outperform you. Yet, for the first time in his life, you made him experience failure.

Always coming in a distant second place to you; a sharp contrast to his perfect scores in every other class he took, passing them all with flying colors. You couldn't fathom how he did so well in a class he seemed to show no interest in.

His group of friends certainly weren't the brightest. The annoying one in your class failed nearly every test he took. While the rest weren't focused, instead finding ways to get a freshman's number so they could get their dicks wet. You concluded that he simply cheated on his exams. You were wrong. The notes for all his classes were extensive and thorough. He did whatever he could to ensure his throne was at the top of every class; the only thing more unbearable than last place was second.

His attempt at going above you only led to more shortcomings. Studying all night for a quiz that he ended up sleeping through was unfortunate, but he could get over it. Until he learned that you received another perfect score. Professor Kayama felt bad for him, she couldn't do much except arrange a tutoring session with you as his instructor. He didn't need her pity. He didn't need your pity.

You weren't elated with Professor Kayama's request for you to tutor him, yet you couldn't reject your favorite teacher. You approached him after class a few months ago, plastering your biggest and brightest fake smile. Waving your hand, a little too cheerful and innocent for his liking, and uttering words that made his hatred for you stronger: "I know this class is difficult, so would you like my help? I'm always free if you have any questions, we can be study partners! So, what do you say?"

God, your sweet tooth-rotting voice made him nauseous. You had to be faking it; that professor was watching over you like a hawk. You didn't know how humiliating it was for him. He had so much he wanted to say; resentful sentiments that would leave you beneath him with tears streaming out of your puffy eyes. The perfect view.

As you stood in front of him with your hand outstretched and waiting for his acceptance, his rage surged. You watched as his blood rushed to his reddening cheeks and ears, somewhat intimidated by his strange reaction. Infuriated with your weak attempt at challenging him, the blonde kissed his teeth and stormed out of the classroom. His gaze lingered on you for months following that interaction.

Until his deep ruby eyes caught you entering the storage room, running errands like a mule for your professors.

"Oi, Bakugou!" Yelled his red-haired friend standing across him in the hallway, "Are you listening?" Upon seeing the blonde nod, he continued. "So, you comin' to Mina's party?"

"Yeah, yeah... whatever," He said while running his fingers over the scruff of his neck. Kirishima named a list of girls attending like an elementary student reciting the alphabet, he's surprised he remembers each one. Momo, Uraraka, Yui... He recognized some, they were his frequent calls whenever he needed a quick fuck.

"—that girl in our english class," Kirishima peers up, trying to think once again before a lightbulb flickers in his head. "Denki tried with the smart girl in bio... fuck, I forgot her name... (Y/N) or something like that..."

"Who..?" He wasn't even sure why he bothered asking when he heard correctly the first time.

"That nerdy chick, always at the front in class,"

"Oh,"

"Yeah, but he said she's frigid... said no to his face before he could convince her. Too bad, she sounds like my type," Kirishima snickers under his breath as the blonde stays still.

By now, you've finished cleaning up most of the equipment and returned each of them to their assigned locations. Despite all of your years around fragile science materials, you seem to forget some essential points about safety. You can hear the familiar sound of heavy footsteps outside the closed door. Where have you heard them before? You only peeked away for a second; unfortunately, one second is enough time for an accident to happen.

Hitting your shin on the leg of a nearby desk before tripping over your feet, you fall on your knees and tummy — landing in the cramped walkway with the top half of your body inside the closet. You didn't have enough time to register the shockwave of pain through your legs. The closet's sliding door barrels down and pins you by the waist. Locking your body in place and wedging you right against the door frame. Fuck, it sounded like a cliché from a video on the Hub, which made it more embarrassing.

You try to move and twist your waist but to no avail. You reach your nearest hand to the door and push, yet it 'conveniently' seems jammed in place. For what feels like an eternity, you try desperately to move your body in any way that you can. You make some progress by managing to kneel on the hard tiles, yet the pain from falling prevents you from standing upright. Maybe you sprained something? You don't know, but you need to get out of here fast.

The last thing you want is to be a burden, but in reality, you should be concerned with someone thinking you're an idiot for falling like this. With few choices, you decide to call for help, "help..! somebody..! please, i need help!"

You should have been suspicious when you heard the sound of the front door opening. A minute hadn't even passed. It closes softly, and the faint sound of the lock fills the empty air. Asking if someone was there only led to more silence. The ground trembles like some desks have moved out of the way; obviously, someone was inside.

"Oh gosh, thank you..! I'm so clumsy, I don't know how this happened..." You continue rambling on, thinking they're clearing away to make space and rescue you. When they don't respond, you crane your neck behind only to see the disgruntled blonde — whose name you can't bother remembering — standing over you through the gap in the closet door. "Oh, it's you. Sorry, I don't know your name..."

"Doesn't fuckin' matter," Yet, he seems to grimace at your unnecessary comment. He menacingly looms over your body, making you too anxious and scared to look away.

"S- Sorry if I'm being a burden, but as you can see—" You say while trying to wiggle and show that you can't move but unintentionally show off your bum. "—I'm a little stuck, can you help me?"

"Why should I?" He says with an unwavering expression. He's dead serious. Piercing down at you beneath him while bubbling with excitement, he's won the jackpot.

"Uh... well, I'm hurt really bad. I can't get up on my own," That's unfortunate.

The whole situation was simply comical; he wanted to burst out laughing so bad, so that's what he did. His resounding yet obnoxious voice traveled through every wall of the room. This had to be a joke. There was no way that you of all the people he knew could end up in a situation like this. His cheeky grin only left you confused, clutching his belly as if he'd been injured.

"I know this might seem funny to you, but it's not. Please don't laugh..."

"But it is," He said, finally calming down and catching his breath. "I'm finding it hard to believe the teacher's pet could end up like this. Don’t tell me you’re a dumbass,"

"If you won't help me, will you just find someone else?" You turn your head around, letting your guard down for a moment. When will you learn to stop doing that?

"Why? Don't like me?" The feeling of his foot pushing into your lower back startles you. You aren't given much time to react before it's forcefully arched lower into an uncomfortable position, giving him a full view of your ass.

"H- Hey..! Cut that out..!" Your skirt rides up your thighs, exposing your cotton panties to his mischievous eyes. Greedy hands feel up your soft bum before giving it a tap.

"Wish I could help, but I don't feel like it," He says after finishing his touches. Staring off into the distance, acting as if he'd been genuinely contemplating whether or not to aid you.

"What..?" He eases his foot off your back and chooses to squat behind you. His hands caress your hips before lifting your skirt upwards, exposing your clothed heat.

"Sorry, love, you just look so pretty beneath me," He hooks his fingers under the fabric of your panties, chuckling to himself once he sees you struggle in his hands. Completely unfazed. "It's Bakugou... Katsuki, my name,"

Bakugou. Bakugou.

The surname rings a bell, it sounds so familiar. How could you forget? Your meager interactions with him flood back in your mind, but it's too late to remedy and make amends.

Tugging your panties past your cheeks, Bakugou left you uncovered as his hands freely roamed. He cupped each mound of flesh in his hands, spreading them apart and watching your folds glisten. His thumb runs along your labia, making your body shudder at the foreign sensation. Trying to ask him questions proved pointless; instead, the blonde whispered under his breath about you being desperate “like a bitch in heat”. Partially in disbelief at the sight of your slick as you rubbed your thighs together; you're really enjoying this, aren't you?

Circling his fingers over your clit and massaging your nub, your teeth sink into your lip to hold back moans. His fingers are skilled, he's done this plenty of times with other girls in the past. Yet, the way that he touches hints that he wants to go slow. Take his time and enjoy it as if you were his first. Smirking at your glistening heat as if to prove to his corrupted mind that his actions were justified.

To him, you were a conquest. The trophy on his display case that would become the envy of all his friends.

"W- Wait... Please don't—... do that..!" You want to sound strong, yet your voice is in the same sweet intonation.

Bakugou doesn't take you seriously, not when constant mewls float out of your lips and into his ears. Instead, saying he'll stop when he's finished in a tone that causes your heart to race with panic. You feel something warm and icky suddenly touching your heat; using his thumb, he spreads it across your folds while mumbling about "getting you ready". You don't even bother asking, succumbing to his lustful desires.

Maybe this is all he'll do. Feel you up and then help you when he's done, right?

You couldn't be more wrong.

His flat tongue takes a slow lap at your warmth as your hips wiggle again in his hold. Using both hands, Bakugou pins you still by your waist and lower back — holding you tight until you can't struggle. His grip is too strong, fingernails scratching into your skin. You don't stand a chance. He forces your back to arch more, releasing a hum of approval at your compliance. Kirishima said you were frigid, but now you've got him second-guessing.

His tongue darts across your clit with ease; gliding over your sensitive bud as your walls flutter. Teasing your sex just right, only taking Bakugou a few minutes to guess the spots that would drive you insane. The same insanity he was plagued with whenever he was around your presence. You tried using your legs to kick at the blonde, toes curling in your shoes. He swears into your pussy in frustration, why can't you just stay still? The vibration of his voice sends a wave of pleasure through as you moan in response, "nngh... d- don't i... i can't...ahh~"

One of your kicks nearly strikes him in the chest with full force. Your last attempt at fleeing once an intense pain surges through your leg. He simply finds it humorous again, the thought of you overpowering him. Bakugou moves one of his hands to your leg, pinning it to the tile flooring. Still determined, he continues his assault on your now swollen clit. Attached to your pussy and coaxing out your clear essence onto his tongue. Savoring your taste on his tongue, moving his head downwards, and giving you one final kiss on your clit.

You wince, feeling his thick middle finger sink inside your sopping entrance. Bakugou's thumb extends over the hood of your clit, soon covering both fingers in slick. Peaking through the gap, he sees your figure, biting on your fingers but failing to hide your whimpers — he can't wait to get out of this stuffy room — praying that you cum soon so he can see your face of pure bliss afterward.

Kirishima always said he preferred inexperienced girls. Always seemed to get attached easily with a few words of affection. Made good fucks for a quickie; send them a teddy bear, say you're sorry if you hurt them, and they'll be at your beck and call.

The familiar high pitch in your voice is something he hears too often, fully knowing what happens next. "don't tell me you're gonna cum already, love?" He taunts while his finger curls over another spot that sends a loud moan through the room. Bakugou's thumb presses deeper against your clit, smirking at your frequent pulsating walls.

"N- No..! I'm not...!"

"Hm, you're not? You're drippin' down here babe. Squeezin' me too. Was hoping you'd save some for my cock instead." His... what? You twist around, trying to stop him by reaching out but he grabs your hand instead. Stopping you from turning around and inspecting you like his newest toy, he says, "Ah, that's the pretty face I missed,"

Another digit enters you with ease, quivering against him and sucking him further with every graze against your g-spot. The familiar pooling of warmth below your stomach was hard to ignore. "should've known you were a slut when I saw your cute little pussy, only dumb sluts get wet like that," The boost of confidence he received once feeling your spasming walls was immense, clenching around him with every degrading word.

He slows, but not to a complete stop. "kats!—..." you whine in frustration, quickly pressing your lips together afterward. It surprises you as much as it does him. Not understanding why, after all this time, you wanted him more than ever. He edged you closer and closer, his fingertips kissing your cervix.

"Beg me," He said, yet you fought your lips to stay still, not wanting to embarrass yourself further. "Ah, teacher's pet thinks she's better than me, huh?" Bakugou's heavy hand suddenly connected with your bum, making you yelp at the stinging pain, "You know, I've got all day..."

"Please," You said weakly. Not good enough.

"C'mon, you can do better. Don't you wanna cum on my fingers..?" He spoke in a condescending tone, caressing the spot on your ass where he hit.

Fuck it, your head was far too gone. "please, katsu— i need... i wanna cum so bad..." Close, but not yet.

"Can't hear you, babe," His hand moves to tap against your clit, making you shudder with every hit. "Be a good little bitch for me, speak up..."

"Fu—Fuck... Katsu... please make me cum..! Need you... bad, lemme cum on your fingers— please..!

He smirked to himself, not entirely pleased but you'll learn — you're such an obedient student. Continuing with his pace, his thumb rolled across your swollen sex as the blonde watched expectantly. Making you unwind with every curl of his fingers until finally, a wave of pleasure rode over your body. Cum gushed from your entrance and onto Bakugou's fingers as he massaged your spot. Quickly finding himself mesmerized by your trembling thighs and sounds of ecstasy.

Eagerly removing his fingers once you've calmed, helping you ride out your orgasm before licking them clean. He moved to your dripping cunt, happily lapping at whatever sticky essence overflowed until his lips and chin shined under the overhead lights. As you pant and quiver, he gives you some encouraging pats on your bum.

He stands, and you hear the jingle of his belt before seeing his shadow move closer to you. Pushing his brawny arms through the gap, he loops the leather belt around your neck before fastening it. Bakugou gives an experimental tug and forces the strap upwards. The loop is loose enough for you to breathe but tight enough to leave indents.

He uses his strength to push the slider door open; it moves with ease. The old pesky thing was barely jammed, you probably could’ve gotten up on your own if you tried hard enough. Bakugou stares down as you try to move despite your aches and pains. “dummy doesn’t know basic physics, could’ve opened it yourself, bitch,”

Ignoring him, you try to stand but the blonde grasps the strap of his belt and tugs your body downward — making you fall straight on your knees again. Your body has become numb to the pain; when he presses his foot against your back again, you don’t even flinch. Bakugou kisses his teeth, annoyed that you're still whimpering. His belt is too short to stand, so he squats in front of you.

