#I about fell asleep at my keyboard

[hzdtrees]

Aloy (once again)

[powderblueblood]

COME ON OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP

[softgrungeprophet]

every reviewer who wrote that the acer aspire 5 is a good budget laptop owes me $700

[amethystwrytes]

Of Course, Professor

Pairing: Law Professor!Lee Know x Female Reader

Genre: Smut. Romantic-ish. Basically just porn with a hint of plot tossed in so I don’t just keyboard smash sex stuff on the page and feel bad about myself. 18+.

Summary: The law professor everyone is scared of generously offers to help you with your school work.

Warnings: There is explicit language. There is explicit sex (oral, penetration, teasing, edging, cumshot). There is a Professor/Student relationship, and IRL I do think that’s super inappropriate BUT this isn’t real life and I promise everything is very consensual, there’s no like “give me sex and you’ll get an A” kinda stuff, so, it’s all very much in my own personal scope of comfort. I wouldn’t write anything I felt was yucky. If any of that rubs you the wrong way though, that’s totally fine, and this one isn’t for you which is completely okay.

A/N: So, once upon a time in my undergrad years I was determined to be a lawyer. For a solid academic year I changed my major to Paralegal Studies because I figured that would be a perfect foundation for law school (smart, right?). Except like, three months in I was miserable and hated everything about it and realized that it absolutely couldn’t be me. I ended up having a similar discussion with my academic advisor/professor - except I didn’t end up fucking them - not that professor anyway (kidding). I always wanted to write a story about that awful year, and now I have - kinda…sort of. With a twist of delicious Lee Know and forbidden love. Yum. 

“Can you stop please?” 

You look at the girl sitting next to you in class. Her name completely escapes you but her eyes are burning lasers at the pen you’ve been clicking nervously in your hands. 

“...Sorry…” 

You apologize and gently set the pen down on your desk. Professor Lee is taking his sweet time passing back the most recent term papers and you dig your nails into your palm in anticipation of your grade. 

To say you’re struggling in his Civil Procedures course is an understatement. In fact, you don’t seem to be doing well in any of the classes you’re taking this semester. The voices of your parents condescendingly telling you “Law School isn’t for everyone and that’s okay,” sound like they’re playing on repeat in an echo chamber. 

If you bomb this paper you’re out. You stayed up almost all night last night going over the pros and cons of dropping out. You went back and forth so long fighting with yourself that you fell asleep thinking about it, and when you woke up the only thing you could think of was letting the universe give you a sign. 

You had worked on your term paper for weeks, carefully piecing it together, you spent so much time in the library that you now know the TA who works at the help desk on a first name basis. So if you flunk it, there’s your magical sign.

“Ms. ___,” Professor Lee sets your paper face down on the desk - bad sign. He leans down just a tad, “Why don’t we meet in my office after class?” - even worse. 

“Yes, Professor,” you nod. You think about not even flipping the stapled monstrosity over, but curiosity gets the better of you. 

There it is, a painful 55% staring back at you in thick, blood-red marker. You spare yourself the trouble of pouring over the thinner red notes made in the margins of every page. You can’t help the tears of frustration that pool in your eyes. 

“Everyone enjoy your break and the time spent with your families, when we return we’ll begin our discussions on Summary Judgement, so please make sure you complete the reading outlined in the syllabus before we see each other again. Dismissed,” Mr. Lee nods and the ruckus of chairs against linoleum and exasperation fill the room. 

Mr. Lee’s office is four floors above the classroom, so you have a few minutes to spare - which you spend in the restroom crying, drying your eyes, then crying again. 

You’re dropping out of Law School. All that work, all that trying, all those late nights - and don’t even start on the amount of money spent on coffee and tuition and fucking textbooks and…you start sobbing again. 

“How did you do?” Seungmin asks when you emerge from the ladies room, his face immediately contorts into a painful frown at your red, puffy face, “That bad huh?” 

“I can’t really talk Seungmin,” you take a deep breath, “I’ve got to go meet Lee in his office before his next class begins.” 

“Fuck,” Seungmin frowns even more, “That man scares the shit out of me.” 

“Thanks,” you say, “That’s helpful.” 

“Sorry. We’re all heading to the Coffee House before everyone starts driving home for the break, do you want to come? After your meeting of course,” he asks. 

“Not today,” you shake your head, “but thank you for asking.” 

He gives you a sympathetic look and your shoulder a tiny squeeze.

You stand outside Professor Lees office for a few moments, gathering yourself. Professor Lee makes everyone nervous. He’s a hard instructor, emotionless sometimes, so direct it’s painful, and it doesn’t help anyone that he’s also devastatingly attractive. He’s a giant walking slab of intimidation. 

You softly knock on the door and he looks up at you from over his glasses as he types something. 

“Ah, Ms. ___, there you are. Come, sit down,” he instructs and you slide through the doorframe and slouch in an old green armchair across from his desk. 

“Just give me one second,” he says slowly as he continues typing, “alright.” 

“I’m sorry sir, for the term paper, I should have done better,” you offer up, electing to go ahead and fall on your own sword.

“There’s no need for apologies Ms. ___, a waste of time in this kind of situation. I would like to speak to you about your grades this semester though. After I graded your term paper, I reached out to some of my colleagues - some of your other professors - and they all had similar reports to give me, can we talk about that?”

You sigh, fanning out your fingers over your thighs, “Please, Professor, you mentioned a moment ago about time wasters - and I don’t want to waste anymore of your time - I’ve decided to drop out of law school.” 

The defeat you feel just saying the words out loud to someone is enough to bring tears back, but you fight them off. You will not cry in Professor Lee Minhos office. Absolutely not. 

Professor Lee purses his lips and nods, “I think that’s probably for the best.” 

Your jaw drops, “Aren’t you supposed to encourage me to do the opposite? To try harder or something?” 

“Miss ___, I fear if you tried any harder your hair might burn out from the roots,” he smiles and if you weren’t so shocked, you’d laugh at the first joke you’ve ever heard him utter. 

Before you can think of something to say, he produces a file folder from his drawers and smacks it on the table making you jump. 

“These are all the papers you’ve written for my class so far this semester. Your papers intrigue me Miss ___.” 

Intrigue? That’s a funny word to use for ‘disgusted and disappointed beyond imagination.’ 

“But you-,” you begin to point out that the highest grade he’s ever given you on a paper was a 68%. Far from intriguing. 

“But…as legal writing? They’re all absolute trash,” he tells you. “What intrigues me about them is the way you write, it’s quite good, every time I read one I feel like I’m in the room with a friend who’s trying to sort of explain law to me, the problem is you just don’t think, rationalize, or talk like a lawyer. I noticed in your transcript that your undergraduate degree was in education, and you had a 4.0 GPA. I can’t help but wonder, Miss ___, what career are you looking for?” 

“A…a lawyer,” you say in a quiet voice, staring at a knick on his desk. 

He looks skeptical as he leans back in his chair, “Why?” 

“Because…” oh fuck it all, you may as well just say it, “because my father, my mother, and my older brother are all lawyers, who went here.” 

“I see, so one could deduce that you wanted to be a lawyer because they wanted you to be one, they expected it of you?” he concludes. 

You smile comically, the truth is much more pathetic. 

“No, actually, they all told me I couldn’t do it. They told me I wasn’t smart enough, sharp enough, bold enough. I wanted to teach art to school children, but when that’s exactly what I elected to study, their comments started. I was just a private joke between the three of them, and I hated it, so I wanted to show them that I could be a lawyer.” 

“You came here to study law out of stubborn spite?” he reiterates. 

“Yes sir, I did,” you look at your lap and play with a rogue string from your sweater cuff. 

“That’s quite impressive, Miss ___, to go through all that trouble, strife, and money to do something you have no interest in just to best your family.” 

“Well when you say it like that I sound like a psycho,” you laugh timidly, trying to keep the sludge of humiliation down. 

“I don’t think you’re a psycho, I think you’re a bright woman who wanted to show her family they were wrong, but just ended up making herself miserable,” his expression is soft, almost understanding. “However, as your professor, I don’t think I could recommend continuing with law school. This is your first year, with first year level studies, and you’re struggling this much all for something you don’t even want, it will only get more difficult from here.” 

You nod, “You’re probably right sir,” you stand, “I should get to the admin office before they close for the break, I’m sorry for wasting your time,” you give him a respectful smile and grab your bag.

“Miss ___,” he motions for you to sit back down, “First of all, you’ve not wasted a single second of my time. Second, I don’t recommend dropping out right now, I think you should finish this semester at least.” 

“You just said…”

“I said I don’t think you should continue with law school, and I don’t. However, we’re past the official mid-point of the semester, the cut off to withdraw for a full refund of tuition was last week, if you go now you’ll never get that money back.” 

You plop back down in the chair, even more defeated, “I didn’t realize that,” you drag your hands down your face in frustration, “shit.”

Professor Lee chuckles, “I do have an alternative plan for you, if you’re willing to hear it and put in the work,” he offers. 

You sit up straight, “Yes, of course sir.” 

“I suggest you finish this semester, and I will help you - starting with rewriting your latest term paper. I’ll even try to assist you with some of your other courses, if you’d like. If we work diligently enough, you can finish this semester with an acceptable GPA, that keeps your academic record away from probation or academic expulsion,” he explains. 

“You would do that?” you ask in disbelief. 

“Well, of course, I am a professor after all. What sort would I be if I wasn’t willing to help my students?” 

“I don’t know what to say Professor,” you smile, “that’s too generous.” 

“It’s not a problem Miss ___. Now, let’s talk strategy, I assume you don’t plan on spending break with your family?” he guesses. 

“No sir, they’re too busy anyway, I plan on staying in my apartment off campus during the break,” you answer. 

“Splendid. This evening I have a night class to teach, but perhaps we could meet tomorrow? The library will be closed for break, but my students enjoy meeting up together at that coffee place downtown, uh, Coffee Shack or something,” he struggles. 

“The Coffee House?” you help him and try to hold back a grin.

“Yes, would you like to meet there, say, 1PM tomorrow afternoon? We can go over some of your papers together and I’ll help you with your legal writing technique,” he asks. 

“Yes, I’ll be there sir, I really can’t thank you enough, truly I appreciate this,” you tell him. 

“I look forward to it, Miss ___.” 

📖 ❤️

You adjust your backpack as you walk towards the Coffee House doors. You packed your laptop, all your text books, notes, and a few other things because you weren’t sure what Professor Lee would want to cover. The weight of it all is dragging you down and you have to hunch over a bit to balance it. 

“My goodness, here, let me get that for you Miss ___,” Professor Lee greets you at the door, he seems to have already picked a table near the front and grabs your bag with a grunt. “Did you pack your entire house?” he teases. 

“I didn’t know what you’d want me to bring, so I brought all my school things,” you laugh. 

“Well, I suppose it won’t matter that the library is closed since you brought it with you,” he chuckles and you take the seat beside him. 

“Should we start?” you open your laptop and power on. 

“I thought perhaps you’d like a beverage?”

“Oh,” you look behind you at the register, “Yes, I suppose we should caffeinate,” you smile. 

“What would you like?” He stands up and brings his wallet out. 

“Oh please sir, let me pay, it’s the least I could do for all of your help,” you beg. 

“Nonsense, as much as I love to argue Miss ___ I don’t see the point over a cup of coffee, what would you like? Are you hungry?” 

“No, I ate lunch before coming, just a latte for me, small,” you concede, “and thank you…again.” 

He smiles and departs from the table. You watch him in the line from where you sit. Seeing Professor Lee like this feels…different. In a less formal setting he’s almost approachable, and you’re starting to see things about him that you don’t in class. Like his generosity, and kindness, the man even has a sense of humor and you think of texting Seungmin about it but stop yourself. You want to keep this all a secret. You don’t want anyone knowing that you’re in such desperate need of assistance with your courses, but also you want to keep this side of Professor Lee to yourself. 

You could think of worse ways to spend your Saturday afternoon than with an attractive law professor who’s willing to help you pass your classes. You wonder if he’s aware that all his students find him so hot, or if it’s something that’s never occurred to him. He doesn’t wear a ring on any of his fingers, which tells you he isn’t married, but that doesn’t mean he’s single. You can’t imagine that he’s not seeing anyone. In class he’s usually got on some academia aesthetic looking suit on, lots of tweeds and browns - today he wears a fitted pair of jeans, and a navy sweater with a white collared button up fashioned underneath, the sleeves pushed up his forearms. His jet black hair isn’t styled like it usually is in class, and hangs long and loose around his face. He looks like such a boyfriend…

You blush and go back to focusing on your laptop. What the hell was that? He’s your professor. Which is actually kind of enticing…

You press your lips together and roll your eyes at yourself. Stop with the intrusive sexual thoughts about Professor Lee - the man is trying to save your ass, not spank it - having inappropriate daydreams, no matter how justified they may be, is unacceptable. 

“Here we go,” he comes back to the table and sets two mugs on the surface as he takes his seat again. 

“Thanks,” you smile politely, trying not to look at him. If you don’t look at him, maybe you won’t think about how cute he is and instead focus on what you ought to be: your failing grades. 

“So, let’s start with the main issue of your papers. Writing, in the legal sense, is cut and dry. It’s all about facts, findings, and nothing expressive or personal, which is where you seem to have the most trouble,” he begins and you try to absorb the information instead of noticing the way his lips look while sipping his coffee. 

This endeavor may be harder for you than just pulling your grades up. 

📖 ❤️

“I think that was a very productive first meeting,” he says optimistically as you start piling things back into your backpack. 

“I think so too,” you nod. Productive, yes - but now the real work begins and you’ll have to go home and actually re-write the damned thing. 

Professor Lee carries your backpack out the door, “Where’s your car?” 

“Oh, it’s at home, I just live a few blocks away,” you point in the general direction of your apartment. 

“You mean to tell me you carried this while walking from your house?” he holds the backpack with two hands for dramatics and you giggle. 

“It’s not that terrible, how long has it been since you were carrying books around, Professor? Surely you remember the struggle,” you tease. 

“I suppose it’s been a bit, here,” he reaches in his pocket and the SUV beside you beeps, he opens the passenger door, “I’ll drive you home so you don’t have to endure the struggle.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that sir,” you shake your head. 