As you try to find comfort by caressing your aches, he pinches one of your cheeks harshly — forcing you to stare up at him, all teary-eyed and disheveled. The quick flash of his smartphone camera blinds your eyes, flashing white before fading.

"What did you do..?" You ask, but he doesn't need to answer. Instead, Bakugou moves his phone away from your face. "Please don't show that to your friends..."

It should've made him guilty. Hearing your desperate voice with puppy eyes begging him. But it only reminded him why he hated you so much, so weak and fragile yet somehow above him.

"Don't fuckin' look at me like that... I won't," No matter how much of an ass he wanted to be, he could never do that.

You're his personal conquest, the trophy, and the envy of all his friends. Knowing you, you'll probably take your 'goody-two shoes' ass and run to that professor you're close with or someone else he doesn't know. You can't run away yet, he wants to have more fun. Maybe fuck your brains out til' his name is the only thing your dumb ass can remember.

Bakugou stands and decides to bring his phone out once again, this time recording.

"I won't tell a soul, so put on your prettiest face... just for me,"

| ✎ hitoshiyoshi's kinktober masterlist |

[heartforbangtan]

The only exception | 1

Series Summary: What are the consequences of having your first kiss with your best friend?

Pairing: Park Jimin X Female Reader 

Genre:  Dancer AU, Friends with Benefits, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Romance, Mutual Pining 

Chapter Count: 1 /? (ongoing) 

Word count: 4k+

Content Warnings: anxiety attacks

Tag list

| index | next ⭢

You got me sippin' on something I can't compare to nothing I've ever known, I'm hoping That after this fever I'll survive  The Heart Wants What It Wants - Selena Gomez 

Current days 

Seoul, South Korea

“Park, you'll be up in 10 minutes”

Jimin hears from his dance instructor as he sits in his dressing room, waiting to perform. He looks in the mirror – his face looks tired, but he needs to give it his all up there on stage, no matter how tired he is.

Agreeing with the instructor, Jimin checks to see if everything is okay with his clothes. The instructor is still at the dressing room door.

“This is your last performance of this season, please do your best.” Jimin hears the man speaking, but tries not to absorb the meaning of the words.

It was always like this. Constantly being held accountable for perfection, as if he didn't already deliver something good enough every time he performed. Deep down, Jimin knew he had gotten himself into this. It wasn't the instructor's fault or the audience's fault for demanding too much. It was only his fault, for having set his standards so high and for having suffered so much to maintain something that is practically impossible to maintain. He’s tired, but he can't stand the idea of ​​failing at something, of not always giving his best.

Jimin sits in front of a mirror in the dressing room while the man stares at him in the mirror, waiting for confirmation from him after his speech. Jimin nods again, silently, praying that he will leave him alone in these last few minutes before the performance. The instructor pats the boy on the shoulder and gives a small smile before walking out the door.

Jimin takes a deep breath and relaxes his shoulders. He needs to concentrate and not focus on what he just heard, so he can do his work without his thoughts getting in the way.

He twists his neck from side to side to crack it. The pain in his neck and shoulder still bothers him, despite the medicine and compresses.

He barely recognizes himself in the mirror's reflection. And his face doesn't look pleasant looking at him from the front like that.

Jimin is lost.

When did things become like this?

When he goes up on stage in his all-black outfit, Jimin forgets about all the problems that exist and everything that is bothering him. He hears the voices calling his name in unison and his skin crawls. A feeling that he can't compare to anything else. The only time he is truly happy is here.

He just focuses on the sound of the piano that starts playing, alerting him to start dancing.

And that's how he's been trying not to think about how he no longer sees meaning and purpose in his life. Trying to fool himself with each passing day, with each pain he feels and with each request for more and more perfection.

You sigh heavily and lean back in your chair, stretching. It's almost lunchtime and you're starving.

Before you could get up from your chair to go to lunch early, your boss hurriedly arrived at your desk. You know the way she's acting, and it only means one thing: a new advertising contract for the company.

You take a deep breath and think that at least there will be a distraction to take you out of this endless wave of regrets.

You’re already smiling when she pulls up a chair and sits closer to your desk. Even though she’s your boss, she’s also become a friend, sharing lunches and friday nights after work. So when she comes in excited about a new project, you can’t help but be excited too.

“This well-known agency hired us to advertise one of their dancers.” your boss says with a smile and continues. “And I think you're perfect for what they're asking for, so I've already given them your contact details. This week they're going to schedule a meeting so we can sort everything out.”

You listen carefully and are happy to know that she trusts your work so much that she assigned you directly, without even talking to you first.

“What is the name of the agency?”

“Hybe! Can you believe it?“ Minah continues talking about how happy she was that the company had been recognized by Hybe, which is such a big agency, but you can no longer hear what she was saying.

Your head spins slightly and you feel like you're losing your balance, even though you're sitting in your chair. You try with all your might to focus your eyes on Minah's as she pours all her happiness into you. And you pray that she doesn't notice how disoriented you are by this information.

It was obvious that Hybe had a lot of dancers and just because you could have been assigned to work with any of them didn't mean it had to be him.

“Here, I'll show you a video of their dancer. He's amazing, you have no idea!” Minah was really excited.

She played around on her phone for a few seconds and then pressed play on a video to show you. And the confirmation you needed came like a bucket of cold water. On the screen was a video of Jimin performing on stage. He looked incredible, as always. You had no doubt about that. The black outfit, his hair that was now blond, his dance moves, everything was in perfect harmony. Jimin looked like an angel dancing.

“His name is Jimin. I'm already in love!”

Hearing his name like that was like a knife had been stabbed through your chest.

Your paths went in different directions. You graduated in advertising and continued working in that field, while Jimin decided to study dance at a college far from where you lived. A lot of things happened between you two…

And now you live in Seoul. The same capital that is home to his company.

You hadn't officially cut ties, but a lot had happened between the two of you. It made you sad, sadder than you'd like to admit. Plus, it hurt more and more to see pictures of him with new friends. To know that he was meeting new people and that maybe you weren't missed as much anymore. And you knew that maybe it wasn't healthy to think that way, but you couldn't stop thinking about it.

You know. Deep down you know. Even though you try not to think about it so much and always change the subject when it comes up.

You know that between the two of you it was never just friendship. You also know that maybe it all started on that damn day you decided to kiss. And you also know that the two of you avoid this subject.

Unfortunately, you're too much of a coward to face it and question it. You never had the courage to ask Jimin if he really liked you, or if he wanted something more. To this day you don't know what all that meant to Jimin.

You give Minah your best fake smile and she seems to buy it, still excited about all the news.

“When will be the meeting with them?”

Minah finally comes out of her cell phone trance to look at you.

“Tomorrow!”

You would have less time than you expected to prepare for your meeting again.

It had been a few months since you had stopped following Jimin's performances and news about his life. It was better this way. If you wanted to finally move on, you couldn't stay stuck in this, following his every step every day.

It was a hellish day at work.

When you woke up in the morning you were absolutely certain that it was all just a nightmare and that you wouldn't have to work with Jimin, of all the people in the world.

But your happiness was short-lived when you saw the message on your cell phone, sent a few hours ago.

Best chef 10:44 PM: Hey, I gave your contact to Jimin, okay?? Try to make friends with him, xoxo 😉.

You tried to keep calm by looking at the other unread message you had on your phone.

Unknown Number 03:11AM: We need to talk.

You didn't even need to open the message to know who that number was from that wasn't saved in your contact list. Your eyes closed tightly and you fell back onto the bed with your face buried in the pillow.

You weren't ready to deal with this now. And maybe you never would be ready. Jimin was a sensitive subject in your life. Never in your entire adolescence did you imagine that there would come a day when you would be separated and avoiding each other. Much less did you imagine that you wouldn't even have his contact saved in your list anymore.

By the time the water from the shower hit your body, you had already accepted the reality that you would have to talk to Jimin. If you were going to have to work together, you might as well start interacting. You didn't want this to ruin all your years of hard work. You valued this job and all the opportunities Minah had given you.

As soon as you entered the office, your eyes were drawn straight to the glass-walled meeting room. There he was. Even from the back and with his different hair, you could recognize him. You felt your legs lose their strength and all the courage and determination you had gathered during the morning were gone in the blink of an eye.

Before anyone could see you and say good morning, you ran to the nearest bathroom and locked yourself in. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your breath was getting short. You couldn't afford to have a panic attack in the middle of your shift. You couldn't.

However, as with any other panic attack, the more you think about it, the more you get into it.

You looked at yourself in the mirror as you gripped the edge of the sink to keep yourself upright. Your face was red and tears were already filling your eyes, threatening to fall. You thought you had already gotten over that phase of shaking every time Jimin was possibly near or in the same room as you. Apparently the wound was much deeper than you imagined.

The minutes passed by quickly while you were still frozen in the same position, with cold tears streaming down your face. You saw them running down and falling into the sink, not having the courage to look at your own state in the mirror again. You couldn't recognize yourself in those moments.

Outside the bathroom, you could already hear the office getting busier with the arrival of all the employees. You thanked God for having arrived early today, still having a few extra minutes to compose yourself without being late for work.

You took one last deep breath and searched with trembling hands for the bag that you had just thrown on the toilet when you entered the bathroom. You saw on your cell phone that it had already been 15 minutes since the time you arrived.

After taking a few breaths and wiping away your tears, you left the bathroom still a little shaky. You tried to walk silently to your desk, but your coworker could see the expression on your face.

“Good morni-Jesus! It looks like you saw a ghost.” Hana said laughing through her nose and you forced a giggle. This was not a time for jokes.

“Good morning. I think breakfast didn't suit me well’ You lied, sitting at your desk, dropping your bag and turning on your computer.

You didn't have the audacity to look into the meeting room to see if Jimin was still there. But the way you were feeling, you could almost certainly tell that he was still there. Either way, the meeting wouldn't have ended so quickly for him to have already left.

As soon as the computer turned on, you relaxed a little because you had something to distract yourself with, other than thinking about his imminent presence in the same room as you. However, your peace lasted only a few minutes, because soon Hana was already bringing up the subject you most wanted to avoid in your entire existence.

“Have you seen our new client?” She tilted her head to the side.

“Hm, not yet.“ You tried not to give it much importance, but she continued.

“I only saw him from afar, but wow” she made a dramatic pause and you were forced to look at her face. If the situation wasn't like that you would probably laugh at her expression.”He's gorgeous! And he has a beautiful ass!” Hana said more quietly and laughed, putting her hand over her mouth.

You almost choked on what she said. Your eyes widened for a few seconds. You quickly turned your face to the computer screen and pretended to open some tabs to work. No, seriously, this is not the time to think about that.

“I really didn't see it.”Again you tried to show that you weren't paying much attention to the situation.

“As soon as he leaves that room you have to take a look.” She said and you agreed silently, finally putting an end to this conversation that despite being short, was torturous.

She couldn't even imagine how much you didn't want to have to "take a look" at him, but you will certainly be forced to do so. For work reasons!

It was obvious that everyone already knew he was here. What they didn't know was that you were already assigned to work with him. And even worse, that you had known him for years…

Jimin was an unresolved part of your life that you didn't go around telling everyone as soon as you met them. The person closest to you in that office was your boss, Minah. But even she didn't know about your history with him. After all, what good would it do you to tell her about it? You don't even talk about it with your best friends, only with your psychologist.

Focusing on the tasks that were to be done, you tried to forget the tremor that still roamed your body, making your fingers sweat and your feet get cold from time to time.

You don't know how much time has passed since you sat down to work and entered your own world, but apparently it was enough time for the meeting to get going. You were forced to look in the direction of the meeting room when you heard movement coming from there. From the door of the room you see Minah with half of her body outside calling you. Your whole body freezes. You didn't want to participate in that meeting, but it was inevitable.

A few more colleagues head into the room to participate in this part of the meeting. And you thank God that you don't have to go into that room alone and be the center of everyone's attention.

As soon as you took a step towards the room, your feet felt like they were walking on clouds, and not in a good way. It was like you were going to lose your balance and fall at any moment, the environment getting further away from you with each passing second. You knew you were about to have another panic attack, but you really couldn't afford that to happen now.

When you entered the room, everyone was chatting casually, in what seemed like a short break. Minah was sitting down and directing the chair you should sit next to her at the table.

“Y/n! I just found out that you two already knew each other before. That's amazing. Why didn't you tell me before? “ Minah says in a cheerful tone and it almost makes you want to run away.

He told her about you.

Your stomach churns and the room seems to get smaller around you.

You smile at Minah and greet everyone in the room as you sit down at the circle of tables.

“Yes, we were... friends back in school” you feel the word “friends” weigh heavy on your tongue and hope no one noticed that.

Your eyes lift to look directly at Jimin, who was already analyzing you from across the table. His face shows nothing when he sees you. For a moment, you feel angry and want to yell at him, tell him to react in some way when he sees you, any way. So that it doesn't seem like you're the only one affected by his presence, as if you're the only one who has experienced all these feelings all these years. But you know that you can't demand that of him. If you haven't moved on in all these years, the responsibility is completely yours.

‘That's great. We don't need to start with the formalities then, let's get straight to the point.”

Minah opens a PowerPoint projected on the wall and begins to explain what the company offers and how things work. She also explains how you will fit into it and asks you to give a brief introduction of what your job entails.

You know Jimin isn't looking at you any differently than the others in the room, but you still feel uncomfortable, as if he can see through your skin and into your mind. Despite your nervousness, you manage to maintain your composure and present your work satisfactorily.

The meeting finally ends after a few more minutes of conversation and you couldn't be more relieved. The only thing you wanted at that moment was to escape his presence and gaze.

“I think we'll make a great team.” the agency manager says happily at the end of the meeting.

“I agree.” Minah and the manager shake hands, which are then passed to you.

Somehow, you managed to avoid shaking hands with Jimin in the middle of all the people in the room. You excused yourself and said you had to go to the bathroom and took the opportunity to leave. Everyone still stayed inside the room, chatting casually, without rushing. As soon as you stepped out of the room, your body shivered.

You only managed to take a breath outside the room before someone caught up with you. Your thoughts were so disorganized that you didn't even notice the person following you out of the room.

But there would be no way you wouldn't recognize his presence, even if a thousand years had passed.

“I need to talk to you.” Jimin holds your wrist for a brief moment, lightly, and then lets go. Your face turns to him with a frightened expression.

“Not now, please.“ your expression is of pain. And you are feeling pain. In your chest.

You were alone in the hallway that led to the meeting room. The last thing you wanted was for your coworkers to see you whispering in a hallway. You made to leave, but Jimin continued.

“Why didn't you answer my message?” Jimin asks, getting straight to the point.

You were forced to look at him. You hadn't realized that you hadn't replied to his message. The wave of panic was so big that you didn't even open the message, you just looked at it in the notification bar. Your mind worked quickly to come up with a plausible response.

“ I didn't see.” You say quickly, looking away from him and ready to return to your table once more.

“Wait!“ once again that hand on your wrist, just rubbing the fingers gently, like a touch of silk.

This time your body reacts quickly and you pull your hand away from his touch. You didn't want him to touch you, that was for people who were more intimate. And you weren't close anymore. You could even risk saying that you didn't know each other anymore…

Your reaction didn't go unnoticed by his gaze, breaking it a little more without you knowing.

“ What?” you look at his face, hoping Jimin will quickly say what he needs so you can get back to work.

The silence and tension between you is palpable. If you weren't in the workplace, you would probably explode at this moment.

You can't stand being around him like this.

“Please, give me a chance to talk to you“ Jimin speaks softly, pleadingly.

You're surprised by what he says. You expected him to brush it off again, say it was nothing, and pretend everything was fine.

It seems that some things change with time.

You still analyze him for a few seconds, looking for any form of joke behind his words.

You need to answer it soon because people are starting to leave the room.

“Okay, I will”  you agree, but in reality you want to run away from him.

Or beat him up until he understands that you haven't been truly happy for years, and it's all his fault. But that's for another time.

Jimin nods and finally lets you go, watching your back as you walk around the office.

You return silently to your desk. Everyone is busy with their tasks, as if nothing had happened. And indeed, nothing had happened. Only to you.

You were the only one who was shaken by this situation. The only one who seemed to be hiding in a dark shadow, without the strength to get up.

The rest of the day passes slowly. You don't see Jimin anymore that day and you don't know whether to be grateful or not.

However, you weren't able to get Jimin out of your head even if you wanted to. He was the topic of every conversation with your colleagues, and even with your boss, who wanted to go over some information with you.

When you got home at night, it felt like all your energy had been drained from your body. And your work hadn't even been that tiring. It was all emotional exhaustion.

You feel embarrassed and wonder how you're going to tell your psychologist that no, you're not over him yet. And that maybe you haven't made any progress, even with all the conversations you've had about it.

Practice is very different from theory.

Sitting at the kitchen table with wet hair while eating pre-made pasta made in the microwave, you open Jimin's message.

He hasn't sent anything since. You need to take a sip from the generous glass of wine you poured yourself before you write anything to him.

You 08:35PM: Yes. Let's talk Does Friday at 7pm work for you?

Another sip and a bite of pasta. Jimin sees it and your heart races. How fast!

Another sip of wine. To swallow the pasta.

Jimin 08:36PM: Sure. Where do you want to meet?

Shit. You hadn't thought of that.

It takes you a few seconds to think of somewhere that is close enough that you can escape quickly if something happens.

You 08:38PM: Maybe at the coffee shop down the street from the office? Jimin 08:39PM: Sounds good to me

Something about this phone conversation didn't feel right. Maybe it was the formal tone you were using, or maybe it was the way you no longer knew how to talk to each other.

You replied with another message confirming and left your phone out of sight on the table so you could finish eating your meal.

The food was starting to go down your throat with some difficulty after that conversation. You were already starting to think about all the possibilities of this meeting, how it would go, what exactly you would talk about. This wasn't doing your mind any good.

Maybe you wouldn't sleep tonight.

You twirl the pen between your fingers as you look at the notebook in front of you, searching for the right words to write down what you just heard.

Minah leads the meeting with the marketing team, including you. The discussions involve what each person's role will be now with this new contract with Hybe.

“Y/n, I need you to work directly with Jimin” Minah directs to you.

Your gaze is neutral and not surprised. Somehow you have already accepted this reality and no longer try to fight it. Maybe you were dead inside.

You nod and Minah continues.

“You will do everything according to his preferences. I need you to work together on this.” she emphasizes and you agree.

Internally you are screaming. You know that working with any other client would be like this too, but something about her words and about Jimin makes you angry.

You didn't want to have to take orders from him, or have to work alongside him.

You wonder what kind of sick joke the universe wanted to play on you.

The week goes by faster than you would like. All you wanted was the weekend to rest, but that would also mean getting through the day you and Jimin were going to meet. And you didn't want to meet him.

A/N: aaaa finally the first chapter of The Only Exception. I hope you like it as much as I like this story. My idea is to follow the line of: one chapter in the present, another chapter in the past, to explain how everything happened between them. Did that get confusing? I hope not lmao

© heartforbangtan 2024. All rights reserved.

[kaeddehara]

♱ — STUDYING WITH ALBEDO — NSFW

+. NOTES — this is a slightly longer than anticipated drabble about your perverted classmate albedo who’s top of his class. he’s been eyeing you for some time and unnoticed by him, you might share those same feelings for him…!

+. WARNINGS — nsfw + mdni + blowjob + virgin bedo + college au + voyerism + exhibitionism + slight hair pulling + shy!virigin!bedo x dominate!experienced!reader !

albedo had a similar routine of study sessions he held for those who asked for help from him. it was few, but in those times, he enjoyed it. often being so quiet and kept to himself, getting to not only talk to others but it being about something he really enjoys? it brings out the absolute best in him! that’s not to say when he found out you wanted to have a study session with him, he practically stuttered over his words and face turned red. having such a cute girl like you wanting to spend time with him was making albedo hot in the face. even if it was just studying. you seemed so sweet, gentle even with a calming energy that matched his own. even then, albedo has little to no experience talking with girls. he often found his eyes wandering and heart pumping so fast he couldn’t hear anything except it. how pathetic he was, overthinking every little detail even though all you probably wanted was some quick studying in.

“albedo?”

you said a little louder to get his attention. he’s been spacing out for some time now and it was starting to worry you. his eyes finally darting everywhere as he regains his focus.

“i-i’m um—“

he stutters over his words which you found adorable.

trying your best to hold back a smirk as you give him a small smile.

“my apologies, start over again with what you were saying”.

so sweet of him.

though, it was a good cover up for how he really was. you’d follow where his pretty blue eyes wandered and sometimes could even make out a faint outline of his bulge in his pants. how cute. he could barley keep it together around you. you started over from where you were as albedo continued your study session. he was surprisingly a good instructor when he got into topics he enjoyed. his otherwise quiet and cold demeanor was soon pushed away. but before you could get too distracted, you asked him a question while he began to pack things up.

“why not let me treat you! it’s well deserved after all”

albedo scratched the side of his face in thought. he didn’t know the next time he’d have a chance like this but what if you weren’t even into him at all? he mentally sighed as he knew he shouldn’t even be thinking of asking you of anything. if anything, you probably just felt bad for him right?

“there’s no need please, im more than happy just to help you with class work”

you sighed a little at his response but also wanted to smile at how respectful he came off.

“how about…i help you out with something else?”

“something else?”

“someone’s gonna see, someone’s gonna- ah-!”

albedo covered his mouth as quickly as he let that pathetic whine out. taking a good look around to make sure no one else was there to witness what was going down. how could you get both of you in such a risky situation? you only continued on your reward for albedo as you tugged at his waist band. he pushed up his glasses up as he tried to regain some control of the situation. your pretty hands teasing their way along albedos rather warm skin. his eyes shut at your touch, being so nervous and going solely based off his bodies reactions.

it felt so foreign yet so heavenly for albedo it was hard to contain any sort of composure. finally pulling down his pants enough to release him, he felt the cold air touch his hot to the touch skin. seething slightly at the feeling, albedo lowly groaned, a hand soon coming to cover his mouth and avoid any unwanted attention or getting caught. letting his cock release from the constriction of his pants as his aching hard cock bobbed under its own weight. from someone of albedos stature, it was a pretty impressive size. such a pretty color and shape too. the soft outline of his v-line tempted you go hard to continue teasing but thought it best to get down to it straight away to save him the build up.

always having a feeling these kinda boys were hiding something. the thickness made you drool at the thought of how nice he would feel stretching you out, but that would have to be saved for another time <3. this only urging yourself to wrap your fingers around him and gently pump his aching cock up and down in rhythmic motions. you looked up to albedo, watching his pretty features become distorted with this overwhelming pleasure.

“f-fuck that feels good”

he couldn’t even hold back his own thoughts anymore. best part was, you hadn’t even gotten to the actual reward.

“you can’t deny me now can you bedo?” you teasingly joked with him as he shifted his hips in his seat to look more natural.

“hah..i guess..”

you giggled at his attempt to keep a cool face and quiet voice even though his heart was racing. as you continued stroking him, you’d watched him become more relaxed, taking this as a sign to move on. you moved your face closer to his swelled tip before looking up to him once more. feeling your breath on his skin was such a heavenly feeling in itself. still keeping that eye contact, you began to give his neglected tip gentle licks and kisses. as you did so you pulled back for a moment to ask albedo a question.

“have you ever gotten a blowjob albedo?” already knowing the answer but still wanting to hear what he had to say.

“n-no..”

you could tell he was embarrassed and you loved hearing that in his voice. smiling, you let your spit begin to drip down one of his many thick, pulsing veins as you once again stroked his now slicked cock. the lewd sounds of albedos cock being pumped while you continued to kiss and lick his tip were already getting you needy.

“guess i’ll be your first then hm?” albedos cheeks where flushed along with his mouth being slightly parted. he looked so pretty all messy for you. he nodded awkwardly but that didn’t last for long as you soon took albedo inside your tight, hot mouth. albedos back practically arched at the feeling. as his hand, out of some sort of instinct, made its way to your hair. you looked up to him while stilling him inside your mouth. he’s so fucking cute you can’t wait to show him what else you can make him feel. starting to bob your head gently up and down albedo still had to get used to the feeling of your mouth.

he’d seen this in porn he’s watched many times before but never would he have imagined it feeling so damn good. his pretty blue eyes becoming half lidded because of the immense pleasure. focusing on your mouth, you moved your hands up to rest of his thigh.

taking glances up to see if albedo was enjoying his first ever blowjob and yet, you could tell he was still so stressed and worried about getting caught. even while knowing there was no one else in the library at that time. squeezing at his thigh and rubbing your thumb into the soft flesh to help him relax and soothe his beating heart. he did appreciate it even while he couldn’t help his body.

“i-i’m so sorry i meant to warn you but-“

albedo cut himself off short when he saw you swallow his cum and lick your lips after. being so in awe of how sensual you were, his pretty class mate licking up his cum in the library after a study session sounded nothing more than a dream after all. putting your hands on his thighs again, you gave him a small smile.

“nothing to be sorry about bedo, you taste nice anyway”

his face was distorted with some sort of rather shocked yet pleased feeling. he pushed up his glasses awkwardly but so cutely after receiving something you’re sure will cloud his mind for weeks. so in awe of how nice you were towards someone like him.

“let’s do this again sometime bedo, next time we can take it to my dorm”

“may i ask— why did you do this for me?”

you smiled gently at his question.

“to thank you for helping me out, it’s only fair right?”

albedo thought about your response momentarily before you leaned in closer to his body.

“also, because i think you’re cute silly”

leaving a small kiss on his thigh, he tensed up but never once denied you of anything. having albedo wrapped around your finger was such an easy task that had been earned <3.

albedo was still twitching slightly from his orgasm, especially his sensitive little thighs, so you took his silence as a compliment. who knew treating that cute, nerdy boy would be such a reward.

“see you next study session yeah?”

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖚𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖉𝖞

Mike Schmidt x gn reader

Summary: You and Mike are fighting for full custody of Mike's little sister, Abby, against their aunt Jane, who seeks custody solely for financial gain. Due to your demanding jobs, the custody battle drags on, and the court mandates that you and Mike attend a childcare course twice a week. But no one warned you of how boring it would turn out to be.