“It’s fine, it’s a small college town Miss ___, I can get literally anywhere in less than five minutes, especially since the majority of students are gone this week. Let me be chivalrous for you,” he smiles and you melt a little bit. 

“Well, if you insist,” you look up at him as you slide into the passenger seat. 

“I do,” he closes the door, then places your bag in the backseat before coming around to the drivers side. 

“Are you always this difficult, Miss ___? Or are you just trying to be overly polite because I’m your professor?” he asks when you point him down the street towards your apartment. 

“Difficult, sir?” you look at him wide-eyed. 

“Mmhmm,” he nods, “You didn’t want me to buy your coffee, you nearly refused my ride home electing to carry a small library on your back while you walk,” a look of panicked concern washes over his face and he looks over at you, “This isn’t making you uncomfortable in any way is it? Being alone with me?” 

“No! No, absolutely not,” you assure him, though you wager that your thoughts about him would certainly make him uncomfortable. “I’m just so incredibly grateful for your help, and you continue to go out of your way for me. It’s just never something I…” you stop yourself. 

“Never something you what?” he presses. 

You laugh awkwardly, “It’s just not ever something I expected from you, given your reputation with the other students.” 

“Ah, yes,” he sucks his teeth, “My reputation of being an uptight jerk who doesn’t like anyone.” 

“I would never use those words sir,” you tell him. 

“You might not, but I have the internet too, I’ve seen the threads about me on social medias,” he shares. 

“You read those?” your voice raises at least three octaves. 

“Of course, I’m only human, curiosity gets the best of me from time to time.” 

“I don’t participate in those conversations,” you shake your head, “I understand that it’s only natural for students to want to know about the personalities of their upcoming professors, but the bias that occurs in those threads is absurd.” 

“I agree, though sometimes they can be helpful, to my ego at least,” he laughs. 

“How so?” you wonder, because you don’t remember seeing anything about his classes online that would feed his ego. 

“Some of my students may not like my personality, but they like looking at me,” he grins. 

“Professor Lee! That’s scandalous,” you laugh and playfully smack his shoulder. 

“What?” he laughs with you, “I’ve got to take something positive from it! 75% of those comments are atrocious, but I’m quite proud that I scored three hot peppers on the professor hotness scale.”

“Oh my God,” you cover your mouth, “I cannot believe I’m sitting in your car having this conversation,” you giggle. 

“Is this your building?” he points. 

“Yes, it is.” 

He parks on the street and you take a deep breath when he exits the car. He knows his students think he’s hot, and now he knows that you know he knows. You pat yourself on the back for indicating you’ve never participated in those threads before the conversation took a turn towards hot peppers. Though you are 100% guilty of voting for his peppers. 

He opens your door, hanging your backpack across his shoulder. 

“I’ll walk this up for you,” he offers and you swallow hard. 

“Sure,” you smile, your heart pounding out of your chest. Professor Lee Minho is about to see the inside of your apartment. You try to recall the state you left the place in. You remember doing your dishes before you left, but that’s about the only productive thing you can remember doing today. 

You unlock your door and flip the lights on. Your art supplies are everywhere, and you have a bag of laundry by the door because you plan on hitting the laundromat this evening. In trying to move it out of the way you knock it over, a pair of your underwear spilling out onto the floor right at his feet as he walks through. 

“Jesus,” you mutter, humiliated, as he looks down at you grabbing up the black lace thong and shoving it back into the bag. 

To your utter relief, he says nothing about your undergarments. He sets your backpack down and looks around.

“Can I offer you anything to eat or drink?” 

“Did you do all these?” he walks forward into the room towards the area you dry your paintings in. Canvas after canvas sits up against the wall, some completed, most unfinished. 

“Oh, yes,” you say, walking up beside him, “This semester has been really frustrating for me, and painting helps.” 

“Well, they’re beautiful, truly - you’re quite talented,” he looks down at you, “I can see why teaching art is a passion for you, you’ve certainly got quite a knack for it.” 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

“Teaching is very rewarding,” he adds, “I think that you should pursue your original dream Miss ___. You’ve clearly got a lot to offer the world,” he smiles down at you and you catch his gaze, a few quiet seconds pass as you look into his dark eyes. 

“You could just call me by my first name, ___, if you wanted,” you say softly, “and um, thank you, for complimenting my art.” 

“You’re very welcome, ___,” he responds, staring at you again. You watch his eyes flit down to your lips and your heart speeds up again. He suddenly clears his throat and looks back at the paintings, “I think we should make the most of the week, since classes aren’t meeting, this is a perfect time for you to catch up with your studies. Tomorrow is Sunday, which is the day I typically devote to catching up on grading, and I do have midterm grades to enter. Perhaps Monday?” he asks. 

“Monday, yeah. That works, um, I have a shift at work on Monday morning, but I’ll be free after 3PM.” 

“Perfect, we could meet at the Coffee House again, around 4:30?” 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“Great,” he begins walking back to the door, “and, um, while we’re together - working on your coursework I mean - feel free to call me Minho. However when classes resume, it’s probably best to address me as Professor Lee.” 

“Of course, Professor,” you agree. “Thank you, er…Minho…for everything today.” 

“You’re most welcome,” he opens the door then pauses, turning his head slightly in your direction, “Nice panties, by the way. See you Monday!” 

You stand there, speechless, staring at the closed door. 

📖 ❤️

Monday afternoon you can’t help but notice that Professor Lee - Minho - sits closer to you at the table in the coffee shop as he helps you study for one of your other classes. You don’t blame him, truth be told, you spent over an hour after your shift at the bookstore getting ready, hoping he’d look at you the same way he did Saturday. You are, without a doubt, down bad. To impress him even further you’ve got a surprise for him.

“I re-wrote my term paper,” you blurt as the two of you are clearing up the table after studying. 

“Already?” he looks at you. 

“I worked on it all night Saturday, and most of the day on Sunday. Do you want me to email it to you?” 

“Absolutely,” he smiles, “Good girl.” 

Fuck off, he did not just say that. You bite down on your lip and your thighs press together as you bring up your student email. You attach the file and send it to him. 

“It should be in your inbox the next time you check,” you say…like a good girl. Swoon. 

“Great, um, I was wondering - and just tell me to shut up if you want to - but I was wondering if you had plans this evening?” 

Your heart grows wings and begins to fucking fly. 

“No,” you shake your head, “I have zero plans for a Monday evening in a town that’s practically shut down.” 

He chuckles, “Right. So, would you want to join me for dinner maybe?” 

You at least pretend to mull it over instead of just shouting YES in some unflattering, desperate tone. 

“Where were you planning on eating?” you ask. 

“There’s a really nice place I like, it’s about a twenty minute drive out of town, but the food is impressive, never had a bad dish there,” he shares. 

“I am hungry,” you say, “I’d love to.” 

“Good, shall we?” 

📖 ❤️

“Are we celebrating anything special this evening?” the waiter asks as he sets two glasses of water down, “A first date? An anniversary perhaps?” 

“No.” 

Both of you answer him at the same time, and try to hold your laughter in when the poor man looks taken back. 

“Okay,” he says, “Can I get you all anything to drink from our wine or cocktail menu?” 

“I’ll have a glass of this pinot, chilled, please,” you point to the wine and the waiter writes it down. 

“I’ll have the same,” Minho smiles. 

“I’ll get those right out.” 

Minho bites his lip and stares down at the tablecloth, you frown. 

“Is everything alright?” you ask. 

“Everything’s fine,” he says, “I’m just trying to remind myself that nothing inappropriate is happening here, I’m having dinner with one of my female students, but you are an adult and so am I and it’s fine.” 

“I won’t be your student after this semester,” you point out, “I don’t know if that’s helpful or not though.” 

“It is,” he nods, then tilts his head, “yet somehow I still feel like I’m misbehaving.” 

“It’s only food, how is that misbehaving?” 

“It’s not what I’m doing,” he bites his lip again and looks up at you, “It’s what I’m thinking.” 

You take a sip of water, your body practically vibrating with curiosity, “What is it that you’re thinking, exactly?” 

“Things that I shouldn’t be thinking about my student,” he says quietly. 

“This isn’t high school, Professor, this isn’t even undergrad. Don’t be harsh on yourself, I’m sure whatever you’re thinking about isn’t a bad thing,” you point out, hoping you sound cool and collected and not like you’re ready for him to take you right on this table. 

“So if I was thinking about fucking you after class in my office, across my desk, that wouldn’t be a bad thing?” 

You nearly choke on your water. Before you can respond the waiter returns with your glasses of wine, not a moment too soon. 

“I’ll let you guys look over the menu and come back in a few minutes.” 

You clear your throat once the waiter is gone, “I think fucking me on your desk would probably be inappropriate,” you smile, “especially to your neighboring colleagues. I have quite a mouth on me,” you say, opening your menu. 

You can feel him staring at you. “I’d very much like to hear it.” 

“Maybe you will, I guess we’ll see,” you shrug. 

The smile that spreads across his face is so dangerously mischievous, your clit throbs where you sit and you shift uncomfortably, only making it worse. 

📖 ❤️

The sexual tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife as you make your way back to his car. You reach for the door handle, but he grabs your arm and spins you around, your back pushed up against the door. 

His lips crash against yours, arms caging you in which is completely fine by you. You bury your fingers in his hair on either side of his head but he pulls away. 

“I want it to be clear I have never had any kind of sexual relationship with a student, ever,” he says quickly, then his lips are against yours again. 

“I believe you,” you manage between lips and tongues. 

He pulls away again, “And the only reason I’m pursuing this is because I can’t fucking resist you and you’re not going to be my student again after this semester,” he adds, then more kissing. 

“Got it,” you mumble into his mouth. 

Again he pulls away, “Seriously, even if you don’t quit law school I can never have you in class again, okay?” 

“Yes! Fuck that place, I’m done, and even if I wasn’t - I wouldn’t take you again, you’re an uptight jerk of a professor, remember?” you tease him, then desperately pull him back onto your lips. 

He shoves you harder against the car, his knee coming between your legs and you press yourself down on his thigh. You moan softly into his mouth and his hand smacks the side of the car. 

“Get in, fuck, please get in the fucking car.” 

He scrambles around to the drivers side as you jump in. 

“Your place or mine?” he asks, turning the ignition. 

“Which is closer?” you ask, pulling the seat belt so hard and quick that it locks up. 

“Uh…mine… mine I think.” 

“Then there’s your answer,” you tell him. 

Five minutes of him burning rubber down the highway is too long for you not to be touching him. You reach over and caress his thigh through his jeans, moving higher and higher until you find what you’re looking for in the darkness. 

He hisses as you stroke and massage his hard length through the fabric. 

You unbuckle your seat belt, “Are you as good a driver as you are a professor?” 

“I…why?”

You scoot as far as you can and lean over, undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, sliding your hand through the opening of his boxers until you feel the warm, velvety skin of his cock in your fist. 

“Oh fuck…oh my fucking…” he pants, his knuckles turning stark white around the steering wheel. 

You unbuckle his seatbelt as well and help him get it out of the way before pulling his cock from the confines of his jeans. 

You stroke him a few times, then let a glob of spit drip from your lips onto him so you can continue stroking more comfortably. 

“God…” 

You take him in your mouth and suck, running your tongue over the tip. The way he’s nearly whimpering, eyes so wide on the road, delights you. You put your mouth on him again, taking him deep in your throat, taking turns stroking and licking. 

“I’m going to cum,” he whispers hoarsely after several minutes, “I don’t have anything to…” he looks around frantically but you shake your head, popping your mouth off of him momentarily. 

“I can take it,” you whisper, then suck him between your lips once more. You can feel the base of his cock twitch and brace yourself, spurts of hot cum follow seconds later and you take it all from him greedily, swallowing then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Holy shit,” he says through clenched teeth. “That was so fucking hot.” 

“Thank you,” you grin, pulling down the visor so you can fix yourself in the mirror. The “kiss proof” lipstick you wore today is evidently not “road head proof” and you clean up the edges of your mouth. 

He reaches over and grabs your hand in his, squeezing and rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb while he speeds down the road. 

📖 ❤️

The door to Minhos apartment isn’t even locked before he shoves you against it and presses his mouth to yours. 

“I want to make you feel so fucking good,” he whispers, trailing kisses down your neck. He drops to his knees and unbuttons your pants, pulling them down your legs. You kick your shoes off so he can get the pants off completely. 

He looks up at you and grins, tracing the lines of the black lace thong that toppled over at your apartment, “I was wishing very much that I’d get to see you in these,” he says, pressing his tongue against the tiny bit of cloth. 

You gasp at the way his lips move, teasing and licking through the thin lace, “Are you really going to eat me out against the door?” 

“Mmm,” he moans against your clit and your legs jerk, “Yes,” he says hooking his fingers in the strings and pulling the soaking wet cloth down your legs. 

“No patience at all Professor, I’m shocked,” you tease. 

“So… you can call me Minho,” he smiles, kissing and licking trails back up your legs, “but in class and when I’m fucking your pretty pussy feel free to use Professor.” 

“Absolutely Professor Lee,” you rest your head against the door as his tongue wiggles between your slick. “Fuck!” 

He finds your clit and wraps his lips around, gently sucking. You lay one of your thighs over his shoulder and try to steady yourself while he laps and sucks you off. You grab his hair with your fingers and move with him, fucking his face and listening to the delightful slurping, wet sounds erupting through the quiet room. 

“Oh…just like that, right there,” you whine when he begins to softly lick the perfect spot, “fuckfuckfuck…yes!” you release his hair from your fist and hold yourself against the wall as your legs begin to quake, cunt throbbing in rhythmic spasms as he milks you with his lips. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, trying to stand straight. He finally gets around to locking the door then picks you up, carrying you down a hallway. He pours you onto the bed and you watch as he strips himself of clothing, you follow suit, though half your outfit is in his foyer. 

You lay back, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him crawl over you, positioning himself between your legs. 

“You’re sure this is okay?” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours, the head of his cock leaking against your open cunt. 

“Yes, fuck, yes I want you,” you assure him, nails digging into his shoulder. He makes a gruff noise deep in his throat and lines himself up with your opening. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to push into you and he does, slow and deep. You both moan into each other at the sensation of it.  