Warnings: no pronouns used for reader. Fluff and smut.

Words count: 2500

Can also be found on ao3 and wattpad

You sit beside Mike in a cramped, overly air-conditioned conference room, its walls adorned with peeling paint and motivational posters that haven't been updated in ages. The fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over everything, making it feel more like a hospital waiting room than a place for learning.

The professional at the front drones on, her voice a monotone murmur as she reads verbatim from a bland PowerPoint presentation. Her monotonous drone fills the air, a relentless onslaught of lifeless bullet points on child care, each one more tedious than the last.

You glance at the clock, its ticking a constant reminder of the hours dragging on.

You shift in your chair, trying to get comfortable while feeling the hard plastic dig into your back.

Mike shifts uncomfortably in his seat next to you, his eyes struggling to stay open. His fatigue is palpable, dark circles mar his eyes, and his hair is tousled in a way that suggests he barely had time to run a comb through it before rushing here. You know he's had a rough night, another sleepless vigil followed by a demanding night shift.

He glances at you with a weary but determined smile, trying to muster some enthusiasm. He leans in closer, the warmth of his body a comforting contrast to the chill in the room. "Is it just me, or is this the most boring thing ever?" he whispers, his voice low and gruff with fatigue.

You chuckle softly, not wanting to attract the instructor's attention. "Definitely not just you," you reply, sharing a conspiratorial smile. The instructor, a gray-haired woman in an ill-fitting suit, continues to read directly from her PowerPoint slides, oblivious to the whispers and stifled yawns in the room.

Mike shifts his chair even closer to you, his knee brushing against yours under the table. "I can't believe we have to sit here twice a week," he murmurs. "I'd rather be doing... well, pretty much anything else."

He's trying so hard to stay awake, but the material is unrelentingly dull.

He had already taken care of Abby since her birth, those were all things that he knew already.

You shuffle closer to him, your chairs scraping softly against the linoleum floor. He leans closer, his arm bushing yours. "How are we supposed to learn anything when she's just reading to us?" His voice a low, gravelly murmur.

You smile at him, appreciating his effort. "Just try to hang in there, Mike. The more you think about it, the slower time seems to go away."

He leans closer to you again, his breath warm against your ear. "I don't know how much longer I can stay awake," he confesses, his voice laced with a tired charm that makes your heart flutter.

You nudge him playfully "Just try to hang in there."

Mike sighs heavily, his eyes blinking slowly. He leans even closer, his lips almost brushing your ear. "You know, if this were a different kind of class, I'd be finding other ways to stay awake," he murmurs, his voice taking on a playful, flirtatious tone despite his exhaustion.

You can't help but giggle softly. "Oh really? And what would those ways be?"

He smirks, his tired eyes twinkling mischievously. "Maybe we could... practice some hands-on techniques" he suggests, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You're way more interesting than this presentation," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your boredom.

You chuckled softly again, glancing around to make sure no one notices, "Focus, Mike. Stop distracting me."

He chuckles, but it's a weary sound. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's hard when you're sitting right next to me."

You roll your eyes affectionately, but you can't deny the warmth spreading through your chest.

Before you can respond, the lecturer clears her throat, and you both straighten up, trying to look attentive. Mike stifles a yawn, his hand covering his mouth.

You turn your attention back to the presentation, scribbling notes as the professional continues to drone on.

This course is just another hoop to jump through in the fight for custody of Abby. Jane, their aunt, is contesting custody, not out of love, but for the financial benefits. The thought makes your blood boil, but you push it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

Mike's voice breaks through your thoughts, softer this time. "I really appreciate you being here with me," he says, his hand finding yours under the table. "I couldn't do this without you."

Your heart swells with affection. "We're in this together," you reply, squeezing his hand. "We'll get through it, boring lectures and all."

An hour passes with agonizing slowness.

The instructor's droning voice seems to meld with the hum of the air conditioning, creating a soporific background noise. Mike continues to fidget, his head bobbing slightly as he fights to stay awake. You can see the struggle in his eyes, and it breaks your heart.

This woman was a living sleeping pill and was starting to have an effect on you as well.

Suddenly you feel a weight on your shoulder. You glance over to find Mike fast asleep, his head resting against you, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you close even in sleep. His soft snores are a gentle, rhythmic sound in your ear. They tickle, and you stifle a laugh.

You glance around the room, hoping no one has noticed. The couple in front of you provides some cover, their heads bent together as they whisper and giggle, clearly paying no more attention to the lecture than you are.

You adjust your position slightly, trying to make yourself more comfortable while supporting his weight. The last thing you want is to wake him up; he desperately needs the rest.

With one arm pinned by Mike's embrace, you do your best to jot down the key points from the slides, your handwriting growing messier as your hand tires.

The instructor continues her monotonous lecture, oblivious to the sleeping figure beside you.

Mike stirs, his body slipping precariously towards the edge of his chair. You gasp softly and adjust him, his head lolling against your shoulder. He mumbles something, his arm tightening around your waist. You bite your lip to keep from laughing, your heart swelling with affection for him.

Every so often, Mike shifts or murmurs in his sleep, and you can't help but smile at his vulnerability. Despite the circumstances, there's something endearing about his trust in you, his ability to find solace in your presence even in such an unlikely place.

He looks so peaceful, so vulnerable. Your heart warms at the thought of his trust in you, even in sleep.

You glance around the room from time to time, paranoid that the professional will notice Mike's slumber.

Your eyes meet those of a woman sitting a few rows away. She's watching you with a smile, amusement dancing in her eyes.

Panic flares momentarily.

What if she tells you?

The woman shifts slightly, revealing her own husband, who is slumped in his chair, fast asleep with his mouth open. She rolls her eyes and looks back at you, her expression a mix of resignation and amusement. You relax a bit, realizing she's not going to make a scene.

Time drags on. The instructor moves from one tedious topic to the next, covering everything a child needs with the same lackluster enthusiasm. You find yourself stifling yawns leaning toward Mike’s head without applying too much pressure.

You know how much this means to Mike, and by extension, to you. Abby deserves to be with someone who genuinely cares for her, not someone who sees her as a paycheck.

A sudden loud snort startles you, and you realize it came from Mike. You glance around quickly, but it seems no one noticed. You stifle a laugh, shaking your head fondly at him. Seeing him like this, vulnerable and unguarded, only makes you love him more.

Two hours later, the session finally comes to an end. The instructor wraps up with a few half-hearted words of encouragement before dismissing everyone.

You nudge Mike gently, whispering his name. He stirs, blinking groggily as he lifts his head from your shoulder and starts looking around in confusion. "Did I fall asleep?”

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, but don't worry. I took notes for both of us."

He sighs, a mix of relief and embarrassment on his face. "You're amazing, you know that?"

Mike stretches, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess.

"Ready to go home?" you ask, linking your arm with his.

He nods, a tired but content smile on his face. "Yeah. Let's get out of here."

The drive home is quiet, both of you lost in your thoughts. The fight for Abby's custody is far from over, but moments like these remind you why it's all worth it. You glance over at Mike, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. He's tired, but there's a determination in his eyes that makes you proud to stand by his side.

As you crawl into bed, the exhaustion finally hits you. Mike slides in next to you, his arm immediately wrapping around your waist. You turn to face him, your eyes meeting in the dim light.

"Thank you for today" he says, his voice soft and sincere. "I couldn't do this without you."

You smile, Jeaning in to kiss him. "We're in this together, Mike. For Abby"

“Speaking of which, should we text Vanessa?” You asked him. You had asked her if she could watch over Abby while you were both busy without really giving her a perfect hour of when you will both be free again.

She agreed whole heartily, saying she had no problems at keeping her until night.

“Let’s wait a little longer. I’m sure Abby is having fun with her”

“You’re already tired?” a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The memory of him dozing off, his head resting heavily on your shoulder, played through your mind like a gentle tease.

"Honestly, I can't believe you slept through the whole thing," you chuckled.

"Thanks, you know," he said, his eyes meeting yours with a spark of mischief. "Letting me use your shoulder as a pillow saved me from complete boredom."

You laughed, the sound light and easy. "Anytime. Though, I think I deserve a reward for being such a good pillow."

Mike grinned lazily as he moved closer, his hands resting on either side of your hips. "A reward, huh? I think I can manage that."

He leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that started slow and tender but quickly grew in intensity. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, your breaths mingling in the heated space between you two.

He broke the kiss. His forehead resting against yours as he whispered, his eyes gleaming with a playful glint. "You know," he began, his voice low and intimate, "I really need to tire myself out if I want to sleep tonight."

A knowing smile spread across your face. "Is that so?" you replied, your tone equally suggestive.

Without further preamble, Mike leaned in, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss once again. His hands cradled your face, his touch both tender and insistent. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you ensconced in this moment of intimacy. His kisses deepened, each one more urgent than the last, as if he was trying to erase the dullness of the evening with the intensity of his passion

You responded eagerly, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. The warmth of his body against yours, the rhythm of his breath mingling with your own, created a cocoon of shared desire. Mike's hands began to explore, tracing the contours of your body with a familiarity that still managed to ignite sparks of excitement.

As the kiss broke, Mike's eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that made your heart race. "I think I'm starting to get tired," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion.

You laughed softly, a sound of pure contentment. "Then I suppose we should keep going until you're ready to sleep," you teased, pulling him back in for another searing kiss.

He grabbed your thigh and pulled half of you body on the top of his. Your head was laying on his chest alongside your hands.

It would have felt cute and really cuddly if it wasn’t for his leg right between your thighs.

He knew what he was doing.

He pressed harder, making your breath heavier. “hm...Mike..” you breathed heavily.

Air leached outta his nose as he liked what he heard.

His hand slipped down your neck to your lower back. As his hand were giving you chills and making your back arch; his hand slipped inside and grabbed your butt. He squeezed, his grip making his nails dig into your skin, making you flinch.

“Mike please”

“You’re so adorable” Mike whispers as he presses inside.

You let out a mixture between a moan and a laugh, and Mike thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

He sets a slow and steady pace, the two of you staring into each other’s eyes as he slowly rocks them back and forth. You wrapped your arms around his neck while you shared kiss after kiss.

Mike can’t help but to speed up his movements a bit, the feeling too good to resist as he brings you that much closer to the edge.

You wrap your legs tight around Mike as he continues to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, and you moans, peppering Mike’s face with kisses as you tell him how good he is and how much you love him.

When Mike finally falls over the edge, his face is the picture of pure perfection, and you swear you’re staring at an angel as you fall right behind him, holding Mike close as the two of you try and come down from their intense high. You’re breathing hard, both of you covered in sweat, but your smiles are bright, and you share another kiss and whisper “I love you’s”.

In each other's arms, the promise of a restful night seemed almost secondary to the joy of the present moment.

Together, you'll fight for what's right, and no amount of boring lectures or bureaucratic obstacles can stand in your way.

This is an idea that popped inside of my head when I was about to fall asleep during a boring ‘lesson’ (reading slides) and it gave me the boost to continue till the end. Hope you liked it :)

[igotanidea]

Lesson one - Xbox and helmet

(Dick Grayson x reader)

Summary/request: Dick teaching reader how to drive (or how to not drive XD )

***

“Oh come on! You let Kori drive your car!”

“That’s not the word I would use since she stole-“

„tomayto, tomahto!”

„Y/N…”

„Do not Y/N me! She did drive your car!”

“Well sorry to break it to you sunshine but-“

“Do not say that!”

“Kori actually knows how to drive”

“Richard John Grayson!!”

“What?! It’s true! She can!”

“And I’m your girlfriend!”

“So what, that’s an argument for everything now?”

“YES!!”

“Y/N….”

She pouted and crossed her arms over her chest, turning back to him. If the most important argument of being in a relationship did not work on him, Y/N was more than ready to give him cold shoulder, quiet days and ignorance just to get her way. Maybe it wasn’t mature but this method proved to be effective in the past, cause her beloved Dickie could not go without her hugs and kisses for more then couple hours.

“Come on, sunshine, do not get all moody. You know I hate it when you’re mad at me…” he whispered moving closer and wrapping arms around her from behind, nuzzling into her hair and neck, planting a little kiss on her cheek.

“I’m not mad at you…” she muttered leaning on his chest, enjoying the comfort his embrace brought her. “I’m mad at myself…..” her exasperated sigh was quite a surprise given the fact she was not so open lately.

“At yourself? Why?” Dick spun her around in his arms, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead, observing her with the intensity that was supposed to read her mind.  

“Cause I’m way behind….”

“Way behind? I don’t—Oh….” The realization dawned on him.

“Yeah… exactly….”

“Sunshine, there’s nothing wrong with-“

“Guilt, intrusive thoughts, frustration, fear-“

“What?” he frowned in confusion of the nouns coming out her mouth, not making any sense.

“That’s everything that’s wrong with not getting a driver’s license in time.”

“And terrorizing your boyfriend to drive his arm and leg expensive porsche. I’d rather have you on the passenger seat where you're able to give me that little kisses of yours while driving”. he grinned and she rolled her eyes. “Ok, you know, how about we take it down a notch. There’s no need to go fast and furious on the first lesson. We can use that old ford for now, how about that?”

“You kidding me now? It’s not even about me, but I can’t imagine you getting inside the car that’s lower than S class.”

“Yeah, see how much sacrifice I make for you?”