Slowly he begins to move quicker, still deep, but urgently. The sound of skin against skin intoxicating. He sits up a bit, your hips coming with him and he grabs them, using you as an anchor to thrust into you. 

“Minho…” his name comes out as a whisper, your eyes screwed shut. “So close…” 

“No, no,” he tsks, slowing down and pulling himself out, pushing the head of his cock against your clit. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

He slides his cock against you until you start squirming beneath him, your clit still sensitive from his front door excursions. “Please? Fuck…” you whine loudly. 

“You want it?” he asks in a growl, stuffing himself inside you then pulling out again. 

“Yes! Yes! Please!” you cry, your nails scraping against the sides of his legs. 

“Are you sure baby?” he smirks, pushing into you and pulling out slowly several times. Your orgasm begins to build again and you meet his thrusts with your hips, chasing it. Until he pulls out again. 

“What are you doing?” you groan, half laughing and out of your mind. 

“Beg a little,” he urges, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock but pulling away every time you try to push against it. 

You snap your eyes open, the sight of him looking down at you makes you unhinged. “Please, Professor Lee, please let me cum,” you say it as sweetly and earnestly as you can muster. 

His eyes practically roll back in his head as he lines up with you again and pushes in deep, his hands fly back to your hips and he drags you on and off his cock until your vision goes white with the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. 

“Sit up, please,” he begs breathlessly as he pulls away, stroking himself. You do as you’re told and watch as his lips part, his hand stills and shots of pearly strings shoot across your breasts. 

“Hold on,” he says when he can move again, then disappears behind a door, emerging a few moments later with a warm damp hand towel. He kisses you deeply as he cleans his cum off your chest. 

“That was so fucking good,” you whisper, taking his face in your hands. 

“Yes,” he sighs, pulling you down beneath the blankets with him, “Yes it was.” 

He holds you close to him, your eyes getting heavier, “I think my books are still in your car. We could go over the paper on tort law I bombed over breakfast tomorrow?” 

He chuckles and nods, “It’s a date.” 

📖 ❤️

You sit in Professor Lees classroom as he passes back the latest exam. Term is almost over and everyone seems to be reeling with nerves around you. 

He slows beside your desk and lays your test down, “Much better, Miss ___, much better.” 

Seungmin looks over at your test, “Hey! Not bad,” he smiles cheerfully. 

“I’ve had a lot of help this semester,” you smile.

At the bottom of the last page you read the note of thin red ink,

See you at my place tonight?

The End

Endnote:

I am in my Lee Know slut era. I will not be taking questions about my worship of him at this time, thank you. As always, if you made it far enough to read this, please accept my virtual smooch.

Also as always this is unbeta’d bc that’s typically how I roll so it could be absolute trash but that’s okay bc we’re just having fun.

[katsu28]

home is wherever you are

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: secretly falling in love with your best friend is tough. secretly falling in love with your best friend who also happens to be your roommate is even less than ideal. the solution? move out! (hint: it isn’t a very good one.) (5k)

warnings: angst with a happy ending, a smidge of google translated french lol

a/n: CHARLES LECLERC!!! CHARLES LECLERC!!!!LECLERC!!! LECLERAUGHCOUGHCOUGH

“I still cannot believe you’re abandoning me.” 

Charles shoved another box of your things into the boot of your car rather huffily, as if to reiterate just how unhappy he was. 

“I’m not abandoning you, I’m moving out of your apartment.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully at him. You passed him the last box off the ground, wiping your hands off on your shorts before propping them on your hips. 

“That is quite literally the same thing.” He mirrored your stance in total seriousness, frown unwavering. “And it’s not my apartment, it’s yours now too. Your home.” 

You’d been living with Charles for a while now, having been suddenly evicted from your own place three, almost four years ago. With nowhere else to go, you’d turned to your best friend, and Charles had welcomed you with open arms, giving you a home when you’d needed it most. 

There were many good things about living with Charles—he liked to cook (which boded well with you, seeing as you were no master chef yourself. Except for when he’d gone through a questionable phase of combining cuisines that did not go well together.), he was respectful of set boundaries and agreed upon rules. You had the same taste in shows and movies, which made for little fighting when it came to deciding on what to watch. 

But most notably, he loved to play the piano. It was a hobby he’d picked up during long days spent staying at home, and he was good at it too. An electronic keyboard when he’d first started out, just to see if it was something he was serious about, but as he zoomed through the basics with ease, he’d splurged on a gorgeous white piano that stood proudly in the living room. 

Soon enough, it wasn’t unusual for the apartment to be full of music, beautiful songs of Charles’ own composing. 

He played whenever he had the feeling. Whenever he had something on his mind, whenever he was bored, anything, he’d spend hours at the piano, playing, playing, playing. Some might’ve called it annoying, but not you. You found it rather soothing. 

It had very quickly become a habit of yours to fall asleep listening to Charles play. Something about it seemed to always relax you just enough to the point where you could pretty much fall asleep anywhere if he was at the bench. 

Your favorite spot was on the sofa with a big blanket, watching him get lost in the notes until you drifted off. More often than not, you could rarely get a good night’s sleep without Charles’ accompaniment—your very own version of white noise. 

But truth be told, this past year of living together with Charles had been trickier than the first couple. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things began to change, but something had definitely shifted between you. 

You’d been trying to write it off just the two of you being very close, but you’d been dancing on the line of close friends and more than friends for a long time. Falling asleep together cuddled on the sofa, lingering touches whilst you were in the same room and in passing, hugs that lasted a little too long to be considered normal. 

The more your feelings for Charles grew, the more worried you became. Worried about what, you weren’t exactly sure. All you knew was you didn’t want to lose the longest and best friendship you’d ever had because you went and fell in love.

“I know. But I think it’s well past time I get out of your hair and try being on my own for once.” You said softly, stepping in to fold yourself into Charles’ arms. 

Most of that was true. You did feel like you needed to live by yourself for a chance, to see what it was like to be fully independent in your adult life. You’d moved in with Charles when you were twenty two, and you were twenty five now. It was time for you to venture out on your own. 

But the uncertainty of falling in love with your best friend was definitely also a contributing factor. 

He made a displeased sound at your words, but tucked you under his chin nonetheless. “I don’t want you to get out of my hair. My hair likes it with you here.” 

“I live fifteen minutes away, Cha. I’m not moving across the country. You and your hair can come over anytime.” You scoffed, giving him a gentle poke in the ribs. “And I’ll come over here all the time too, you know that.” 

“Fine, fine. I don’t know what I am supposed to do with your empty room now, but I’ll figure it out. Maybe I will take up scrapbooking. Knitting. Needlepoint, maybe. Turn it into a craft room.” 

“Maybe you can turn it into a music room. Move the keyboard in there, your piano.” 

“Ah, bien entendu, my piano. How will you ever fall asleep without my sweet, sweet melodies?” 

“I think I will manage just fine.” You chuckled. 

Charles held you at arms’ length, dark brows furrowing as he scowled. “What I’m hearing is you don’t love me anymore.” 

Oh, if only he knew. 

You smiled instead, patting his cheek good-naturedly. “Come on, you drama queen. I want to move in before the sun goes down.” 

Charles went full protection mode the second all your belongings had made it safely inside the apartment, intently checking every lock, window, door hinge, cabinet—not an inch of the apartment went uninspected by him. When he seemed fairly satisfied with his safety checks, he returned to where you were unpacking kitchen items over by the oven.

“Everything up to your standards?” You asked, pulling out a stack of plates wrapped in brown paper. Charles shuffled over, easing them out of your hands and unwrapping them to help put them up in the cabinet. “No one is going to break in through my window tonight?”

“Don’t even joke about that.” He grumbled, chucking the balled up paper at you gently. “Everything I checked is fine. You will be safe here.” 

Food was simple when it came time for dinner—takeout on the floor of your living room, because you hadn’t had the time to go shopping for a coffee table yet. Or a dining room table. Or even chairs, really. All you had were some pillows and an overturned cardboard box to put the food on. 

Charles had insisted on helping you furnish the whole place before you moved in but you’d declined, saying that you wanted to get a feel for the place before filling it with everything. The last time it would be this empty would be the day you moved out. 

He seemed a little quiet the rest of the night, but you didn’t press it until after dinner, whilst he was helping you with the washing up. Well, helping was a strong word. 

“You’ve been drying that plate for ages now.” You observed, tilting your head at him thoughtfully. Charles inhaled sharply, shaking his head like he’d been snapped out of a stupor. He glanced down at the completely dry plate, then back up at you blankly. “What’re you thinking about?” 

“You’re really going to be gone.”

“You say that like I told you I’ve only got days to live. I won’t be gone, Cha. I’ll be around.” You chuckled, flicking dish soap bubbles in his direction. Charles responded by flinging his towel at you, cracking a smile. You liked it when he smiled, hated it when he frowned. He was still unfairly attractive, but it wasn’t Charles’ scowl that made you fall in love with him. 

“We can spend the day together anytime, you can come over whenever you want, and if it makes you feel any better, I will give you your very own key.” 

That seemed to put him a little more in higher spirits. 

 “What will you ever do without me?” He wondered out loud, feigning a thoughtful expression. 

“Probably clean up a lot less. Be able to take a shower without running out of hot water halfway through. Oh! Have a bottle of shampoo last more than a month because someone—not naming names, of course, won’t use it because they’ve run out of theirs. Not have to fight for—” 

“Alright, alright, I get it!” Charles huffed, grabbing you by the shoulders and promptly shoving your face into his chest to stop you from talking. 

You grinned against the softness of his hoodie. “Shall I go on?” 

“No, no you shouldn’t.” His hold on you loosened, but you stayed right where you were, wrapping your arms around his torso. “Just admit it. You’ll miss me.” 

“I will miss you.” You said softly, pressing your cheek into the crook of his neck. If there was something Charles was unbelievably good at (besides literally anything he’d ever tried), it was giving the best hugs. Something about them made you feel safe, like nothing and nobody could ever hurt you as long as you were in his arms. 

“You already know how much I’m going to miss having you around.” 

“Yeah, I am pretty great.” 

A laugh rumbled through his chest. “You are.” 

“You’ve been the best roommate I could’ve asked for. Thank you for everything.” Your words were muffled between the two of you, and you were glad for it, because he didn’t seem to notice the waver in your tone. But he did squeeze you a little tighter, so maybe he did hear you. “I love you, Cha.” 

Charles’ voice seemed to waver just a bit too. “I love you too.” 

“Okay, okay, you really need to leave. Go before I change my mind and make you stay.” You blurted, pushing him away playfully. It was better than letting him see you get emotional. 

“Is that a promise?” 

“No, it’s a threat. Go home. I will see you soon.” You gave his hand one last squeeze, nodding reassuringly to rid him of the crease between his brows. “Don’t worry about me. Go, get some rest.” 

It was only then that he seemed satisfied enough to leave, but even then, he cast another backwards glance towards you on his way down the hall, as if he was waiting for you to beckon him back. You just smiled as best you could.��

You’d get over it. You had to. There was still a lot you needed to get done before you called it a night. 

It wasn’t until you were getting ready to go to bed that you started to feel lonely. You and Charles had your respective bedtime routines, but they always intertwined. 

You never liked being the one to turn off all the lights in the apartment because the switch was at the end of the hallway opposite from your bedrooms, so he knew to do it because you hated running back through the darkness after flipping the switch. 

He always filled a glass with water for late night sipping, but never remembered to actually bring it to his room until he was already in bed, so you always grabbed it for him so he wouldn’t have to make the trek back out the kitchen.  

The bathroom counter was where you’d find each other the most, terrible jokes and funny stories told muffled through toothpaste bubbles, even though you could’ve just waited until you were finished to tell each other. You’d flick water at him as you washed your face because he took up too much space at the sink, he’d turn off the tap in retaliation, things like that. 

Sometimes Charles would stay up later playing video games with his friends, or take some extra time to practice piano, so you wouldn’t get to do your well oiled machine routine, but he’d always take the extra second to pop into your room to say goodnight when he heard you bustling around, even if he was in the middle of something. 

The times you fell asleep on the sofa to Charles’ playing the piano, he’d camp out at the other end of the sofa for the night, or at the very least made sure you were covered with a blanket if he went to sleep in his own room. 

It was something you’d grown accustomed to over the years, oftentimes the well-needed end to a not so great day. Charles never failed to put a smile on your face, even with something as small and mundane as a bedtime routine. 

But there was none of that as you ran through your routine this time. 

You didn’t hear him shuffling around over in the other room, the muffled sounds of his shouts as he played his games, and most of all, you didn’t hear him and his piano. 

Because there was no Charles. Of course there wasn’t. You were in this new place that you hadn’t had quite nearly enough of a chance to get used to yet, alone, and it was finally settling in. 

Suddenly moving out and away from him seemed like the worst decision in the world. 

You knew it was only the first night. You had to give yourself a chance to reacclimate, and that would take time. So you inhaled a deep breath, trying to get as comfy as you could for a long, probably sleepless night ahead. 

It was nearing four in the morning when you finally decided to give up and call Charles. Part of you thought he might not even pick up the phone, because he was probably asleep. Any sane person would be sleeping right now. 

Much to your surprise, he answered on the second ring. 

“Why are you awake?” You asked, maybe a bit harshly. 

“Um, you are the one who called me? Why are you awake?” He replied, groggy voice still teasing. His accent always grew thicker when he was sleepy. You thought it was adorable. “You cannot sleep, can you?” 

“...No.” Your voice grew smaller. You felt embarrassed at the fact that you couldn’t even make it one full night without Charles around. “I just…I wanted to hear your voice, I guess. I miss you already, Cha.” 

Charles fell silent for a few moments, the only sound on his side of the line being his gentle exhales. “I miss you too. Do you want me to come over? I can stay the night, if you want.” 

“No. No, you don’t need to do that.” You said softly. “Can you just talk to me?” 

This was also something that had become somewhat of a ritual when either of you couldn’t sleep. 

You’d tiptoe into each other’s rooms quiet as a mouse, slipping into bed beside the other. Charles always stirred when he felt the bed dip under your weight, half asleep but still reaching out to pull you against his chest like it was second nature. On the occasions when he came into your room, you’d feel him tuck himself close to you, nosing against any part of you he could find with a content sigh. 