***

It was almost impossible to focus on the gears and pedals and steering wheel and all the rules and road signs, while having Dick on the passenger seat.

Generally speaking, in any other circumstances, it wouldn’t even be funny, rather pressuring, but seeing him barely fitting in the little space, with knees right below his chin, folded in a way only an acrobat could, but one that definitely wasn’t comfortable….?

Hilarious.

And dangerously distracting.

Which became obviously obvious to both of them when Y/N almost took a wrong turn and hit the highroad.

“NO!” Dick yelled lunging at the steering wheel miraculously saving them from a dumb death under the wheels of a truck, but not from the loud sound of horn and lavatorial gesture send their way. “Y/N! What the-? Don’t close your eyes, you’re the driver for God’s sake! Y/N!”

“Sorry!” she squealed letting go off the wheel completely losing her cool.

“If I’m dying I want to go down in some spectacular way not in a car accident!”

“I’m sorry!” she squealed again. “Not my fault you’re a bad instructor!”

Dick perked up his ears, send her a terrifyingly teasing smirk and made a few sharp turns and twist, in a absolutely not-showing off way, getting them back to the parking lot where they started lesson one.

Falling back on his seat with a self-satisfaction expression, brushing one hand over the other, waiting for her reaction.

He didn’t expect the silence.

“Y/N…?” with a  few more acrobatic twist he turned to look at her face.

“I’m fine—” she stuttered, despite the pale face and widened eyes that actually brought some guilt into him.

“Hey…” he squeezed her hand in a reassuring gesture “I think your first lesson turned to be quite successful. We both survived.”

“Thanks to your instincts, not my skills.”

“Well-“ Dick searched for the right words “at least you know that as long as I’m with you, you can always feel safe. Which obviously makes me the best instructor you could ever wish for, right?” he pecked her lips quickly before leaving the car, circling it and opening the door for her, offering a hand like a real gentleman.”

“What are you doing, Dick?” Y/N unfastened her seatbelt putting both feet on the ground “I can leave this diabolical invention by myself.”

“Sure. But imagine- after having done your license – pulling out in a fancy car at one of Bruce’s party, dressed in an expensive, exclusive dress, all eyes on you as your handsome boyfriend escort you to the door. I’m only giving you a foretaste of the feeling.”

“On the empty parking lot in a shabby ten year old ford?!”

“Precisely. You need to anchor in that image to help you motivate. We’ll build from it. I promise to help you, ok?”

“Cause you want to keep an eye on me or the other road traffic participants?”

“It would be a bit embarrassing if I had to detain my own girlfriend for a road offence, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re not a police officer!”

“I’m a detective, it’s pretty much the same, besides if I see someone drive in a zigzag pattern, raising some suspicions about the driver's condition –“ Dick shrugged innocently pulling her to her feet and holding close to his chest “it’s my civilian duty to prevent any harm from happening.”

“Civilian duty?”

“Yeah, that’s why on your second lesson we’ll be doing theory rather than practice. I’ll even buy that fancy expensive Xbox F1 simulator I had my eyes on for a while….” His eyes became a little blurry and voice drifted off “but it’s all just for learning purposes. All for you. Not for me, I’m selfless!”

“Of course you are Dickie.” She chuckled “absolutely selfless “but if you’re investing in my knowledge in the form a console game, I’ll invest in your safety and purchase a helmet just for you.”

[between-two-fandoms]

sorry i'm actually insane about this. we all know buck is good at cooking, he's confident, he seems to enjoy it.

maybe they're at his place and tommy is just watching him, and there's music and something about the way he moves and talks, explaining what he's doing and why and making tommy taste everything - it's so much and so good and tommy can't believe he got so lucky.

and they'll eat together and clean up together and that's as far as tommy can restrain himself, he has to pin buck against something and kiss him hard, sliding his thigh between buck's legs and telling him how hot he is, how gorgeous he is. uses 'chef' like you might use 'sir' or 'daddy'

Tommy watching Chef Buck = Buck watching Mauy Tai or Pilot Instructor Tommy.

100% yes to all of this. Never apologize for sending me asks about domestic bucktommy. I have been WAITING for people to send me asks about them. I'm so insane about this hc too bestie.

Tommy using Chef the way Buck would use Daddy is >>>>>>>>>>

Especially cause I hc them as switches and have been trying to think of what Tommy would call Buck for AGES.

Not me opening a new Word file.

How you described it is how I pictured it going down too. Maybe they've already had a few glasses of wine so Tommy's a little less guarded about how he thinks about Buck. It's just enough wine to get him a little tipsy and the warm homey feeling in his stomach.

Tommy is trying so hard to focus on Buck's words as he continues giving Tommy a cooking lesson, but Buck is wearing a short sleeve shirt that's one size too small so his abs ripple against the apron tied tightly around his waist. It doesn't help he's wearing sweatpants that has LAFD on his ass in bold letters and KINARD embroidered on the thigh. Buck looks so good, and Tommy's brain can't comprehend the words coming out of his boyfriend's mouth because he's too distracted by Buck's large fingers against the knife. The way the tip of Buck's tongue slides against his lips as he licks them to help him concentrate on cutting things properly. The way Buck looks so confident and comfortable, so intently focused.

Tommy gets distracted a lot when he watches Buck cook. The focused expression on Buck's face, the way he expertly chops the veggies and perfectly sears the meat. How he wipes a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead with the back of his hand. The way he's so fucking competent when he cooks. Is competency a kink? Tommy needs to do research. Buck's muscles look so good in the kitchen lighting too, rippling and perfect and Tommy wants. God, Tommy wants. How did Tommy not notice how good Buck looked in the kitchen before? Is this how Buck sees him when they do flying lessons? No wonder he wants to jump Tommy's bones all the time. Tommy's crawling out of his skin watching his boyfriend work in the kitchen and Buck doesn't even seem to notice how hot and bothered he is.

[angrymiau]

the boy wonder: dick grayson!

aka: my design of him (casual), his nightwing costume, and his robin costume!

part 1/? because I'm planning to draw my headcanons of the rest of the family too! 💙💙, my headcanons and thought process below the cut ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡ (I'm insane) (I'm gonna ramble a lot)

FIRST !! His casual outfit (+ other small things) (this is going to be very long)

first things first i wanted him to be very blue because it helps me differentiate each sibling (+ steph) and have a color pallette because I'm not a character designer at all and if you ask me to combine colors I'll cry in agony, so Dick obviously got blue!! HOWEVER I didn't want to give him bright BRIGHT blue because i wanted dick to look, not soft? but approachable. I hc him to work with kids, maybe as a teacher or as an instructor, because I can't see him as a cop at all (aside from undercover maybe, which if i remember correctly is why he was a cop in the first place) in the long-term—and so I used colors that are mostly soft / not very bright because they're not very stimulating for kids or could distract them too much, and can also tend to be sorta soothing / calming ?? soft colors can help kids focus and soothe them

which is what brings me to my other point, which was drawing with small details to make him look more welcoming and approachable and not threatening at all, at least not as dick grayson, was giving him bushy eyebrows, messy hair and big(?) eyes!! there's not big explanation to that, just that when giving him small details like those i try to follow the theme i gave him in the first place

Aside from that, I like to think his bad fashion sense is a conscious decision. As in he knows how to dress properly, and he can design good suits, but he consciously chooses obnoxious things or things that don't match just for the giggles. Why not. (I'm a firm believer that Discowing should come back it was a great suit). He dresses very well but some days he will show up at the Manor looking like an unicorn threw up on him and being a walking fashion crime and acts unaware to it. Why not.

Other small thing is the necklace!! i was going to draw it to be a four-leaf clover but couldnt draw it so it just ended like that. It has a picture of himself + his fam, a picture that Tim took, so Dick edited Tim's face into the photo with photoshop so in the middle of it there's Tim's floating face

I also hc Dick with another height! I know he's 5'10", which is close to 178cm if I'm correct, but I actually hc him to be shorter, and to be small since he was a kid but having The Growth Spurt when he was around or so! It's only a few cms, I just hc him to be 174cm lol, it's only a 4 cm difference

Last thing which is totally self-indulgent, those dark spots on Dick's neck, knuckles and elbows are because I hc him to have insulin resistance! Because I do since I was a kid, and because why not. I looked it up and it's apparently called 'Acanthosis nigricans' (im fully healthy btw dont worry 👊), I just wanted Dick to have it

I also hc Dick to be genderqueer and bi&demisexual but that has nothing to do with his design

Now!!! Nightwing!!!!!

This was more easier and there's not a lot of different things, but I added some things I like,

Since Dick has long hair, and I'm a firm believer of the fact that hairstyles change how someone can perceive you/recognize you (or maybe I just have bad memory and can't memorize faces at all), I made him tie his hair but also have it a bit more messy, to change from his usual hair look (which is leaving his hair down)

Aside from that, I just added more blue to his suit by adding a few things, his collar (which is the best part of his discowing suit!!!!!!! aside from the colors!!!!), and gave him back his gauntles which I can't draw so they look strange! That, and I gave him a belt with small.bags??? things??? (HOW ARE THEY CALLED IN ENGLISH) where he keeps some stuff he needs like smoke bombs etc etc, they're not filled with those trinkets and are very light so they won't bother him when he does his flips, and it's tied very well so it won't fall off (it happened). so now he can store things on his belt and on his gauntlets instead of his sticks that I forgot how they're called in english

and now...... The Child (aka Devil incarnate)

Following the same theme of looking approaching and good and blahblah but even more. I made his hair curlier because unlike Older Dick who actually tries to brush it and fails miserably, when he was younger he didn't care and climbed every single furniture in the Manor whenever Alfred tried to force him to brush it, inspired by the fact I used to hate to brush my hair as a kid

He also has those dark marks because of the insuline resistance, and I gave him knee pads (?) because there's no way Bruce would let him out like that with only That costume as protection. Overall I didn't change a lot from the canon design?

He's also short, because why not. It makes it funnier to think about being a criminal and a literal 8 year old who barely reaches a bit above ur hip beats your ass. i wouldn't show my face ever again .

I also hc that he Put the fear of god into the rogues gallery (i dont remember how theyre called as a group in english im gonna cry). while Jason did that with the gotham criminals(not rogues, but others, he was cute and all but also very VICIOUS against them, especially those who messed with kids . robin gave him the magic but the magic to break their collarbones, but this isnt about him), Dick was very very VERY annoying to them. the Joker hates him because Dick loudly says how the Joker sucks as a clown and has an obnoxiously long list of every single way the Joker fails as a clown. The Riddler hates him. Penguin hates him. Everyone hates him. They hear a kid laugh and are like '😨 ROBIN' even though Robin is now an adult man. he gave them ptsd. u know that creepy kid laugh? thats exactly how dick laughed to creep them out. it also creeped out the gotham criminals but Dick was specially mean to the gotham rogues . imagine being one of them and after going through the nightmare that is meeting an 8 year old (truly traumatizing) that later kicked ur ass, is hearing robin get sleepy and having to go home because he has a bedtime. a kid with a bedtime beat you. a kid who has to go to school and has to learn how to count to 1000 beat you. I would cry

A small thing I like to think even if it's not included is that in one of his pockets he keeps candies !! both for him and for kids he saves with batman. Batman checks he's not eating all of them because what's worse than an angry and hyperactive eight year old is an angry and hyperactive eight year old mid-sugar rush. no one recovered after that night.

That's all !!!! THANK U FOR READING MY RAMBLES!!!!! kisses u in the cheek /p

[whohasthecards]

Work and Distractions (Ch 2)

Ch1 (Diners and Late Nights)/Ch 2

“You called me in, Admiral?” Seresin said, standing at attention in front of his desk.

“At ease, Lieutenant, you’re not in trouble,” Cyclone said watching the kid, moving the papers he was looking at to the side.

“Didn’t think I was, sir,” Hangman drawled.

Cocky brat.

Despite that, the sharp line on his shoulders softened.

“Due to scheduling conflicts, the earliest we can deploy you is a month from now,” he said, watching the younger man who gave no indication whether or not he was disappointed. “However, your instructors say that you’re eager to work, much more so than whatever your paperwork implies. Additionally, it seems like you have aspirations to move up the ranks.”

“I like having something to do, sir, being higher in the ranks allows that and prohibits that at the same time,” Hangman said evenly. “I love flying, sir, but I understand that I can not do that all the time, might as well do something else between that.”

Smart kid.

“Well, Top Gun is empty right now. Only you remain in the barracks. Everyone else is preparing for the next batch of Top Gun graduates, maintenance, and catching up on administrative tasks. Might as well make yourself useful,” Cyclone said, handing Hangman a folder. “The mechanics are doing maintenance on the jets, you know your jet based on the manual, but you’ve never delved deep inside of it, have you?”

“Not more than what was required of me, sir, the Navy wanted the mechanics to focus on that,” Seresin replied, opening the folder with details on what he would be doing for the day.

“Well, back in my day, pilots and backseaters were more involved in hands-on, plane maintenance. Are you going to let us old timers be better than you at that?” Cyclone drawled out, staring at Hangman in the eye.

Seresin’s brow furrowed before he snapped the folder shut and straightened up, “Back in your day you were flying what would be now considered a fossil, sir,” Hangman said smirking. “I’ll go report to the hangar.”

“Good man,” Cyclone said, the corner of his lip twitching when he noticed Seresin leaving the room with a little more bounce on his step.