There was no rhyme or reason to the things you’d talk about in those moments, but eventually, somehow, you’d both end up asleep, usually fairly quickly. Maybe it was the extra added comfort of each other that helped, you could never tell. 

It wasn’t unusual to wake up a jumble of limbs tangled together, and neither of you ever addressed it either. Just went on with your business as usual, never talking about it because it was just something you did. To help each other sleep, of course. 

Another thing that really blurred the line between friends and more. 

Charles hummed a noncommittal sound, soft and fond like he always was around you. “I’ll do you one better. How about I play some music for you?” 

“Yes, please. Thank you.” You sighed, relieved. He knew what you needed without you even having to ask. 

You heard him get up, footsteps padding along until there was a thud and some shuffling coming from Charles’ side. A few warm up scales in and you were already feeling a little less anxious, letting yourself get comfortable. 

“Any requests from the audience?” 

“Been working on anything new?” You yawned, nuzzling a little deeper back into your pillow. 

“I have, actually. It’s still—fuck, how do you say it…a work in progress?”

“Anything you play is perfect.”

“You flatter me.” He snorted. “Alright, here goes nothing.”  

He began to play. You knew jack shit about music, so there wasn’t much you could think of to describe how it sounded, but you could describe how it felt. You could almost feel the emotion pouring from his playing, even through the scratchy quality of the speaker. 

It felt like something you’d hear in the background of a movie montage, lilting and delicate and warm notes swirling together to create a bright melody, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. 

Memories of good times with Charles flashed through your head—all the long days and even longer nights you’d spent together because you thrived in each other’s company, cooking together, binging Netflix shows until you both passed out on the sofa. 

Hushed laughing during dinners at fancy restaurants that Charles could get into by flashing his name, soft conversations accompanied with expensive food and even more expensive wine. 

Day trips up the coast with the top down on the car, pushing the speed limit just to feel an ounce of the freedom that it could give you. Walking through Monte Carlo on late night gelato runs, switching flavors because you both enjoyed each other’s choice more than your own. 

Most of all, you thought of the love you felt for Charles, ever since you’d first met him. You’d never been one to believe in the concept of soulmates, but fuck, it was so easy to think of him as yours. Never had you felt as much for someone as you did for him. 

God, why were you even thinking of those things? 

It would never happen. Any love that Charles had for you would be strictly platonic, limited to however much one could love their best friend. 

Surely he’d drawn inspiration from something else when he’d composed the beautiful piece. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know. 

Soon enough, you’d drifted off like you always did when Charles played, coincidentally right before he came to a lingering stop. 

Had you been awake, you would’ve heard him say that the beautiful piece had been inspired by you. Instead you were fast asleep, still none the wiser to anything. Maybe it was a good thing. You might not have believed it if you’d heard him. 

-------

Charles was on your doorstep first thing in the morning, coffee and pastries in hand when you opened the door for him. 

“Hello, good morning, your savior is here. And with breakfast!” He chirped, coming to just enough of a halt for you to slide an arm around his shoulders in a hug and grab one of the drinks out of the tray before he swept past you.

Bright morning sunlight poured into the open area, washing the whole place aglow. A warm breeze floated in through the ajar window, rattling the shutters only slightly, and you could hear the all too familiar sounds of the city in the morning coming from the streets below. It was a gorgeous picture of peace; one of the apartment’s many fun quirks that convinced you to go for it in the first place. 

The only thing that might’ve rivaled the beauty of the moment was Charles standing at the window, leaning against the sill drinking his coffee while the breeze ruffled his hair. His back was to you as he checked out the view, but even the mere image of him here was nice. 

You sipped your own coffee, smiling to yourself when you realized Charles remembered exactly how you took it. You didn’t even need to look inside the bag to know they were your favorite pastries from the bakery down the street from your former apartment that both you and Charles loved. He was always thoughtful like that. Things like remembering your favorite foods and drinks, and going out of his way to get them as a little pick-me-up. 

It seemed wrong to ruin the moment, but you felt like you had to say something. 

“I’m sorry for waking you up last night.” You sighed, taking a cross-legged seat on a pillow. 

Charles turned away from the window, shaking his head quickly. He took a seat on the floor next to you, long legs stretching out towards your crossed ones to nudge a sneaker against your socked foot. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’m glad you called me.” 

“Right, but it’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it? First time on my own and I didn’t even last a whole night.” 

“Not pathetic.” He insisted, entirely firm in his words. He set his cup down as if it could strengthen his point. “It is a change, definitely. You can’t expect yourself to get used to such a big change immediately. It takes time, you know.” 

You messed with the lid of your cup, picking at the plastic with a scowl. “I know. But I can’t always come running to you whenever I need help. It’s not fair to you to have to keep rescuing me every time I need saving.” 

“Okay…” He trailed off, stretching out the last syllable in confusion. “I feel this is about something more than just last night. We can talk about it, if you would like?”

“I don’t know what it is.” You huffed. “I thought I was ready to be on my own, but maybe I’m not. Maybe I don’t know I’m doing and I’ll never figure it out, and—” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Where is this all coming from?” 

“I don’t know,” You repeated, bordering on a whine. “But what I do know is that I can’t always keep relying on you for everything. It’s not good for me, or for you.” 

“You know, you could always just move back home if you’re truly not ready to do things on your own.” Charles offered, taking a casual sip of his own drink.

Home. He said it so casually, like home was with him instead of this new place you’d chosen to make yours. In a way, Charles was your home. Safety, comfort, love—all the things that made something home, you felt with him. 

That was the problem. You didn’t feel right relying on him for all those things, not without him being aware of how you actually felt about him. It seemed like too much of a burden to put on a friend, even one as perfect as Charles. 

His eyes met yours over the rim and he shrugged. “I still don’t know why you were so insistent on moving out in the first place.” 

You sighed, again. There weren’t many ways you could make yourself any clearer. Other than telling Charles one of the real reasons why you had to leave, which again, was more of a last resort (hopefully not at all) type of thing. “It was time—” 

“It was time for you to venture out on your own, yes, I know. But it doesn’t seem to be working out so well right now, does it not?” The last sentence seemed to slip out of Charles’ mouth before he knew what he was saying, because his mouth snapped shut right afterward. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I don’t want to argue.” 

But what had been done was done, what had been said was out there for you to know. Your coffee suddenly left a bitter taste in your mouth, and the traffic from outside became glaringly loud. The once peaceful atmosphere had been shattered now that you knew Charles’ true thoughts on it all. 

You stood up, letting your feet take you across the room from him. “No. Tell me more, Charles. Tell me how you really feel.” 

His nose wrinkled at the use of his full name. You never called him Charles unless you were upset with him, which wasn’t that often. Even hearing it come out of your own mouth seemed foreign. 

That seemed to change his reaction, because he stood too instead, doubling down on his words. “Okay. Yes, that is how I feel about you leaving. You barely even talked to me about it, and the next thing I knew, you were packing all your things into boxes! I didn’t understand where this—this sudden desire to leave came from. I still don’t.”

“You don’t have to understand it. It’s already done.” 

“Did I—did I do something wrong?”

You almost faltered. Almost.

“Did you ever think maybe me wanting to leave had nothing to do with you?” 

“Honestly? No. It feels like it has everything to do with me. It feels like you moved out because you didn’t want to be around me anymore!” Charles exclaimed. “And I have kept my mouth shut, I’ve been trying to be supportive of your decision, but I think I have a right to know. Am I why you wanted to leave so badly?” 

“That’s…part of it.” You admitted. Charles froze, brows flying up towards his hairline. “But not because of anything you did. Not because of the reason you’re thinking of.” 

“I don’t really see any other explanation. And I am sorry, but that is a shit excuse. I would’ve thought that you of all people would tell me the truth.” He didn’t sound angry, just disappointed and a little hurt. Somehow that felt worse. You’d rather him be mad at you than hurt by you. 

“I didn’t want to move out.” You said firmly. 

“Then why did you?” 

“I had to! I—I couldn’t live there anymore.” 

“But why?” He sounded desperate, begging for you to clue him in to any reason, anything at all that would help him understand. And god, as scared as you were of changing things by telling Charles how you really felt about him, you were infinitely more scared of losing him for good if you didn’t. 

“Because I’m fucking in love with you, Charles!” You blurted, finally. “I couldn’t live with you any longer, keeping this huge secret all the time, because it truly made me feel like I was about to explode. I just couldn’t do it anymore—pretend like everything was alright when every time I looked at you, all I could think about was how I felt about you! How much I felt for you.” Your voice rose with every word, emotion lacing your tone. 

You could feel the tears burning your eyes, threatening to fall no matter how much you willed them not to. “I just thought, maybe if we lived apart, if we didn’t see each other all the time, maybe those feelings would go away.” 

Charles blinked at you slowly. He scrubbed a hand over his cheek, across his mouth, letting it disappear into the neckline of his hoodie as he continued the motion near his jaw. Still, he said nothing. You weren’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad one, but still you continued. 

“So no, it wasn’t because of anything you did. Or maybe it was, for making it so fucking easy to fall in love with you. I don’t know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t say anything to me, but I’m not sorry for making the decision on my own. It was for the best.”

There it was, out there in the open at last. It felt like a proverbial weight lifted off your shoulders, but at the same time like a thousand rocks sinking to the bottom of your stomach, because he wasn’t saying anything. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how you’d fuck up the best friendship you’d ever had. 

Charles was silent for the longest time before he replied, and when he did, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it before. It felt unnerving. “You could’ve just told me.” 

“Told you?” You had to fight the urge to let out a bitter, watery laugh. “Telling your best friend you’ve fallen in love with him isn’t just something you mention at the bathroom sink one night.” 

“It is, if he feels the same way about you.” 

A coldness crept down your neck, shooting through your veins like you’d just had a bucket of ice cold water dumped over your head. 

“No you’re not—you don't...you can't.” You whispered, disbelieving.

Charles’ brows furrowed in confusion. “What, do you want me to prove it?” 

You couldn’t give him an answer even if you wanted to. You weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to say a damn word, just in case this was all a dream and you'd wake up any second, still alone, still without him there.

He must’ve taken your silence as a yes to his question, because he crossed the room in three strides, took your face in firm hands, and he kissed you. 

Despite your utter shock, you managed to kiss him back clumsily, fingers curling into his hoodie tightly. Charles kissed you like he was afraid to let you go, like you’d slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful enough.

A guiding hand curled around the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss, but only for a few seconds before he broke away, panting. His forehead stayed pressed against yours, soulful green eyes boring into your own in total seriousness.

“Do you believe me now?” 

“Maybe.” You breathed, letting your nose bump against his gently. This was not a dream. Charles was real and here and one hell of a kisser (just as you suspected).

“I am in love with you.” He murmured, stroking his thumb over your cheek fondly. “I have been for a long time. And I never thought you would feel the same way.” 

“I love you, Cha.” You were suddenly brought back to last night, when you’d uttered the same words to him. Only this time, they had a whole different meaning to them. 

This time, you knew Charles loved you in the same way you loved him.

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[aimedis]

guy & honey headcanons 🍕🍯

honey calls guy “baby” occasionally (it's quite frequent actually) and he loves it so much

guy is good at reigning himself in now because of the one time honey seemed to get a little too exasperated with him and he felt horrible and closed his mouth for the rest of the day (they had a talk about boundaries and each person’s needs in their relationship and it’s never happened again)

honey has little moments of being clingy with guy but in the way that they just like to hold him and tell him that they love him without snarky comments (they claim they can’t do it all the time because they can’t have guy getting a big head, them being mean to him is to keep the world in balance) 

guy physically can’t handle it when honey flirts back with him or initiates any affection, he gets very very flustered and his eloquence flies out the window (cue guy’s face blowing up red and honey laughing at him)

it doesn’t matter how long they’ve been together, sometimes honey being any more than two inches in front of guy makes him nervous as hell

sometimes honey can’t help but smile at guy all adoring like

honey loves playing with guy's hair. sometimes when he's talking, they'll just run their fingers through it and it automatically makes him shut up and lean into their hand

honey and guy don't argue a lot and when they do it doesn't really get heated, they just talk for hours on end about whatever they're disagreeing about

they have movie nights where they just watch really shitty movies/shows and make fun of them while eating candy and snacks

honey sometimes plays horror/thriller movies on purpose just so guy can snuggle up to them in fear and hide in their neck (also so he clings onto them at bedtime)

guy almost never wants to be big spoon (when they both want to be little spoon, they'll rock paper scissors for it but if he loses, guy starts whining so much that honey just lets him be little spoon anyways)

sometimes guy comes home from a long day and can't stand the thought of speaking another word so honey just puts on his favourite show and holds him

honey plays solitaire and they're not very good at it (guy finds them raging over the fucking card game at their computer)

honey does their work in bed sometimes and guy just snuggles up to them to fall asleep to the keyboard clicking sounds

guy is only semi-good at cooking anything that's not pizza and honey is really good at so they do most of the cooking

guy bakes a lot though (he stress and apology bakes)

whenever the two are on the couch together, more often than not guy's head is on honey's lap

honey has adapted guy's colourful vocabulary subconsciously and the only reason they noticed, was because when they were speaking to a friend they said something guy would say as a joke and the friend was like "...what?"

the two have a billion inside jokes

honey gets stressed out very often and guy just holds their hand while they rant

a lot of the time when guy is rambling about nothing, honey is just playing with his fingers

honey's clothes are also guy's clothes

guy gets jealous frequently. but it's like a play jealous. honey can't even speak of another person's name or he'll go on a 20 minute rant about how they don't need anyone else in their life other than him (as a joke of course)

honey's type of jealous is a raised eyebrow and a "hm."

guy got his wisdom teeth taken out and he was in a constant cycle of "you're so pretty i wish you were my partner" "i am your partner, guy" "...really?? :0" for three hours until he fell asleep long enough for the anesthesia to wear off

they're both usually awake at the same time in the morning but guy usually leaves first. honey kisses him in the three exact spots every single day before he leaves (forehead, nose, and lips)

sometimes guy bites honey when they're not paying enough attention to him

their song is good-old fashioned lover boy (remastered 2011) by queen

guy just stares at honey a lot, admiring them

honey also stares back at guy when he's talking. guy has stopped mid-rant so many times because they were looking at him so deeply

guy loves kissing honey on the lips

honey loves kissing guy's forehead

both of their love languages are quality time and acts of service

they have "nuh uh" "yuh huh" battles every day

sometimes guy calls honey when he's on break just to talk because the people at his job don't deserve the level of yap he gets when he's with them

guy is constantly trying to get honey to stay in bed with him and sleep in

whenever honey does or says something really sweet, guy starts crying because he knows how hard it is for them to show their affection so blatantly

honey "helps" guy shave (they're just doing it for him)

guy does honey's hair for them

they're the type of couple to do different things in the bathroom at the same time (guy will be brushing his teeth while honey showers)

they watch celebrity scandal recap videos in bed together

honey has fallen asleep during one of guy's rants before (his voice relaxes them unfortunately)

honey is just as much of a menace to guy as he is to them

whenever anything happens, the other is always the first to know (work drama, family drama, big news etc.)

[xprakzif]

matt craves his girlfriend while she’s streaming

warning: smut;MDNI;oral(fem receiving)

streamer!fem!reader x matt

“i don’t know about y’all, but it’s 2am and i’m still not tired!” she was streaming minecraft with her bestfriend, checking the chat every so often and interacting with them.

she was a well-known streamer, thanks to her friendship with the triplets. her and matt had been in a relationship for a few months now, but their viewers were unaware for privacy reasons.

as her nails clacked across the keyboard, the door of her room opened revealing matt rubbing his eyes and adjusting to the light of the room. he had fell asleep in her living room while she streamed, to avoid any incidents.

glancing at him, she signaled with her hand that she was still live. he didn’t care, he was in need.

she shifted her focus back to the monitor. unaware he was getting closer until he kneeled in front of her making her jump and check her camera to make sure he wasn’t in frame.

he crawled under the desk that had enough space just for him. she kept switching between him and the game, trying her best to be discreet as she was confused.

he pushed his finger up to his lips locking eyes with her to make sure she stood quiet. his fingers caressed her thighs up to the waistband of her pajama pants.

on the other end her friend was rambling and she was trying to stay focused. “come here, y/n. i have a surprise for you!”

“coming,” she shifted in her gaming chair as matt slowly pulled down her bottoms along with her panties. this was all that his mind held.

she felt her cheeks burn up, realizing she was acting weird. the chat noticed she was quiet more than usual and began flooding with questions.

“y/n, you’re chats going crazy!” her friend mentioned through the headset.

“o-oh,” she skimmed through, “my bad guys, i’m just zoning out- i’m really focused on this game!” excusing her behavior.

meanwhile matt slid his finger through her folds, pulling away with a string of her arousal. he didn’t want to waste time, he was hungry.

his lips smashed against her heat, sloppily leaving kisses down to her entrance. his tounge licked in between her lips up to her clit, making her eyes go wide and harshly clutching the computer mouse.

he continued to eat at her, her legs opening wider as she moved her hand down to push him in further and softly grind against his face.

she was eager to just end the stream and give an excuse like her power went out, but she didn’t want to raise the suspicion. or she just liked the feeling of getting caught.

matt began sucking on her clit and swirling his tongue around it. he felt his dick harden in his sweats, leaving a small wet spot of pre cum.

her mouth opened a bit as she sucked in air to avoid moaning. gripping harder on his brown hair feeling closer than ever to her release.

she knew she had to interact with her fans, but she felt her legs begin to tremble, the squeeze of her core making her lower half tingle as she finished on his face, shutting her eyes tightly on instinct.

he licked up the oozing liquid that leaked out her hole to clean up the mess he made.

her eyes opened to her player standing idly, remembering her stream. “um- sorry chat, i had to.. sneeze, it didn’t come out!”

matt lifted her pants back on as discreetly as possible, then got up from under the desk to go lay back on the couch, winking at her in the process.

she glanced at the chat, which was going feral.

: WAS THAT MATT?!?!?!

:EWWWWWWWW

:GIRL WHO TF JUST CAME FROM UNDER YOU???

:not you tryna play it off-

:we saw that..

“oh my..”

[gunnerfc]

Could you possibly do a sickfic with Steph Catley where R is her younger sister (like 25 or something) and R gets the flu or like has a migraine and Steph takes care of her? R can be a player or do something else up to you.

Also I hope coming back goes smoothly and just a pre-reminder don't listen to any of the mean anons, they are just keyboard warriors

S. Catley & Sister!Reader - Doctor’s Orders | WC: 801

AN: arsenal Reader! hope you enjoy bff! 🫂

You tried your hardest to hide your cough as you got out of your car at the training grounds, hoping it was just a little cold that would pass by the end of the day. You sniffled as you entered the building, waving hello to the office staff as you made your way to the locker room. Just as you were about to enter, a coughing fit hit and you could tell this wasn’t just a cold.

You opted to keep it to yourself, knowing you would be sent home, and with Champions League games just around the corner, you knew you needed to be on your A-game. In the midst of your coughing, you failed to notice your sister coming down the hall with Lia. 

“Y/n,” Steph’s voice pulled you out of your coughing fit and you turned to look at her with wide eyes. Steph was the last person you wanted to see right now, knowing she would be the first one to send you home.

“Hi, Steph. Hi, Lia,” you mumbled, avoiding their eyes, finding the pictures on the wall more interesting. Lia laughed softly at your avoidance before excusing herself, giving you a light pat on the back as she passed by you. 

You refused to meet your older sister’s gaze until she cleared her throat, waiting for you to look at her. You turned your head slightly with a pained expression, all the coughing had started to cause your head to ache as well. 

“Steph…,” you started but were quickly stopped when the defender’s hand was raised to your forehead to check your temperature. 

“You’re burning up, Y/n/n,” Steph mumbled, as she moved the back of her hand to your check before dropping it. “You should be resting, at home,” she said, with a pointed look.

You sighed softly before opening your mouth to try and defend yourself but instead of speaking, another round of coughing hit you. You sniffled once more after the coughing had subsided and you dropped your head slightly, knowing Steph was right. 

“I have to meet with the trainers about my injury, it shouldn’t take long. Why don’t you go wait for me in my car and I’ll take you home,” Steph offered softly, you knew it was no use trying to argue with her, she knew she would get her way.

You nodded softly before making your way back outside to her car, dropping to the passenger seat to wait for her. After a couple of minutes, you could feel your eyes getting heavy as you fell asleep. You were woken up once you heard the car door open and Steph was lightly shaking you, telling you that you were back at your apartment. You must have slept the whole way back.

Steph helped you to the door, unlocking it with the spare key you gave her when you moved in. You quickly slipped your shoes off before dropping to the couch, sighing once you were able to rest comfortably. 

“You need to eat something first, y/n/n,” Steph’s voice echoed from your kitchen, earning a low groan from you. You knew she was right but you were ready to fall asleep. “Here,” her voice was a lot closer this time, as you opened your eyes to see her sitting a bowl of hot soup on the coffee table.

You mumbled a hoard thank you as you sat up, pulling the bowl up so you could eat. Steph disappeared to your bathroom, looking for medicine that might help with your cough and stuffiness. You sighed softly as the warm soup soothed your sore throat, quickly emptying the bowl just as Steph returned with cold medicine. 

You sat the bowl back on the table and Steph picked it up as she handed you the correct number of pills that the label stated. She was quick to take the dirty dish back to the kitchen and return with a glass of water so you could easily take the medicine. You downed the medicine with a sip of water before placing the glass on the table and making yourself comfortable on the couch once more.

“Get some rest, and hopefully you’ll feel a bit better when you wake up,” your sister spoke softly as she took a seat on the other end of the couch.

“You’re gonna stay the whole time,” you questioned with a small yawn, eyes closing as you were close to sleep.

“Of course,” the defender smiled softly as she turned the TV on with a low volume. You were out after that, your body was tired from the sickness, but you were glad to have Steph there in case you needed her. Playing for the same team as your older sister has its perks sometimes.

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘

𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

𝖕𝖙 2 — 𝖕𝖙 1 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊, 𝖕𝖙 3 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

wc - 5.2k

warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, smut, phone sex, wee bit of angst, brief mention of the word 'daddy'

notes - vibrating with both excitement and fear, but hoping y'all love this like you loved the last one!! also on ao3! ♥

Johnny was right to send you to bed when he did because you're already struggling to get through the day, and on any less sleep, you might have fallen asleep at your desk. Clearly, you're terrible at making decisions for yourself, if that wasn't already evidenced by the nearly empty fridge accompanied by the pile of empty takeout containers.

It's not even the end of the workday yet, and you're beat—except staying up with Johnny was so worth it, getting to hear his voice and everything he said was complete bliss. You only wish he was here now, whispering in your ear and making your day go by quicker. Unfortunately, the sad reality is that beyond your good morning text, you haven't heard from him since, and you hate that you already feel like you're suffering from withdrawals. 

Again, that could be the lack of sleep, or adequate nutrition, or the fact that lately you haven't exactly been the most social person, and you've definitely been missing social contact. All of that missing need you just want to be filled by Johnny, Johnny, Johnny—his name like a chanted prayer in your mind. 

You at least have the sense of mind to focus when you need to, but at any idle moment, Johnny crawls back into your brain. Your mind drifts to wondering what he's up to, wondering where in the world they've shipped him off to this time—what timezone is he even in? What hemisphere? 

5 p.m. comes round sooner than you expect, and you find yourself logging off from your work laptop with a relieved sigh. You might be exhausted from lack of sleep, but Johnny's arrival in your life left you energised in a way you hadn't felt in so long. Every part of you hums with excitement, thinking about what the future might hold. 

You have to keep snapping yourself out of getting lost in the fantasy, even as you find yourself rereading through texts and committing Johnny's words to memory. The last time you did this still sticks in the back of your mind, still stings—someone who came into your life and was everything until they were nothing. Someone who said they could be trusted as they broke down your barriers. 

The aching loneliness was too much, so you'd run from it straight into something worse, not even realising how easily you fell into the trap. 

Your thoughts were spiraling, and you needed a distraction, so you put on the TV in the hopes of getting lost in the shitty reality dating show you've been watching lately. 

A few hours later, the buzz of your phone pulls you from the drama of the screen—your spirits soaring as you see the little icon you're rapidly growing attached to. 

Evening bonnie, hope you're not napping too close to bed time. 

hi!! no... for once, lol. how was your day? 

Long, but thoughts of you got me through ;) how was yours? 

The rapid responses mean your smile never has time to waver, as your eyes are glued to the screen watching as the messages are read, the app tells you he is typing and then another one of his messages appears. 

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you eagerly respond.

somehow managed to not fall asleep at my desk, i would've napped but... 

But? 

didn't want to risk missing any messages from you. 

Johnny heart reacts to the message immediately. 

Call? 

please!!! 

Mere seconds later, his face fills the screen once more, and your sheer excitement overtakes your nerves by far.

"Hi." You say shyly, as soon as you accept the call.

"Hi bonnie, gotcha on loudspeaker by the way." He greets you, his voice immediately sending warmth through you. 

You were rapidly growing obsessed with his terms of endearment, too. 

"Oh." You pause, suddenly self-conscious and hesitant. "Are you not alone?" Does anyone in his life even know you exist? You know you haven't really mentioned to your friends that you're 'dating' again.

"Definitely am, don't worry. Jus' need ma hands free." 

At that, your brow furrows, your voice filling with both mischief and disbelief. "What are you doing, Johnny?" 

He chuckles, before rustling some papers around. "Paperwork, nothing fun." 

Even hearing the word paperwork right now drains you, and can hear that Johnny isn't exactly pleased with the idea either. 

"Wishing I was under the desk again?" You ask, hoping your playful tone will make him smile. 

"Dinnae start." He groans. "What are you doing? Have you eaten?" 

"Not yet, I need to check my milk is still in date." You throw yourself off the sofa and make your way through to the kitchen—it's a good job Johnny actually poked you to eat. 

"Milk?" His voice is filled with confusion.

"For cereal." 

"Ach." 

"I can feel your disapproval from here." You can practically sense him shaking his head disapprovingly too. 

"Good, I see how this gonae be." He sighs, the disappointment evident, along with that sense of control, guidance. 

It just makes you tingle.

"Yes, daddy?" You giggle audaciously like you know exactly what you're doing, and hope it has the effect you want it to.

Johnny chokes, and then growls... and then sighs. "Away n bile yer heid." He whispers, yet he sounds anything but angry, his voice thick with arousal as he undoubtedly fights all kinds of urges. 

You want to take that step with Johnny, to dirty talk with him now that you feel comfortable, but you suppose now isn't the time—after all, he is still working. 

"I'm being mean now, sorry." 

"A right brat." He growls playfully. "Do something for me, lass?" 

The shift in his tone and the previous conversation topic gives you a good guess at what's coming next. "Is it cooking a real meal?" You groan playing into the role.

Well, admittedly committing to self-care tasks like cooking isn't the easiest thing in the world, and having someone to guide you in that is... a turn-on. 

"Knew you were a smart girl." He purrs, and those words turn your brain and your body to mush. 

You have to stifle a whine from leaving you, as your face flushes furiously. Oh, how you wish you could hear that over and over again—in that voice, with that accent, whispered right in your ear as he—

"What you gonna cook?" He asks, interrupting your rapidly spiraling thoughts. 

Staring into the fridge is a depressing experience—the shelves are mostly bare and there's a faint smell of something off. "Ugh, I don't have a lot in, to be honest." 

"Logging onto the Tesco website now, or maybe meal delivery service..." He muses, and you can imagine the smirk on his lips.

"Johnny!" Your protest is weak, as the coddling and infantalisation make you feel something you probably shouldn't. 

He snickers at your tone, but he knows now that if things are to continue, he won't listen to your objections. "Jokin'... for now. Talk me through yer fridge, lass." 

"Do you cook?" You ask, wondering if he's going to magically talk you through a recipe with the condiments in your fridge and the dried pasta in the pantry. 

There's a beat of silence. "Not often." 