—

“How did he do? Any trouble?” Cyclone asked, approaching Warrant Officer Walker who was watching the mechanics and Seresin from afar who seemed to be delving in underneath the jet.

Walker snorted, giving a small smile as he rubbed his chin, “Eh, he’s just like the other kids in these parts.”

“Oh?”

“Young, confident, full of shit, but a good kid, this one works hard,” Walker said, smiling at Cyclone. “I heard this one was the last winner of Top Gun, I gotta say I was a bit worried. I know those kids talk a lot of shit, but damn, did I almost think you assigned him to me as punishment.”

“Not like you to judge a man before meeting him,” Cyclone said, crossing his arms, brows furrowed.

Walker shrugged, “The rumor mill is a bit more crazier these days, or that kid just special. Plus, heard some of the comments he said to his classmates, well, the kid has a mouth on ‘im.”

That’s saying something considering they were all in the military.

“He still got that mouth, but it ain’t anythin’ bad, just the usual young men talking shit and making fun with one another. Nothing close to what little I heard from ‘im before,” Walker said.

He mostly supervised the cohort from afar, and the few times he was directly involved, was a few minutes, with the men all in their best behavior. However, he did read the reports, but reports are for report keeping, not for a reflection of real life.

“I see,” Cyclone said, frowning and crossing his arms.

He watched as Seresin crawled out from under the jet, arms of his flight suit tied at the waist, and white shirt covered in grease. He stood up and looked like he was pouting when he looked down at his grease covered hands. Hangman finally noticed Cyclone when he looked up, grinning and giving the Admiral a two-fingered salute.

Cyclone felt Walker’s eyes in the side of his head as Cyclone nodded at the boy to go help out the other mechanics.

“You like the kid, don’t ya?” Walker mused, before Cyclone could reply the other man clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “Bring ‘im around whenever, I’ll look after ‘im.”

Cyclone patted Walker’s shoulder in response.

—

“Is it true that you got engine oil dunked in your hair when you were an ensign?” Hangman blurted out.

Cyclone slowly raised his head from the paper Seresin gave him to look at Seresin with a raised brow. It was a week after Hangman started working with the mechanics, and if he wasn’t doing that, he was studying the documents used at Top Gun with him at the office. He was helping him sort through survey data, and the report Seresin produced was much more impressive than he expected.

Seresin simply stared back, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“Where in the rumor mill did you find that?” Cyclone drawled.

“Warrant Officer Walker, Admiral,” Hangman said dutifully.

The vein in Cyclone’s forehead twitched, he should have figured that sooner.

Goddammit Lucas.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, Lieutenant Seresin,” Cyclone said looking back down at the paper.

“That’s why I’m confirming the facts with you, sir,” Hangman said, lips pressed tightly together to prevent it from twitching upwards.

“I can neither confirm nor deny those allegations,” Cyclone said drily, flipping the paper to the next page.

However, he couldn’t help but smile when he heard the hold back a snort, grinning brightly at him.

—

“-- You should hear about the time Simpson here wrote 10 pages of bullshit tryin’ to justify flyin’ in shitty weather for ‘practice’--”

“It worked didn’t it?” Cyclone said glaring at Walker who simply smiled at him in response.

“You grouch at all of the young’ins bein’ little shits, but you weren’t much different weren’t ya, Admiral?”

“And you grouch at your mechanics being lazy, but at least they haven’t been caught sleeping on top of a jet–”

“Hey, it was durin’ my lunch break! You know, the time we suppos’ to be relaxin’ ‘stead of doing all that dumb paperwork!” Walker said lightly bumping Cyclone’s shoulder laughing.

Seresin looked past one of the turbines of the jet he was working on and leaned over to Ben, an aircraft mechanic around his age. “They always like this?”

Ben snorted as he pulled at one of the wires, “I’ve only been here a few months, but the others say they’ve been at it for years. They tight, man.”

“Huh,” Hangman said curiously as he watched an Admiral get his hands dirty helping Walker with something with the engine.

“Anyways, come bring that ratchet and bring your ass down here, I’m gonna show you something–”

—

“Come on boys and gal! Your favourite Air Boss ‘ere buyin’ a round o’ drinks. Even Almighty Admirals lose bets from time to time, yeah?” Walker said grinning as he hooked an arm around Cyclone’s shoulder as he was walking towards the mechanics still working on planes.

Hangman has never seen the Admiral look so dishevelled, with grease all over his clothes, and an annoyed scowl on his face. He looked at Ben who simply shrugged at him in response, also unsure about what was happening.

“I’m going to make you buy us all a round once we get there, Lucas,” Simpson hissed as he pushed the other man away as Walker simply laughed in response.

“Maybe you’ll be buyin’ ‘nother round once we get there,” Walker said grinning.

“If it’s pool, the Admiral got you beat 4 times out of 5, Chief,” One of the older mechanics chipped in.

“20 push ups for that, sergeant,” Walker said, wagging a finger at him.

—

“What. The. Fuck.” Hangman said jaw dropping as Cyclone ran the table clean in a few minutes. The last shot brought the last two balls in their pocket at the same time.

Cyclone smirked at Walker, “Next round on you. Unless, best of 3 to make you feel better?”

Walker rolled his eyes, “Nah, don’t wanna ruin the good mood, prick, okay boys! Next round on me!”

Ben nudged Hangman’s on the shoulder, “I’m gonna get a beer, want another one?”

Hangman shook his head, “Nah, it feels like a Sprite kind of night.”

Ben snorted, “You get free drinks and you’re ordering one of the cheapest drinks on the menu.”

Hangman flashed a charming smile, “I’m a charitable man.”

Ben rolled his eyes before heading towards the bar.

Hangman took a sip of the beer he had.

“Enjoying yourself, Seresin?” Cyclone said approaching him, still holding the cue stick.

“It was a great show, sir, very impressive,” Hangman said, tipping his drink at him.

Cyclone smiled, “You play pool?”

Hangman shook his head, “Not really, Jav- Lieutenant Machado started teachin’ me when we first got here, but I barely get a straight shot in.”

“Want to play a round? Teach you a couple of things?” Cyclone asked, tilting his head towards the table.

Seresin took another sip of his beer, his feet shuffling a bit. Eyes darting towards his other coworkers before looking at the pool table. The bar was pretty crowded–

“Maybe next time, sir,” Hangman said. “Give me some time to practice, so at least I gotta chance against ya,” Seresin continued, giving his signature smirk.

Cyclone’s eyes softened, “I’ll hold you to that, Lieutenant,” he said patting his shoulder. “Go have fun with people your age, shoo.”

Hangman rolled his eyes, “Aye, aye.”

—

Cyclone set a cup of coffee and a paper bag on Hangman’s desk, making the younger man look up from his computer to narrow his eyes at the Admiral.

“Coffee and an apple pastry I got from out of base,” Cyclone said nonchalantly.

Hangman scowled, “What data am I gonna analyze this time?”

Cyclone smirked, “You’ll like this one, it’s survey data among the perspectives of both active, reserved, and retired naval aviators.” He watched as Hangman’s eyes briefly lit up as he handed the packet to him.

“I mean, I suppose this may not be as interestin’ as Chief Walker’s activities,” Hangman drawled. “But I guess I’ll make some time for this.”

Cyclone snorted, reaching out and ruffling the boy’s hair as he headed out, “Make sure to eat before you start!” He called out, ignoring the boy’s squawk of protest.

—

“--It may be beneficial to conduct focus group discussions or 1-1 interviews to get a more in depth analysis of the survey data, Admiral,” Hangman reported, as Cyclone skimmed through the file he was just given.

“Excellent point Lieutenant, are you interested in participating in said interviews?” Cyclone asked.

“As an interviewee? Yes, as an interviewer? Nah, I prefer being in the air rather than stuck behind a desk, sir, reading the perspectives is interestin’, don’t get me wrong, but not my main thing,” Hangman said, shrugging before slumping down on the chair in front of Beau’s desk.

Cyclone smiled at him.

“Good work, Lieutenant, I’ll go through it all tomorrow, and send it out to other sections for analysis.”

“Of course, sir,” Hangman said, giving a small smile. “Just,” Hangman paused and bit his lip, “Maybe get a couple of others to proofread it just in case, yeah?”

Cyclone’s eyes softened, “Of course, kid, but I’m sure they won’t find much wrong with it.”

Hangman turned away, a light blush rising up his neck.

“Anyways, are you free tonight?” Cyclone asked.

Hangman looked at him curiously, “Yes-?”

“Want to play pool?” Cyclone asked, watching Hangman’s conflicted expression. “I know a pool hall nearby, it’s not as crowded as the Hard Deck. I told you I was going to teach you a few things,” Cyclone mused before stopping. “It’s not an order, Seresin, just an open offer,” Cyclone said.

“I-sure, where is it?” Seresin asked.

Cyclone smiled and gave him the address and time.

“Don’t wear your uniform.”

—

“Uhhh, so I don’t exactly know all the rules.”

“Well, there are the base rules, and then some house rules, which can make a game of 8-ball slightly different–”

“Sounds complicated.”

“You fly jets for a living, you’ll be fine, kid. As long as you can tell whether the ball is solid or stripes, you’ll be alright.”

—

“Keep your elbow steady, don’t move upwards, until after the whole shot is done,” Beau said coaching from the side, watching the blond stare at the cue ball in concentration.

Seresin slid the cue forward, the cue slipping sideways on the bridge hand, barely hitting the cue ball making it spin sadly to the side, 6 inches from where it started.

Seresin groaned as he straightened up and pouted. Beau took pity on him and took the cue ball, placing it where it was before.

“Come on, kid, you can do it, chalk the tip and try again,” Beau said, handing him the chalk.

Hangman took a deep breath and readied himself again. His form was still tense, trying to get used to his footing. He hit the cue ball straight into the solid ball, making the shot. Hangman straightened up and gave a cheer.

He looked so young.

“Good job,” Beau said, smiling. “Now what’s your next shot?”

[snowbaamgyu]

Friends don't understand me anymore

This one is a request from @flashymoa , check that blog too ;)

Also sorry this took too long, it's finally here, enjoy!

Their schedule was packed, like, really packed, that was for sure, and they all were tired, no one had the right to complain, they were following that lifestyle since their debut days, if it wasn't dance practice for a comeback it was for a special stage, or even just to make sure they all mantain the same stamina; then, vocal practice or maybe some individual schedules, submitting lyrics, photoshoots, interviews, etc.

Taehyun didn't notice at first, he brushed away some symptoms like being exhausted when he was just finishing his warm up for his gym routine, or how he felt a bit grossed out by the sight of food, even his favorite dishes! It all were signs of his body telling him something was going to happen.

It was a lot and it was taking a toll on everyone but specially in Taehyun, he didn't have the time for his body to do what it wanted, but today he really wanted to stop everything and go home.

Doubled over with his hands on his knees, Taehyun panted trying to catch his breath, everyone was tired but he felt like he had done all four hours of dance practice when they were just one hour into it. Their dance instructor noticed his behavior and got a bit concerned, still asked "Taehyun-ssi, is everything okay?" just in case, Taehyun nodded before standing straight "Just tired, sorry".

The dance practice continued but Taehyun kept making mistakes, tripping over his own feet or bumping into Beomgyu who was kind enough to hide how frustrated he was getting, the rest did the same aside of Yeonjun who huffed in annoyance when Taehyun held onto him to prevent falling down face first onto the floor, the dance teacher calling for a break and Soobin leaving the room.

"Taehyun, I get that you're tired but we're all are too as well, please cooperate for us to go home quickly" the oldest one of the group said, not knowing what to say, Taehyun lowered his head and apologized, finally realizing he wasn't in conditions for that damn dance practice. "I don't think I feel well enough to continue" he said with a grimace, now feeling all the discomfort, the dancing and moving around distracted him but now all his body felt heavy and hot, probably a fever.

"Taehyun, if we all said we don't feel good then no one would be here right now, I also want to rest but work comes first, focus please" Beomgyu now was the one speaking, and Kai beside him just nodded, he thought the same thing as his hyungs.

"You're right, sorry, I'll do better" was all he said, not wanting to keep the discussion with his hyungs, then went to drink some water hoping it would calm his scratchy throat and mildly upset stomach, his hands trembling when he closed the water bottle, he felt a shiver running down all his body, his eyes were glossy and his head started hurting. Soobin entered the room and the practice resumed, when Taehyun bumped into Soobin this time he immediately bowed and apologized, scared that he also was mad at him for not giving his all and slacking off. "I'm so sorry hyung, I promise it won't happen again, sorry." Soobin noticed how Taehyun's voice cracked a bit at the end and gently grabbed his shoulder, feeling all the warmth radiating through him, the younger sweating buckets and breathing shallowly, something was happening. "It's alright Taehyun, are you feeling okay? You don't seem well" at Soobin's words Yeonjun huffed once again, "He's just being lazy, we're all tired Taehyun you're not special today" Yeonjun's words hurt, they were cold and full of annoyance, Soobin frowned but let it go, not wanting to start an argument mid practice.

They all got into their positions again but Taehyun knew he couldn't make it to the end of the song without making mistakes, not with the way his eyes were full of black dots and everything was changing colors until it started fading, still he went on, didn't stop even when he felt so lightheaded that his nose started bleeding, didn't stop when all his limbs felt so heavy he thought he wasn't in control of his own body, with that he collapsed and the music stopped, so did the boys.

Soobin was the first one to react and go check on him, the dance instructor going out to call the medical staff and one of their managers.

"Taehyun, what happened? Wake up, please!" Soobin pleaded as he put the youngers head on his lap, wiping the blood with a towel Kai handed, Beomgyu and Yeonjun stood there not knowing what to do but bolting into action when the younger started waking up but the first thing he did was choke up his lunch or well, what he managed to eat, Soobin titling his head for him to finish throwing up, Beomgyu held the trashcan for him to puke in there, coughing and retching, Taehyun didn't know what was happening.

When he was done Yeonjun took the trashcan and they all tried to give him air with those hand fans, also giving him so space so he could breath normally again, now in that position Soobin could really acknowledge that Taehyun was really sick and not just lazy how they others were thinking, he was burning up and had really dark circles under his eyes, his normally honey-colored skin was now pale, almost grayish.

"Guys, he is sick, why didn't any of you think twice before saying he was just being lazy? How could you even let this get this far?! Really? You couldn't even just try and check for a fever?" Soobin was mad, like really mad, spoke to them not only in his leader voice but also as a friend who had to point out their mistakes. No one could really reply, they knew they were wrong but now they had to focus on Taehyun, when the medical staff arrived they set him up in the couch of the practice room, Soobin never leaving his side, the other three just looked from afar.

"Looks like a mix of exhaustion and possibly a stomach flu or just the common flu, whatever it is, he needs to rest, the hospital is not necessary so just take him to the dorms, he will be fine by the end of the week if he is well rested".

The ride to the dorms was silent, no one dared to speak not only because Taehyun was asleep but also the air was so tense, Soobin was the one who carried Taehyun to his room and tucked him into bed, his face flushed, he was breathing through his mouth and his stomach was rumbling, Soobin winced in sympathy a bit at that, being sick sucks specially if it involved a sick stomach, at the end he left the room to let him sleep.

The other three knew that now they had a long lecture from Soobin, so they gathered in the living room and waited for him.

"Okay, care to explain why didn't any of you believe in Taehyun's words? He clearly told you he felt sick, am I wrong?" Soobin started, looking disappointed at them; "He did tell us that he wasn't feeling well but honestly, I think we didn't take him seriously because we also are exhausted and it wouldn't be fair if only him got to rest" Yeonjun said as he lowered his head a bit, "He's right but also, for me it was because I wanted to finish practice before letting my body be weak and agree that I couldn't make it to the end of the week, in a way I'm kinda thankful to Taehyun because now we have to be in quarantine" Beomgyu continued, they kept talking, everyone giving a reason and arguments until a door slammed shut and Kai shushed them. "Guys, Taehyun, he's throwing up again" now that they were quiet they could hear him and immediately went after him, they found Taehyun in the bathroom with his head into the toilet heaving painfully but only bringing saliva and stomach acid, the coughing just irritating more his throat, this time Beomgyu was the one who crouched by his side and patted his back, Kai prepared him a bath and Yeonjun went to change his bedsheets, Soobin went to the laundry room with Yeonjun.

"Taehyunnie, we're sorry for not believing in you, we'll take care of you so everyone can enjoy this week off okay?" said boy just nodded, not really processing what was happening, Beomgyu flushed the toilet and helped Kai to take off his clothes and let him relax into the water, massaging his scalp and helping the fever to go down, Kai went to grab a change of clothes for Taehyun and drying his hair, now Taehyun was a bit more awake and aware of his surroundings, Soobin appeared into his room with a bowl of soup and some pills with a glass of water, everyone managed to fit themselves to keep him company, even when Taehyun murmured a low "I feel nauseous..." and had to pass him the trashcan of his room, the soup ending up in there, they had to try again later but for now they could try and make him feel better, even if they had the risk of getting sick they didn't care, they had to be there for him.

Three days later Taehyun was feeling much better and had already forgiven them, also had to become the caretaker when one morning Yeonjun had to make a run to the toilet to throw up his breakfast and dinner, they knew it was their karma when the next day Kai also got sick and the day after it was Beomgyu, but eventually everything calmed down and they got another week off, hanging out at home, playing games and watching movies, whatever argument they ever had now forgotten.

[drewharrisonwriter]

Lifeline - Ch. 5: Out of the Frying Pan

Pairings: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader, referred to as “Honey” 

Series Summary: After basically being dropped and rejected by every PR agency in Hollywood for being such a huge liability, Dieter Bravo must work on resetting his public image in the most unexpected ways.

Author's Notes: I have been working on this fic on and off for the past year, and this story is a little personal to me. Yes, I am trauma dumping in some scenes lol but I also want to say that there will be so many unrealistic things about Hollywood, actors, and PR/Marketing agencies here, to which I apologize.

Warnings: Angst, a little drama, lots of flashbacks. More warnings to come as the story progresses.

Read this on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dieter spent the rest of the weekend drifting through his spacious Sherman Oaks home, a place that now felt more like a cage than a sanctuary. The house was filled with the echoes of a life he was trying—and failing—to put back together. He wandered from room to room, aimlessly flipping through scripts he couldn’t focus on and scrolling through social media feeds that only deepened his sense of isolation. The events and appearances were starting to feel like a routine, but the moments in between were unbearable. Dieter’s thoughts kept circling back to the gala, replaying every second of Honey’s smile and Phil’s hand on her back.

He tried distracting himself with old habits, but every familiar vice felt hollow. By Saturday afternoon, Dieter was staring at his phone, debating whether to call someone—anyone—to break the monotony. But he knew Mitch would hear about it, and he wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. So he settled on the one thing that still gave him some sense of purpose: art.

Dieter had always been drawn to art, sketching, and painting whenever he needed an outlet. It was something he rarely showed others, the way he kept his love of music so close to himself, it’s a space within his own space where he could express all the things he couldn’t say or sing out loud. 

When he saw a post about the weekend art class at the community center where he spent creating Mother’s Day cards with the kids a few weeks ago, he grabbed his keys without a second thought, convincing himself it was just boredom. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go, and teaching kids art sounded like a better use of his time than staring at his empty walls, waiting for the hallucinogens to kick in and change him. 

When he arrived, the room was already set up with easels, watercolor palettes, and brushes laid out neatly on the tables. The instructor, a kind-faced woman named Maria, welcomed him with a smile, thrilled to have an extra set of hands. The kids were buzzing with excitement, chattering about the different techniques they wanted to try. Dieter slipped into the familiar rhythm easily, helping mix colors and showing a few kids how to blend their washes for soft, dreamy skies.

“You’re really good at this,” Maria remarked, watching as Dieter demonstrated a simple wet-on-wet technique to a group of wide-eyed kids.

Dieter shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Thanks. I used to do this a lot… it’s been a while.”

He found himself losing track of time, immersed in the act of creating something beautiful out of nothing. The kids painted flowers, sunsets, and abstract swirls, each one pouring their imagination onto the paper. Dieter worked alongside them, his brush moving instinctively as he let the watercolor flow. Without really thinking, he began to paint a silhouette—a figure standing alone, surrounded by warm, soft colors that bled into each other like a hazy memory.

As he painted, the figure began to take shape: a woman, standing at the edge of a field, her back turned as if she were walking away. The scene was familiar, almost painfully so. Dieter’s brush moved more deliberately now, adding delicate touches of light and shadow. He painted her hair catching the sunlight, the faint outline of a red dress that bled into the sky. It was Honey, captured in the soft, dreamlike hues of his memory.

When he finished, Dieter stepped back, staring at the painting in silence. It was both the best thing he’d ever made and the most bittersweet to look at. The image of Honey standing alone, forever just out of reach, hit him like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t meant to paint her, but there she was—etched in every stroke, every wash of color, every suppressed feeling he couldn’t let go of.

He took the painting home, propping it up against the wall in his living room. Dieter stared at it for hours, unable to tear his eyes away. It felt like he was staring at all the things he’d lost, every mistake he’d made, and every moment he wished he could take back. He wanted to call Honey, to tell her what he’d made, but what was the point? She had her life, and he was stuck in the wreckage of his own.

As the hours passed, Dieter’s resolve crumbled. He ordered a few lines of coke, the old familiar sting of rebellion luring him in. He told himself it was fine—he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere anyway. He was on house arrest, in a sense, and no one would know. He washed it down with whiskey, drinking until the edges of his memories blurred and the painting became just another part of the wall.

By Sunday night, Dieter was sprawled on his couch, staring blankly at the ceiling, his mind a fog of regret and numbness. He didn’t want to think about Honey, about Phil, or about the mess he’d made of his life. He just wanted to forget, even if it was just for a little while.

–

Dieter woke to the sound of frantic whispers, a dull, persistent buzzing that cut through the fog of his hangover. He blinked against the harsh light streaming through the windows, his head pounding with the familiar aftermath of too much booze and bad decisions. Slowly, the room came into focus—the mess of empty bottles, the painting of Honey still leaning against the wall, and, standing right above him, Mitch and Honey, their faces tight with a mix of anger, fear, and something Dieter couldn’t quite place.

“What the hell, Dieter?” Mitch’s voice was sharp, laced with panic in a way Dieter hadn’t heard before. “What were you thinking?”

Dieter struggled to sit up, his vision swimming. He ran a hand over his face, trying to piece together the night before. “What are you doing here?” he mumbled, his words slurred.

Mitch’s expression darkened, his eyes flashing with a combination of anger and concern. “Your assistant called me. He found you like this, passed out with bottles everywhere. He thought you’d overdosed, Dieter! He thought you were dead!”

The words hit like a slap, jolting Dieter into a clearer awareness of the mess around him. He looked to Honey, hoping for some sign of understanding, but her face was pale, her eyes glassy with restrained emotion. She stood a step back from Mitch, her arms crossed tightly, as if trying to hold herself together. There was no judgment in her gaze, only a deep, haunting sadness.

Dieter’s stomach churned as he tried to stand, the reality of their presence sinking in. “I wasn’t—Jesus, I wasn’t trying to do anything. I just… I just had a couple of drinks.”

Mitch’s voice rose, a mix of frustration and desperation. “A couple of drinks? Look around, Dieter! It looks like you went on a bender. Do you even realize what this looks like? Do you understand how close we were to calling the damn paramedics?”

Dieter’s temper flared, his defenses kicking in. “It’s my house, Mitch. My fucking house! What do you expect me to do? I’m not allowed to go anywhere, can’t see anyone, can’t do anything. I’m stuck here like a damn prisoner, and now you’re pissed because I had a drink in my own home?”

Honey finally stepped forward, her voice soft but trembling with urgency. “Dieter, this isn’t just about the drinking. It’s about what happens when you let yourself spiral. We’ve seen this before—we’ve seen you push yourself to the edge, and every time, it gets harder to pull you back.”

Dieter looked at her, his chest tightening. The last time he’d overdosed, it had been on the set of Cliff Beasts 6, and it was Anika who’d brought him back. The memory of waking up in a haze, surrounded by horrified faces, was a wound that never fully healed. But this—this was different. This was just a weekend alone, a moment of weakness, not a full-on catastrophe. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“And how would you know about pulling me back?” he challenged, his voice dripping with bitterness. “You weren’t there!”

Her voice wavered, the vulnerability breaking through her professional facade. Honey’s eyes were wet, but she blinked back the tears, refusing to let them fall in front of him. She had watched Dieter unravel from afar, powerless to intervene, haunted by every glimpse of the man she once knew losing himself in the public eye. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion, knowing you couldn't stop it, feeling every impact from a distance.

Mitch stood there, absorbing the tension between them, and something clicked in the back of his mind. He had known Honey was deeply invested in restarting Dieter’s public image—it was why she was the best at what she did—but the way she spoke, the emotion in her voice, suggested something more. 

There was a history between them, buried beneath years of separation and, what seemingly, to him, sounds like, regrets. Mitch had always assumed Honey’s dedication was purely professional, that she does the same for each client she handles which is why came highly recommended, and maybe she does– but now, watching the two of them, he couldn’t ignore the sense that he was missing a crucial piece of their story.

He cleared his throat, his voice softer but edged with curiosity. “I didn’t know you two... I didn’t realize you’d known each other that long.” Mitch hesitated, his instincts telling him there was more to this than either of them had let on. 

Honey shot him a brief, guarded glance, her professional mask slipping back into place, but it was too late. The crack was there, and Mitch had seen it. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, unwilling to expose the depth of her past with Dieter. It wasn’t something she could explain in a room full of raw nerves and simmering resentments. It was years of connection, of love, of hurt, and everything they never resolved.

Dieter noticed Mitch’s confusion, his own expression hardening as he pushed back. “It doesn’t matter how long we’ve known each other,” Dieter said, his voice strained. “None of that matters anymore.” But the crack in his voice told another story, one of a man who couldn’t quite let go of what once was.

Dieter stared at her, anger and shame roiling inside him. He wanted to push back, to scream that he was fine, that they were overreacting, but the truth was lodged in his throat like a jagged stone. They weren’t just mad; they were terrified. Honey’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and Dieter could see the pain in every line of her face.

Mitch pressed his palms to his forehead, his voice breaking. “Do you think I want to get a call that you’re dead, Dieter? Do you think I want to be the one to have to tell the world that you’re gone because you couldn’t keep yourself together for one weekend? We’re not just fighting for your career; we’re fighting for you. And you keep throwing it in our faces.”