You're overcome with a fit of giggles and a wave of faux offense. "Then who are you to lecture me?" 

Johnny meets your exclamation with a series of tuts, which already quiet your discontent, but you find yourself ruined when his voice drops and he delivers his next few words. "What happened to 'Johnny knows best'?" 

Fuck him, using his powers for good—and you can already tell he's getting off on it too. Today, you won't indulge him by submissively repeating it back, since he's making you face the horror that is cooking.

"Fine." You sigh, looking for what items in the fridge that are actually still in date. You pull open a cupboard or two as well. "I have... hummus and celery and uh, supernoodles in the cupboard." 

"Better than cereal." He waits for your response that doesn't come, as you pout on the end of the phone, and then he plays his next move flawlessly.  "For me, bonnie girl?" 

The plea in his voice makes you melt, makes you want to do just about anything for him. 

"For you." You say with a smile, grabbing the packets of noodles and a saucepan. "Have you eaten?" 

"A have, chicken tikka masala." 

You sigh, knowing that if not for Johnny you could've ordered a nice Indian for yourself—you get to work on the noodles anyway. "Kinda jealous now, if I'm honest."

His laugh is short but earnest. "Same, haven't had beefy supernoodles in an age." 

"Yeah, I would hope they're feeding you actually decent, nutritious food over there." 

He huffs. "I would hope you're feeding yerself decent food, but here we are." That playful judgement is back, lacing his words and making you crave his approval. 

It's a startling thought, that here you are, only a few days in and needing his praise, his encouragement—you suppose it comes easy as it plays into both of your natural instincts—his to lead, yours to follow.

"Less sass, more... paperwork." You grumble playfully, trying to cover up the fact that, maybe, you like being teased by him. 

"Aye." He laughs, and you can briefly hear him scribbling in the silence.  

For a few moments, it's just the sound of him writing and you cooking, but the quiet feels comfortable rather than awkward—strangely routine and domestic after such a short space of time. 

Your mind wanders back to what the two of you had discussed last night, about his day later in the week. "Have you thought more about Friday?" 

There's a brief shuffle and the sound of the call changes as Johnny seems to take you off the loudspeaker and moves around. "Meetin' you?" 

"Yeah." There's a sense of nervousness within you, a fear he's going to suddenly decide that he doesn't want to see you after all, that he doesn't see this going anywhere. It's so soon, and yet the thought seems crushing. 

"Haven't thought of much else." His confession seems to settle your rapidly beating heart just a little, the sincerity in his voice making your stomach twist and turn. 

Maybe you shouldn't push it, but you want to meet him more than anything, so you can make the first step toward all of this becoming real. "Would you be up for coffee? I can come to you!" 

"About that..." His sigh is weary, and panic overtakes you as the silence stretches on. "Am leaving for a week or so." 

It's not a total rejection at least, but somehow it still stings, still settles heavy and unpleasant in your gut. "When?" 

"Tomorrow." He falls silent, waiting for you to say something, yet you don't know what words to even summon right now. "'m sorry, lass." 

You take a deep breath for a moment, collecting your thoughts as you stir your noodles and try to put everything you feel into some sort of coherent order. 

There's no logical reason to feel rejected, as it's not that he doesn't want the date, but that he can't. Perhaps it's that lingering thought that this kind of thing will be a frequent occurrence—it's just a small taste of what's to come. But wanting Johnny means handling this, like he deserves. 

You push through the discomfort and force yourself into a more positive mindset.

"But... after that? Or is this just because you hate coffee so much you're fleeing the country?" You laugh softly, hoping the joke will lighten the thick atmosphere. 

"Now, if you'd asked me out for tea..." He laughs in return, before turning serious. "But... when I'm back, I'd love to see you. Have ta, really. " 

"I'm glad." The beaming smile on your face is ridiculous, and you're so thankful he can't see you grinning like an idiot at his words. He has to meet you. 

With your cooking complete, you take the saucepan off the stove and pour the noodles into a bowl, grabbing it before returning to the comfort of the couch. "Okay, noodles done." 

"Wanna call me back once yer done, or?" 

Fuck, he's so considerate. 

You hum negatively as you start to blow on the noodles to cool them. "I'll eat on the phone if you don't mind the sound of me slurping." 

Johnny chuckles, before making a suggestive noise. 

"The noodles, Johnny." 

He coughs, covering more juvenile laughter. "Aye, the noodles, of course." 

"So... going anywhere fun?" You ask, referencing his upcoming deployment. 

"Classified, I'm afraid." He answers curtly, but you know it's nothing more than his duty. 

No questions about that, then, you suppose. It's going to be a strange thing to adjust to, but it's another thing that comes along with accepting Johnny into your life. You change your line of questioning, hopefully to something he can answer. "Are you... scared?" 

"No." He answers quickly and firmly, in a manner that suggests certainty rather than bravado. "Don't worry about me, hen." He rushes to add.

"Kinda hard not to, even if we only just met..." You sigh, but you suppose you have to trust Johnny's skills and training. "I imagine it only gets more intense from here." 

The admission feels like a swift kick to the stomach. 

"Yeah..." You hear a knock on the door from Johnny's end, and he swears colourfully under his breath. "Ach, can I call yer back?" 

It's almost cruel the way such timing drives the point home. 

"Sure, things to attend to?" You ask absentmindedly, not really expecting an answer. 

He sighs, before trying to turn his tone more positive. "Aye, but I'll catch you before bed, yeah?" 

"Yeah. Bye, Johnny." 

"Bye, lass." 

He ends the call, leaving you with your meal and your thoughts. 

Maybe you aren't strong enough to deal with this after all, you think, trying to settle the ugly, gnawing feeling inside you. It already hurts, but maybe that's because you're trying to hold so tight onto something intangible. Maybe if you and Johnny become something, mean something to each other, it'll all be easier to deal with. 

It's an hour or so later when you're tucked up in bed that Johnny's call lights up your phone. You pick it up instantly. 

"Hey, glad you haven't fallen asleep already." He chuckles, his voice softer than before. 

"Mmm, still hanging on." You mumble, cheek pressed into plushness and tiredness lingering at the back of your mind, as well as the mess of feelings that still simmers within you. 

"Cuddled up with the big B?" He asks, voice cheeky and charming. 

You can't help the soft giggle at the ridiculous nickname. "The big B?!"

"Barnaby!" He clarifies with a hearty laugh, not ashamed at all of his goofiness. 

"The big B! That's so silly" 

The laughs quiet, and another silence falls, but this time you feel the discomfort that comes with it. 

Johnny is the first to breach it, his tone tinged with worry. "How are yer?"

"I'm fine." You sigh, not wanting to elaborate and get yourself upset again. It's not far from the truth. Nothing has changed, but this is something you have to learn to sit with, have to make peace with for both of your sake. 

Johnny cuts right through the noise. "Yer seemed a little upset earlier. Wanna talk about it?" 

Communication—the key to any good relationship, an essential to any kinky one, and one thing you think you really kind of suck at. 

It's a simple sentence with a simple answer, and nothing about Johnny suggests that his reaction will be anything other than supportive—but it's not Johnny's voice that whispers cruel things in the back of your head. And for now, Johnny's influence is not enough to quiet the storm. 

The fear grips at your heart, stops your words right in your throat, but your mind wars between the ghosts of your past and the duty of your present and future. 

Johnny waits quietly, not pushing you for an answer or assuming how you feel, and that small act helps pull you out of the fog and helps you force yourself to speak. 

"Reality setting in, I guess." The words don't come easy at first, your throat tight—but once you start, the rest just seems to flow, taking the weight of your burdens with them. "Like, it's not too bad right now, it's just... knowing what's in store? Assuming we keep talking." 

The opportunity to really put your thoughts in order and get them out actually does help, surprisingly.

Johnny goes silent for a moment, considering your words before he speaks. "If you wanna stop—" 

"I don't." You feel bad for interrupting him, but you already know that's not what you want, even if he sees it as a kindness. "Like I said yesterday, I'm not faint-hearted... the intensity just took me by surprise. All of this has, really." 

"I'm with you there. Sat here thinking about how I'm gonna be thinking of anything else when I'm on the mission." He laughs softly, the sound laden with emotion. "Lt's gonna have my head." 

The gravity of his job sinks in now, with the realisation that he will be busy and focused, and rightfully so.

"Will you be able to get in touch while you're gone?" You ask, more for informational purposes, rather than being unable to last a week without hearing his voice. 

"Not a whole lot, no. Sometimes no' at all, but I'll let you know when I can." He states plainly, and the honesty is so refreshing. 

"I'll try not to bother you too much then." You giggle, though you don't really mean your words. He has his mission, and you have yours—stay strong while he's gone. 

He scoffs instantly. "You? A bother? Never." 

You hum, continuing with your playful statements. "You haven't seen me when I'm clingy." 

"A like clingy, am clingy too." 

Ugh, just when you think he can't be more perfect, he comes out with that. The sweet smile on your face is relentless, and you just know the same is true for him too. "Oh yeah? So you won't be complaining when we meet, and I just take a hold of your hand and don't let go." 

His barked laugh is so genuine that it makes your heart sing. "Bold of yer to assume I'd be letting you go, lass." 

The thought of even his hand in yours is enough to send you into a frenzy—a simple, delicate, and chaste act, yet you crave it like nothing else. When your date finally does come around, you'll be able to touch him and see him up close. You'll be able to hear that voice and those words up close and unrestrained by the slightly shitty quality of the phone call—and that is a little terrifying.  

"I guess waiting isn't a bad thing after all, maybe I'll be less nervous by then." Because right now you know you'd hesitate to reach out and touch him, would struggle looking him in the eye for too long. Maybe if you wait, the radiance that is Johnny's warmth will wear off, but somehow you doubt it. 

"Why ya nervous?" 

You almost snort at such an oblivious question from such a seemingly smart man. "Have you seen you?" Have you talked to you? Been on the end of your affections? Your mind pleads. 

"See this ugly mug every day." He grumbles, though you can still hear the smile. 

"You can't see, but I'm rolling my eyes." You giggle. "But what if I just... can't resist you? Jump you right then and there?" Your voice takes on a more teasing tone. 

"In public?" He tuts, slow and sexy, his voice dropping low. "Naughty girl." 

You straight up whimper. "Needy girl, for you." 

A growl leaves his throat, along with a whispered "Fuck." 

Arousal floods through you, overtakes you, as you feel your mind slipping to a space of deep-seated need, all for him. You feel on fire, your skin hypersensitive to the brush of the sheets, as your lower body hums and begs for attention. No longer can you hold yourself back from falling under his sexy spell. "Your groans, your voice, it all drives me crazy." 

The laugh that leaves him is weaker, choked with arousal. "All wet fer me, bonnie?" His voice, now a touched graveled, wraps so wonderfully around every word. 

"Soaked." You squirm in place, not even needing to feel to know just how dripping you are—every time he teases you, you practically gush. Your spare hand dives below the sheets, tracing ever so slightly over your stomach as it crawls lower. "Johnny?" 

"Yes, bonnie?" It sounds like his control is wavering too. 

"Please can I touch? I need it so bad." You whine and plead, surrendering yourself to Johnny's command. 

"You don't—" Another growl leaves his throat, you hear him shuffle and when his voice returns, he sounds even more aroused than before—sweet, gentle domination drips from his tone. "Touch yerself, go on." 

You comply immediately, your hand diving under your waistband and zeroing in on your swollen clit—relief floods you the second you make contact, your fingers rubbing delicate swirls on your soaked nub as gentle moans force themselves free. 

"Oh fuck." Johnny's breathing is ragged between his groans. "Gonna have tae join ya." 

"Fuckfuckfuck." Your eyes slip shut as you imagine him reaching down to free his aching cock, all for you. Your thoughts center on conjuring up an image of how long and thick you imagine him to be. "Is... is your cock as big as the rest of you?" 

You squeak out your words while you still have command over the English language.

"Guess you'll find out soon enough." He chuckles breathlessly, some of the words catching in his throat as he clearly works himself. "But I don't think you'll be disappointed. I know how tae take care of yer, know you're already desperate for me." 

Your circles quicken, his words sending pleasure coursing through you in a way that almost feels better than your touch. You fill the air with breathy moans. "Need you, Johnny." 

"Need you too, pet." He growls his words over the building slick sound.

"Oh fuck." Your reaction is instant, the word sending everything in your brain into overdrive. Pet. Pet. You almost cum right then and there, but his assault on your senses and sensibilities continues. 

"God, thinking about you on the end of a leash for me? So fuckin' hard thinking about it." His voice modulates between and whine and a growl, his need growing furiously. "I'd be so fuckin' lucky." 

You imagine the collar slipping around your neck, imagine Johnny clicking shut a lock and attaching a leash—pulling you to him just as he is now with every word. 

"I'd be the most loyal pet ever, I swear." You start to babble, unable to hold back any longer on the wave of submission that overtakes you. "I'll Wait for you to come home, naked and kneeling with my leash ready." 

"Jesus, fuck." Each grunt that leaves him makes you shiver. Each word like its own bolt of electricity straight from his body to yours. "Yeah, my good girl would be so lost without me." He says it with such certainty, speaking the truth to life. 

"I get separation anxiety like mad. I'll miss your touch, miss your smell, miss your taste—" You cut yourself off with a high-pitched whine, your fingers working you so fucking close to the edge.

"Don't worry, I'd fuck you so good before I go bonnie, fill yer up and leave you dripping with me." His groans are accompanied by more of those slick sounds. "Mark that pretty neck o' yours, too." 

"I'm... I'm not gonna last." You admit, holding back even now from cumming—you crave his permission. 

"Me either. Go on, moan for me, let me hear you." He urges you gently, even if his voice is filled with need. 

You let all your noises flow freely as you teeter toward the edge and desperately try to please him with the sounds you make. It's all too good, too much, too overwhelming. 

"Johnny, can I—" 

His demand is out of his mouth before you can even finish your sentence. "Cum fer me, bonnie. Go on." 

You cum with a strangled cry, flying over the edge right as Johnny demands it. The build-up of the past few days along with Johnny's noises has you shaking in ecstasy—ecstasy that's only prolonged when he cums too with a long, drawn-out groan.

After a moment, the only sound is both of your heavy breathing, as you come down from your high. 