Dieter clenched his fists, feeling cornered, ganged up on, the walls closing in around him. “I didn’t ask for any of this! You think I’m happy here? Alone in this big-ass house with nothing but ghosts? What do you expect me to do, huh? I’m not allowed to fuck up because everyone’s waiting for me to fail. I’m just a goddamn headline waiting to happen.”

Honey stepped back, her composure finally cracking. She wiped at her eyes, her voice trembling. “Dieter, we’re not your enemies. We’re not here to control you. We just… we just don’t want to lose you. Not like this.”

Dieter’s anger peaked, his voice ragged as he lashed out. “Well, maybe you should stop trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. I didn’t ask for this intervention. I didn’t ask for any of you to play babysitter. I’m not a fucking child, and I don’t need you hovering over me, waiting for me to mess up. I can handle my own damn life.”

The room fell into a strained silence, the air thick with tension and hurt. Mitch shook his head, his frustration palpable but tempered by a deep, unspoken worry. He grabbed his jacket, his voice low but firm. “You’re right, Dieter. You are handling your life. But if you keep this up, there won’t be much left to handle.”

Honey lingered for a moment longer, her eyes locked on Dieter’s, filled with a sorrow that went beyond professional disappointment. She wanted to reach out, to pull him back from the edge he was so determined to stand on, but she knew she couldn’t be the one to save him. Not anymore.

“Just… please, Dieter,” Honey said softly, her voice breaking. “Take care of yourself. If not for you, then for the people who still care.”

Dieter watched them go, his heart heavy with the weight of their words. As the door closed behind Mitch and Honey, the silence returned, cold and suffocating. Dieter stared at the painting of Honey on the wall, its colors vivid and haunting, a reminder of the life he kept pushing away. He sank back onto the couch, burying his face in his hands, the reality of his choices crashing down on him.

He was alone again, trapped in a cycle of his own making, and for the first time, Dieter wasn’t sure how to break free.

Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[nina-ya]

im obsessed with the law that plays guitar 😍😍

UM so like basicslly my idra was so law is users guitar teacher but user is lowk like REALLY nervous around law bc DAMN hes hot 😭…

also js some random shit (because i play guitar and NEED to add this) bro the reader/me idk gets unmotivated easily cause burnout (😓😓) but once she gets some praise or acknowledgment thats motivation for the next MONTH bro

I LOVE READING UR FICS RAAGGHFHGGF 🫶🫶

A/N: Oh my goddddd you are making me remember the various Law as a guitar player art that ive seen and I simply don’t think I can recover from these thougts

Pairing: Guitar teacher!Law x reader CW: Nothing really, gets suggestive at the end. WC: 1313

You had dabbled with the guitar for a while on your own, trying to teach yourself through youtube videos and various apps, but it was clear that you couldn’t do it on your own and you needed some professional guidancel. The idea of having a guitar teacher had always intrigued you, but when you looked into the options available, it quickly became apparent that the established instructors came with a high price tag. That's when you discovered a newer face at the local music shop: Trafalgar Law. His rates were considerably more reasonable, given his limited reputation. It seemed like an excellent opportunity to learn without breaking the bank. You decided to sign up for weekly lessons on the spot.

The first lesson finally arrived, and as you entered the small room where your lessons were to take place, your eyes fell upon Trafalgar Law, and you felt your heartbeat quicken, and an unexplainable wave of flustered nerves washed over you. Was it stage fright, the fear of messing up, or the anticipation of embarrassing yourself in front of your new teacher? These were the excuses you tried to convince yourself with, but deep down, you knew there was something else at play. 

It wasn't just the usual nerves one might experience when meeting a new instructor. No, it was something more. Trafalgar Law was not just any teacher; he was, to put it mildly, extremely good-looking. His charming attitude and striking features made it impossible for you to deny that his presence had left you feeling more than a little flustered. You tried to focus on the task at hand, convincing yourself that it was merely a case of first-day jitters.

As you settled in for your first lesson, you couldn't help but notice the effortless way his fingers moved across the fretboard, coaxing out gorgeous melodies and tunes. You hung on to his every word, absorbing the knowledge he gave to you like a sponge. 

You desperately clung to the hope that your attraction to your guitar teacher was a temporary thing, a mere crush that would dissipate over time. After all, you were there to learn music, not to fall for your instructor. Or so you tried to tell yourself.

The weekly lessons persisted, and to your frustration, the initial infatuation with Law had not dissipated. His presence remained a constant distraction, making it challenging to concentrate on the music. Despite your internal struggles, the two of you gradually developed a small friendship, exchanging stories and getting to know each other beyond the realm of music. While the interactions were enjoyable, the persistent thoughts about Law continued to linger in the back of your mind.

On this particular day, you found yourself in the lesson room, tuning your guitar, running through different chords and riffs as a warm-up while waiting for Law to arrive. The sound of rain tapping against the windowpane outside added a calming ambiance to the room. When Law finally rushed in, apologizing for his tardiness, he swiftly peeled off his rain-soaked hoodie, revealing a sight you hadn't witnessed before. As the fabric caught on his shirt, it rode up just enough to expose an almost teasing glimpse of his well-defined abs and the faint happy trail leading down his stomach, not to mention the v-lines that subtly drew your attention. Typically obscured by his hoodies during lessons, now you were granted an unexpected visual feast, taking in not just the ink decorating his hands but also the tattoos covering his arms and the one teasingly peeking from the collar of his shirt across his chest. The eyeful you had just observed made your face flush with heat and your heart rate quicken. How were you supposed to concentrate on the music now? As Law set his sweater aside, he shot a sly look in your direction, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he seemed to catch on to your flustered state, evidently aware of the effect his unintentional exposure had on you.

Law continued the lesson, attempting to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite the obvious distraction. However, this time, you couldn't seem to get your act together. It was as though all your prior knowledge of the guitar had simply vanished, leaving you in a constant state of disarray. Frustration and fluster took hold of you as you fumbled through chords and riffs, repeatedly missing the mark. It was a struggle to concentrate, and your attempts to impress your exceptionally attractive teacher were continually ruined, leaving you feeling like a hopeless mess in his presence.

Law's perceptive nature became evident as he sensed your growing frustration. Setting aside his guitar, he rose from his seat and crossed the room to where a piano bench was located. He dragged it closer to both of you, taking a seat on it, his legs straddling each side of the bench. "Come here," he beckoned, tapping the space in front of him. Confusion flickered across your face, but you complied, rising from your seat and making your way over to the piano bench. He gestured for you to sit down, and as you did, he corrected you, "Backwards, sit so that your back is facing me."

Making the adjustment, you settled in, and as you did, you couldn't help but notice Law subtly shifting closer until your back was pressed against his chest. The proximity was closer than you'd ever expected, and as if this lesson couldn't become any more complicated, you found yourself in this incredibly intimate position, your mind racing as the lines between the professional and personal blurred further as the lesson went on.

Your thoughts were abruptly halted as Law's arms wound around you. His took control of your hands, positioning your fingers on the frets and guiding the pick into the correct grip His touch gentle yet firm, as he navigated you through the challenging passages. Yet, amidst the guidance, your focus shifted away from the music, your attention caught by his closeness and the feeling of Law's hands enveloping yours. The overwhelming feelings seemed to dominate your thoughts, distracting you from the task at hand.

Coming back to reality when Law released your hands, he encouraged you to attempt the passage once more. You followed his instructions, albeit with a slightly trembling start, but as you persisted, the notes began to flow more smoothly. A smirk slowly spread across his face, accompanied by an encouraging comment, "Good job, you're improving." The praise raised a surge of confidence within you, a genuine smile gracing your lips as you replayed the passage once again. Law's smirk grew, his words of affirmation continuing to fall from his lips.

A bold idea took root in your mind, and you decided to make a daring move. Pointing to a particular riff, you claimed that you needed help with it. You had played that riff numerous times before without issue, and Law was undoubtedly aware of this, yet, he didn't hesitate to oblige, his arms once again snaking around your body, his chest pressing firmly against your back. As his hands guided yours over the strings, his lips inched closer to your ear, his voice taking on a sultry and intimate tone. He whispered a string of phrases that transitioned from the typical encouragements like 'you've got this' and 'you're doing very well' to something far more provocative, like 'you're doing so well for me,' 'such a good, good student' and ‘you’re so lucky to have me as your teacher.’ The boundary between professionalism and personal attraction blurred even further.

The increasingly intimate moment was interrupted by the chime of an alarm, signaling the end of your lesson and the start of Law's next appointment. As you made your way home, your guitar teacher's presence continued to occupy your mind, leaving you eagerly anticipating next week's lesson.

[cecevandoren]

who. open @lunarcovestarters

option one.

where. town green, the gazebo

There were plenty of locations within the town of Lunar Cove that Cecile had claimed as a comfortable place to sit and read. The Daily Drip and the local library, just to name a few, but on a sunny day accompanied by a breeze? That practically begged Cece to bring a blanket with her to sit on the steps of the Gazebo and get lost in a few chapters.

However, today was exceptionally windy.

Like, she couldn't remember the last time her skirt whipped around her ankles in such an aggressive fashion. Not to mention her hair. It was a constant battle between being pushed to cover her eyes, or tugged behind her, as if the wind had invisible claws that intended to pull the strands from her scalp.

Originally Cece intended to ignore it. Once she was deep enough into her book, she would forget about the world around her. But that didn't happen. She was distracted. Actually, it was when she had read the same page four times and realize she hadn't retained any of the information that she was compelled to bother the person nearby. "Hello. I am so sorry for bothering but do you perhaps have a hair tie? Or a scarf? I seemed to have left the house unprepared today."

option two.

where. outside of bliss yoga

Cecile had learned a few years back that moving around did her body good, specifically stretching. She wasn't sure which one of the staff members at Verdant Vale suggested she try yoga, but she silently thanked them every time she left a class. it had taken a few months for her to work on her balance for most of the poses, but now she definitely could say she felt like she could hold her own in one of the intermediate classes.

Between the deep stretches and the calming music, it felt like one of the only places she could clear her mind and just exist. And after all the chaos surrounding the town in past months, it felt good to just focus on her breathing and nothing else.

The class ended too quickly for her liking, but she didn't linger. She rolled up the sea foam green mat she had brought with her, tucked it under her arm and said goodbye to the instructor as she followed many of the other students out of the building.

Once out of the humid studio, Cece began to walk towards where she would meet the family chauffeur to take her back home. But she paused when she saw the person in front of her drop something. She hadn't noticed if they had tripped or if it merely slipped out of their hand, but she didn't think as she began to bend down to help them. "Oh here, let me..." she began, reaching for what had fallen between them.

[good-beanswrites]

My last post made me want to spin the ballet au to suit the general cast, keeping Es as the protagonist 🩰

I don't have art for this one but I still got a bit carried away with the details LOL This definitely leans more into a sweet fix-it :3

The story would open with Es waking up in the medical room of Milgram Dance Academy, a very small and isolated school. Es is told they suffered a bad head injury during a performance, resulting in amnesia. Their instructor (Jackalope. Make this work however you wish.) tells them not to worry about it, and to focus on their dancing for now. Es feels a pressing responsibility to stay and rehearse, so they agree.

Jackalope tells them they must understudy several roles while recovering, not ready to jump into things right away. They're grateful, since they're struggling with their identity and expression without their memories.

The first student they are directed to is a shy and lanky dancer by the name of Haruka. They study under him as the role of a graceful, melancholic swan. They watch the choreography in general, and it looks nice enough. Es proceeds to spend several rehearsals with him, talking and bonding and learning he has a bit more going on than meets the eye. They try to offer help as he admits to familial issues, self esteem questions, and comments about sibling jealousy. In turn, he teaches Es to mimic some of his powerful emotions. At the end of their time together, they both perform for their class in full costume and staging. Now, Es understands each move with a deeper understanding than their initial look at the steps.

Next, they’re sent to meet the bubbly girl playing Juliet and begin the process anew. This continues to make a total of ten roles. Some of the dancers take the sessions kindly, while others are brash, secretive, or just confusing.

After rehearsing with Kotoko and learning to understand her determination and confidence, Es is sent back to Haruka, who has moved onto a new show and new role. They’re shocked to discover that their words to each dancer – always well-intentioned – had caused some issues backstage. Now, there are rivalries and changes in stage presence. While experiencing stress (that Es has inadvertently caused,) some were distracted in rehearsal and got injured. Es must take on the interpersonal issues as well as the choreography challenges.

I don’t have all the roles down and was trying to stick to well-known shows anyway, but I think I’d want Muu to be the Sugar Plum Fairy, Kazui to be Albrecht from Giselle, and Amane to be Clara. I wanted to keep them traditionally gendered to prove there are plenty of roles for men, but I can’t help but have Odette/Odile thoughts for T1 Mikoto ;-;

Like the other post, I'm equally tempted to have the dancers performing ballet adaptations of the mvs 👀 I want to see. Bee tutu. Doctor coat costume. Marching band tutu. AKAA mismatched look. The backgrounds. The music. The choreo. So many cool possibilities...

As a sweet au, it all ends with everyone better for having met one another. Es is cast in a solo performance, combining everything they've learned both emotionally and technically from the others. They feel satisfied with their sense of identity, and shine onstage ✨️✨️✨️