"Oh my god." You sigh, a silly, blissed-out grin overtaking your features.

"You okay, sweet girl?" His voice returns to that sweetness you're coming to know and love.

You nod mindlessly, even though he can't see you. "Better than okay, are you?" 

He hums in affirmation, before his voice turns a touch serious. "You did so good. Just want tae make sure you're good, and a didn't go too far." 

"Hah, I mean, nowhere near too far." You admit shakily. 

"Am glad, it's only early days, though. That trust..." He hesitates. 

"... It takes a while, yeah." The post-orgasmic bliss coupled with the feeling of that trust taking root and growing. "I'm glad you understand." 

And he understands perfectly, as you never feel pushed or rushed, only pampered and adored. 

"Of course... it's special, for both of us." He admits, and you know you're on the same wavelength when it comes to the bond and relationship between dominant and submissive. 

"Mhmm." You hum dreamily, wholeheartedly agreeing and yet not able to summon up something profound. 

"Already sleepy?" His laughter is soft and sincere. 

"I'd get so much rest if every night was like this." 

"Even more so when I finally get to fuck ya, bonnie." He whispers so casually, yet even after your orgasm your clit still thrums with interest—God, he has such a hold on you.

"Yeah?" You sigh, dreaming of the day you'll get to experience it. 

"Yeah." 

The line falls silent, and you feel yourself fading. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so... sleepy." You whisper while you still have the chance. 

"It's okay, sweet girl, close yer eyes. Am right here." Johnny's sweet voice lulls you closer and closer, and your phone falls free from your hand to your pillow, resting there with Johnny just on the end of the line. 

"Goodnight Johnny." You mumble, before sleep finally takes you.

"Goodnight, Bonnie." His reply is soft, carrying you off to unconsciousness as he drifts off too.  

-//-

Johnny practically vibrates where he stands—wired beyond belief. Part of it is his usual pre-mission adrenaline, but the events of the past few days especially almost have him climbing the walls. His energy is frenetic as usual but with so much more—lust, yearning, withdrawal. 

It's only been a few hours since he ended the call after waking up before you, and yet he finds his thoughts unable to leave you, even as he finishes gearing up. You'd love to see him like this, and an idea strikes him.

He pulls out his phone, turns to the man beside him, and hopes he doesn't regret asking. Then again, some ribbing from the masked man would be nothing compared to the floored reaction he'd get from you.

"Ghost?" He asks, piercing the comfortable silence between the two of them. 

"What?" Ghost turns, eyeing Johnny and his hand holding his outstretched phone.

Johnny doesn't waver, sure in his request, and eager to see your response. "Take a picture of me, yeah?" 

"Girl back home?" Ghost asks, cutting straight to the point as he takes the phone. "Is this the first time she's seeing you? Cause you look fuckin' rough." 

"No." Johnny frowns, and worry washes over him. Surely Lt. is just messing him around—he knows she'll be happy to see him either way. 

Ghost pulls off a glove and navigates to the camera before stepping back and holding up the phone in Johnny's direction. He might be giving Johnny shit, but he at least takes the time to angle and position the frame in a way that compliments Johnny's stature. "She like the tac gear?" 

Johnny sighs, wishing this was over already. "Just take the picture, Ghost." 

"Say cheese." Ghost deadpans, and the softest of smiles graces Johnny's features—for her, not for him.

Johnny practically snatches the phone back from Ghost's hands, checking out the photo immediately. "Thanks." 

He pulls up their messages immediately, firing off the picture with a kissing face and a teasing message just for her. 

When he locks the phone and throws it in his bag, Ghost's eyes are fixed on him, his blackened eyes narrowed.

"Mind on the mission, yeah, Johnny?" 

Johnny nods, doing his best to push thoughts of her away for now, and letting his inner soldier take over. He'll be back to her before he knows it. "Aye, Lt." 

Days later, and after a successful first phase of the mission, Johnny stares down at his phone. The signal is nonexistent and won't return for a while, but he misses you, his mind is itching with his need for you. In this shitty safe house in the middle of nowhere, while someone else is on watch, there's very little to do, and truly nothing else he'd rather think about. 

He scrolls to the top of your messages, rereading each message and reliving each conversation, experiencing all over again how each message made him feel. 

Your sweet texts, your copious use of emojis, and your cute little selfies—it was all so intoxicating to him. For a man who was so used to maintaining focus, you were a fucking curveball. Something about you just sends his protective instincts into overdrive, makes unearned possessive tendrils curl up through him and around his heart—calls out to his guiding, dominant, caring side.

He has to constantly stamp down the thoughts inside that called out to him to find you, scoop you up, and take you home with him. Luckily for you both, Johnny is a patient man. He spends time out in the field waiting days for anything interesting to happen, he's spent years waiting for his pet, his girl to come along—and you're right there. He can wait a little longer. 

He holds down the record button, intent on recording a message for you, and begins whispering into the phone.

"Hi, been sat on my arse for far too long with nothing to do but think of you. Dinnae think I'll get signal anytime soon, but I 'spose it'll send at some point." He feels himself relax just a little as he falls into Johnny, the man—rather than Soap, the soldier.

"Been thinking about our first date, since you mentioned coffee. Kinda had a crazy idea actually, but I need your input. What about a cat café? Has to be one in that city o' yours, and I figure you must like kitties."

"Won't be long until you might be one for me... or a bunny... or a puppy." He interrupts himself with a sigh.

"Need tae stop those thoughts and quit while I'm ahead. Let me know, yeah? As soon as I get my leave, we'll set it up."

"Talk soon, bonnie." 

[neoraso]

i like the way you love me | ldh

nonidol!haechan x nonidol!reader again- something no one asked for yayyyyy ftl, literally just fluff like nothing but happiness oops! there's only one joke about being like- deathly ill but i figured i'd warn you in advance wc:~ 2.5k

all plans you had about “going out on the town” with haechan were dashed as soon as you walked into his apartment. you could tell he was in the middle of gaming when you let yourself in with the spare key he hid “so well” under the mat that you bought him as a housewarming gift. walking through the door and placing your shoes neatly against the wall amidst the array of sneakers and grandpa sandals thrown around the entrance, you absentmindedly noted that the boundaries between you and haechan were almost nonexistent. it had been that way since you met in middle school, when he was baby faced and wild. back then he didn’t know the insinuations of sharing a drink with two straws or passing notes littered with hearts and stars just to say “hi.” now, his face had begun to sharpen, cheekbones more prominent and a jawline that defined his matured appearance. he was still wild, but his energy and teasing were tempered, and he had figured out how to sense when enough was enough.

affection between the two of you was not uncommon nor was it uncomfortable. in fact, haechan was the person you felt the most comfortable with out of your friends- even those you had known as long as him. you moved in sync, matched each other’s preferences and both equally gave each other the push or pull the other needed. he was your “person” as they say, and you sometimes told him this when you were drunk- or sometimes even just on a late-night phone call, falling asleep after your confession. you meant it platonically of course, but these days you couldn’t tell if there was more to your own words…      

you heard him before you saw him, which snapped you out of your thoughts. he was talking to whoever he was playing with through his headphones, but you figured it was jaemin given the sassy (and borderline offensive) comments that were thrown out but you all knew there was no real strength behind them.

the bedroom door was already open as you welcomed yourself in. as usual, even though it was midday the only light was coming from a floor lamp -another gift from you so he didn’t live in dungeon-like conditions- in the corner of the room. clearly, he did not notice you because when you poked his shoulder to announce your entrance he yelped and could’ve easily punched you in the stomach if you hadn’t been used to these reactions and jumped backwards with a smile.

“god, y/n! seriously i could’ve killed you! oh my f- sorry guys i’m sorry.’

he quickly got distracted again trying to resume his place in his game while you tugged on the strands of his bangs sticking out from his headphones.

“my bad, i knew that if i waited for you to respond to my text i would’ve been standing outside for four hours.” you took a pause as you twirled his hair between your fingers. “also, i think you need a haircut. you should let me do it.” you teased, knowing 50% of his concentration was not even on you anyways.

he swatted your hands away and huffed, still furiously clicking his keyboard.

“i thought you liked it long. or do you just want an excuse to touch my hair?” he replied, his smirk turning into a frown when you lightly pulled his dark strands again.

“i do like it, but how do you even see?” not waiting for his response, you flopped onto his bed which was- unsurprisingly- half-made but still smelled clean and slightly like his perfume. putting a pillow over your head, you closed your eyes, humming when he talked just loud enough to let you know when the match was over you guys could figure out what to do.

at some point, even despite his constant clicking and talking, you nearly fell asleep. nearly, until you felt something hitting the pillow that was actually, nearly suffocating you, still over your face. you blindly reached above you trying to catch the hands that were attacking you, glaring at a grinning haechan when you threw the pillow across the bed.

“come on y/n it’s like 2 pm this is no time to be falling asleep.”

“ok mister ‘i’d-lay-in-bed-all-day-if-i-could.’” you said, rolling your eyes.

“yeah but not when i have my lovely dearest bestest friend waiting to have fun with me~”

it was a bit odd how the term “best friend” had been bothering you lately. there was absolutely no reason to consider yourself more than that, but the more horrific probable possible cause was that you wanted more. in the 10+ years you had been friends with him, there had been no romantic feelings. you didn’t think he was unattractive by any means, and you always got along- never having a disagreement that lasted longer than 20 minutes. but you both dated other people, and never had any sort of tension or yearning that you could remember. that was until about six months ago, when you started noticing how pretty he looked when the sun started to go down, or the way his lips moved and pouted, glossing when he ran his tongue over them. it was getting kind of freaky at this point, and you tried to ignore these newfound “noticings” about your best friend.

pulling you out of your reverie, you realized you had been staring at him for about three seconds without speaking which was three seconds too long as he raised one eyebrow, maneuvering his hands back over yours, tugging on them to prompt you to get up.

“i know i’m gorgeous, but it is tiimeee to get uppp come onnn.”

he dragged out the words in singsong as your hands started to get clammy being this close to him.

this was getting to be absolutely ridiculous you thought. he was in a loose black tee shirt and basketball shorts that were a size too big, and he still looked too good.

he finally pulled you into a sitting position but held in his breath when you let go of his hands and wrapped your arms around his middle, gripping the fabric of his shirt. he tentatively draped one arm over your shoulder onto your upper back and placed the other one on the back of your head, slightly petting your hair.

“what’s gotten into you hm? you’re not usually this cuddly... are you terminal or something? please don’t tell me you’re terminal.”

your response was slightly muffled when you turned your head, so your lips were slightly pressed into his side. even you had no idea what you were doing. this was probably wildly inappropriate, but you were close enough you could play it off…most likely.

“don’t be ridiculous, i’m not sick. im just tired… or …something.”

“or something?” he almost sounded disappointed, which was concerning but also made you feel better that you both seemed to be dancing around something. he pulled the back of your hair to get you to look at him and you complied. you rested your chin on his stomach, enjoying the way he smelled just like he always does and how warm he was, his hand still resting on your shoulder blade.

for once, he was speechless, his hand stilling in your hair. luckily (for both of you) he regained his composure, blinking rapidly and clearing his throat, trying to change the subject.

“well, either way, what did you want to do today? i know i said we should go out but now i kinda wanna… stay in… i guess…” he trailed off noticing how your eyelashes brushed against the tops of your cheeks as you sleepily blinked up at him. suddenly the air became thick, waking you right up, your heartbeat picking up against your chest. he looked at you intently, like he was scanning your face for whatever you were thinking to be spelled out for him.

“y/n…”

this was bad. it’s like you were drunk, dizzy and face flushed, your skin was tingling but also numb everywhere you could feel him. you had a feeling where this was going and though it scared the hell out of you, you also wanted him badly. more than anyone you ever have before and certainly more than you ever thought you would feel towards him.

you could only hum in response as he trailed both of his hands to the back of your neck.

“do you think we’re changing too or is it just me?”

his question caught you off guard and you wished he’d do pretty much anything else (mainly, kiss you) than continue this vulnerable conversation. but he was still looking at you, with eyes that were more earnest than usual, and you knew this was a time he needed sincerity and honesty from you.

“changing…” you repeated his term thoughtfully before finishing your sentence. “well um… yes. i mean- i think about you differently than i ever have and i…” you were almost too embarrassed to continue, but his eyes still staring into yours and shining with the fondness he always had for you, you felt you owed it to him to let him know how you felt- even if he didn’t reciprocate. “the thought of you with anyone else scares me. i want to be able do…this” you said tugging his shirt to emphasize your intimate position, “all the time, not as friends. i don’t want to just be your friend.” he still wasn’t speaking which made you nervous and continue to ramble when you probably, most definitely should not have. “lately i don’t want to be away from you, and i… want to be yours…if that’s ok and you feel the same obviously… i mean i hope you would-“

he cut you off with a whisper of your name. to which you replied with a meek “yes?” your voice cracking a bit from nerves, not expecting to say all of…whatever that was. you shocked even yourself with everything you admitted to him.

“do you not know how i feel about you-or have felt about you? it’s been like three years.” though his words were loaded, he was still smiling down at you. then you realized he said three years.

“you’re kidding.” was all you could manage, deadpan, as he started to chuckle, rubbing the tips of your ears between his fingers.

“mmm i’m not~ thank you for meeting me in the middle i knew you would.”

you poked his side at that and narrowed your eyes, making him laugh more. “well don’t sound so smug, or i’ll take it back.”

“you couldn’t even if you tried~ i’m irresistible.” he didn’t even give you a chance to roll your eyes as he lifted you up under your arms to stand in front of him.

looking up at his face, you tried to keep your voice steady.

“we’re very close right now…”

he looked down at your lips and leaned in, just close enough to where you could feel his breath hit your nose.

“yes we are. is this ok?” his breathing was even but his pulse was not, you could feel it fluttering against your chest at the same beat as your own heart. he leaned in more as you nodded and closed your eyes as you waited for his lips to finally meet yours. his hands reached down to grab your hips and he grinned against your mouth when you put your hands over his, slightly pushing your fingers in between the gaps of his own. after what seemed like eons, he kissed you, inhaling deeply and gripping your waist just a bit tighter. not wanting to overwhelm you by slipping his tongue in like he wanted, he opted begrudgingly to pull away and kiss the corner of your mouth, squeezing your side and kissing your cheek next when he heard you whine and felt your hands climbing up his stomach to his shoulders then the nape of his neck to pull his mouth back on yours.

indulging in you again because – when has he ever said no to you- he gave you one, two, three more kisses, each louder and wetter than the last until kissing your nose and pulling away.

“hey, we still never figured out what we wanted to do today. i haven’t even taken you on a date yet.” he said thoughtfully.

“we can date tomorrow, can’t we just stay in and do this all day? we can watch a movie later… i guess…”

he gave a real laugh at his and pet the top of your hair noticing your frown at the thought of parting from him.

“you’re so cute like this, ohh what am i gonna do? but ok, you win. i wanted to stay in too. and now,” he started with his signature mischievous look, “i get to have you all to myself~ and do this- “he slightly lifted you again and pretty much tossed you on the bed earning a yelp as he climbed into his side, lifting up the blanket to encourage you to slip underneath with him. cuddling was nothing new but with this newfound stage in your dynamic it seemed a bit daunting now.

“come on, i won’t bite-unless you want me to” he said wiggling his eyebrows, grinning when you lightly smacked his thigh before lying next to him. immediately throwing your arm around his middle and slipping your ankle between his, you adjusted your position and watched as he reached over onto his bedside table to grab his laptop. he set it on his lap and typed in his password with one hand while the other arm was around your shoulder, securing you to him. he pressed his face into your hair and kissed you there before dramatically sniffing.

“baby… i think you need a shower…”

you gasped at his audacity (but mostly the pet name) and tried to get up from his iron grip threatening to go home as he laughed at you even more, relenting,

“i’m just kidding baby. ohhh my baby~ you actually smell great is it that perfume i got you?”

“yes…” you grumbled with hot cheeks, “i wear it every day.”

quieting down to look at you so tenderly, before he could say anything you spoke again,

“weird how we kind of skipped all the normal steps huh.”

he hummed and threaded his fingers through your hair.

“did we need the steps? we’ve known each other forever and everyone already acts like we’re together. actually, we wouldn’t even have to say anything to anyone. i could probably makeout with you at the next group dinner and no one would care. wow that’s actually a great idea we should do that.”

“we absolutely should not? you’re crazy.”

“yeah, crazy for youuu~” before you could cringe at such a cliché line, he poked your shoulder and said with a faux stern tone, “hey, kiss me again.”

“now who’s obsessed?” you said, but still embarrassingly quickly lifted up from his grasp to lean over his face. he looked up at you with a slightly devious expression which did not match how carefully he moved your hair out of your face as you met him in the middle making him sigh into your mouth, breathing you in. he pulled away and pressed his head against the pillows to look at you better.

“me. i’m obsessed. i am completely obsessed with you, always have been. i’ll tattoo it on my neck and hands and update every social media letting everyone know how much i-“

“okay! i get it. but just know i feel the same… times 1000.” you interrupted him, becoming more bashful with each word. thankfully, he spared you, pulling you down to lay all your weight on top of him with your face in his neck and lightly rubbing your back.

“what should we watch? wait i have an idea-“

“not the kissing booth.” you managed to muffle against the skin of his neck. sick of that movie he made you watch at least once a month. but he could feel your eyelashes closing against his skin.

“you’re so mean. and you know what? i don’t even think you want to watch a movie you’re already drooling on my shoulder.” when he got no response from you, he got nervous he had actually offended you until he felt your soft, even exhales on his collarbones. realizing you actually fell asleep, he smiled to himself and continued to play with your hair. he was so content finally being able to have you this way it didn’t take him long to close his eyes and meet you in your dreams.

[wonbokkies]

☆ so sweet.

pairing. lee minho x gn reader.

content / warnings. established relationship, fluff, descriptions of menstrual cycle.

word count. 823

synopsis. it's your time of the month, minho and his kitties are there to comfort you.

★ chus note. enjoy A Very. self-indulgent fic . . ( ꈍ ᵕ ꈍ )

you were laying down in the comfort of your warm mattress, huffing a quiet sigh while having a heat pad over your aching lower abdomen to lessen the occasional throbbing sensation within. you couldn’t bring yourself to properly sit upright, feeling too fatigued to do much.

the various sounds of meows and purrs was all you could hear, along with the soft rustle of the bedsheets. the random show that you were previously watching to distract yourself on the television now long forgotten, left as noise to fill the silence.

“soonie.. doongie, dori-ah..” you quietly cooed at the active cats before wincing, another wave of cramps hitting you after trying to prop yourself up onto your elbow, quietly groaning.

you could see soonie’s head and his flickering ears over the curve of your thigh, his nose nudging against the skin. doongie being comfortably curled up beside your hip, little paws lightly massaging your aching belly. dori loafing over your chest, blocking most of your view as he contently purrs above you. they seemed more clingy than usual.

you carefully raise a hand and softly caressing the kitten laid atop of you. the pad of your thumb brushes against his fluffy forehead as you softly murmur. “my little babies.”

suddenly, notifications start going off beside you, extending an arm over dori’s laying form without disturbing his relaxation and grasping onto your vibrating phone. you turn the device on and a familiar contact name catches your eye, swiping your thumb up.

hi my darling

im almost home now with the things you asked for

a little smile tugs on the corners of your lips as you read his messages. your fingers tap along the keyboard, sending him quick responses.

thank you min

the kitties miss you

and i miss you too

drive safely

after tapping send, your arm falls back to your side and the device slips out of your grasp, onto the bedcovers. maybe because it was that time of the month, or maybe because of the felines surrounding you and the soothing sounds of their purrs, your eyelids start to droop.

☆★☆

feeling the bed dipping beside you and a gentle pair of hands along your lower abdomen as you start to wake up (you didn’t even realize that you’ve even fell asleep), fingers kneading against the clothed area. “..minho?” bleary eyed, quickly blinking and glancing up at the person who is staring fondly down at you. “how long have you been home?” your voice dry, raspy from your rest.

minho’s eyes avert away to glance at the ticking clock on the wall. “about an hour ago.” he quickly looks back at you, speaking in that tone he only uses with his kittens and you while tilting his head to the side. “how are you feeling, hm?”

you realize the lack of a fluffy, little furball on your chest as you lazily stretch your arms out, dori has moved elsewhere in the room, same with the other two cats. the heat pad you previously had over your stomach has disappeared too, even the television you accidentally left on turned off, the work of lee minho.

“i’m doing okay.. better at least.” your words were soft spoken falling from your lips, still a bit sleepy. “you should’ve woken me up, min.”

minho shakes his head, “you needed that rest, pretty.” the smile never leaving his lips, his fingers moving to intertwine with yours. “oh— and the things you wanted.. i stored them in the cupboard beneath the sink.”

you slightly lean upwards, minho lowers to meet your lips and you’re able to press a soft peck to the corner of his curved mouth. “thank you, you’re so sweet.” 

he only sweetly hums, grinning against your lips while his free hand lightly pats your stomach. minho looks at you affectionately before you’re hearing the bedroom door creak open, light peeking into the dimmed room. separate padding of paws against the wooden floors entering in, the noises of mews and trills nearing closer.

soonie jumps onto the mattress, he makes his way across the bedsheets and beside your leg, rubbing his fuzzy, little head against the flesh. doongie and dori follow suit, the two felines snuggling around you, purring. the grey kitty pawing at your lower abdomen like minho, as if playing with a yarnball.

“do they know?” you questionably asked minho while watching the purring cats fondly, stroking dori’s twitching ears. “before you came home, doong—doong was massaging me just like how you do.. the cats are even more touchy than usual.”

“well, somewhat. they’re able to smell it.” minho spoke as he softly chuckled, petting doongie’s head and the cat gladly nuzzles into his touch, meowing happily. “they just want to make you feel better.”

“aww. . that’s so sweet of them.” you murmured, before your smile quickly falters and staring at the man with a flummoxed expression. “what— wait, they're able to smell it?”

© wonbokkies on tumblr. please do not copy, repost, or plagiarize any of our works.

[writingforstraykids]

Omg what about super rough Seungmin and super sweet Felix taking care of their leader Channie 🥺 Kind of like a good cop bad cop situation? Mixed with praise and degradation all at once 🤭

Needy little pup

Pairing: Chan x Felix x Seungmin

Word Count: 5354

Warnings/Tags: sub!chan, soft!dom!lix, dom!seungmin, edging, oral/anal (chan receiving), chan gets called dumb boy/puppy/slut/baby boy (...), aftercare

A/N: Seungmin isn't super rough, since that isn't really what I write but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless🖤

Part of the 💌 event. More here

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Felix made his way inside the apartment calling out for his hyung loudly. Seungmin followed closely and frowned as they got no answer. “I thought he'd be home by now?”

“Maybe he's taking a shower,” Seungmin shrugged, and they made their way into the living room area. “Fucks sake, Channie,” he cursed, spotting him. Chan was sitting at the kitchen table, laptop in front of him and headphones on his head. He was asleep on the keyboard, headphones only partly in place. The way he was lying there, bent over and all cramped up, told them he once more fell asleep absolutely exhausted. 

Felix sighed softly and grabbed the blanket from the sofa, gently covering Chan with it. He took his headphones off for him and gently ran his hand through his hair. “Channie, baby?” he asked, and Chan stirred in his sleep. “Channie, come on, you need to go to bed.”

Chan whined softly and pushed himself up, moaning out in pain as his body protested against the movement. “Ow,” he whimpered, and Felix immediately pulled him into a hug, soothingly kissing his head. 

“Shh, it's okay, Channie love, take your time, okay?” he told him, and Chan nodded drowsily.

“Where's Minnie?” he asked softly, knowing they'd return back home together today. 

“I'm here,” Seungmin said and stepped closer, watching Chan firmly. “I told you to take a break.”

“I'm sorry,” Chan whispered, not expecting such a welcome. 

“No, you're not,” Seungmin shook his head. “You always say you're sorry, and then you keep on doing the same shit. You can't be,” he said, and Felix felt Chan growing small in his hold. 

“But-,” he tried, quickly shutting his mouth as Seungmin's gaze hardened. 

“You're starting to piss me off, neglecting yourself like that,” he said, and Felix tightened his hold on him, knowing how self-conscious Chan could get. “I told you to take a break and take a nap. And still, here you were, working once again. One day you'll pass out from exhaustion, and it'll be your own goddamn fault.”

“I wanted to nap but I felt lonely without you and-,” he tried weakly. 

“I don't care; if I tell you to sleep, you do as I say. You don't need me for that as well, do you?” he asked. 

That seemed to be the breaking point for Chan, whose eyes filled with tears rapidly. Felix felt him sink back against his chest, and his heart dropped as Chan tried to explain himself. “Yes, I do need you. I want to be held when I sleep. I want to cuddle and feel safe. I can't do that without you,” he rambled, big tears dropping down his cheeks. “I'm sorry I'm being a baby, but I need you for that.”

Seungmin's expression faltered, and he took a few steps forward, cupping his face. “Channie, baby, don't cry,” he said soothingly and leaned down, kissing his forehead. 

“No, you're being mean,” he protested and leaned closer to Felix. 

“He's worried, we both are,” Felix chimed in softly and kissed his head, rubbing his chest soothingly. “Minnie gets really worried about you, you know?”

“Mhm,” he sniffled tiredly. 

“I don't want my baby to work so hard all the time,” he explained. “It's not good for your health.” 

“Okay,” he nodded bravely. 

“Want my baby boy to be happy and healthy, yeah?” he asked, and Chan nodded quickly. “But it seems you’re such a little dummy you can't manage on your own.”

Chan shook his head and gazed up at him through his lashes. “I can't. Too hard.”

Seungmin ran his hand through his hair and tightened his grip on it, making him gasp. “Such a dumb little boy,” he whispered, leaning down and boring his eyes into Chan's blown chocolate orbs. 

“I'm your dumb boy,” he breathed out, leaning into the firm grip. 

“Chan,” Felix spoke up gently, sensing where this was going. “Let's go to bed, hm? Take a nice nap and cuddle.”

“No,” he pouted, still staring deep into Seungmin's eyes, squirming a little beneath his gaze. 

“No?” Felix asked, stunned. 

“I can't, not anymore,” he said and bit his lower lip. “I need you.”

“Need us?” Seungmin smirked and leaned in closer. “Is my boy so needy for love it's enough when I call you a dummy?”

“Mhm,” Chan hummed and pressed his legs together, hands planted in his lap, trying to conceal how hard he had gotten. “‘M so needy.”

Felix wrecked his plan by replacing his hands with his own, gasping softly as he felt it. Chan whimpered at the bare touch, trying to get more and lifting his hips a little. “Aw, such a needy pretty baby,” he whispered adoringly and kissed his cheek, making Chan hum sweetly. “Want us to take care of our hardworking baby boy?”

“Please,” he nodded eagerly, and Felix smirked. Chan looked back at Seungmin and gulped softly. “Please, hyung.”

“You do know I won't go easy on you? Not after you've not taken care of yourself again?” he asked, and Chan nodded. “Use your words.”

“Y-Yes, hyung, I know I've been a bad dumb boy,” he stuttered and blushed furiously at Seungmin's intense gaze. 

“Mhm, yes you were,” he said and raised his eyebrow as he noticed Chan trying to grind up against Felix's hand. “Huh, needy little pup.”

Chan choked on his breath and squirmed visibly this time. He bit his lower lip hard, nodding with wide eyes. “I'm your needy little pup.”

With Chan's admission hanging thick in the air, Felix could feel the tension and need radiating from both of his partners. He smiled gently, his fingers tightening around Chan, holding him close and secure. “Well then, I think it’s time we take good care of our baby,” Felix murmured, his voice low and reassuring.

Chan's response was immediate, a soft, desperate moan escaping his lips as he nodded vigorously. “Please, babe,” he whispered, his voice laced with yearning and a deep-set need for their affection and control.

Seungmin observed the interaction with a discerning eye, his expression softening. “Alright, baby,” he agreed, his voice dipping into a soothing yet commanding tone that made Chan shiver in anticipation. “But first, let’s get you into bed. Properly.”

Felix helped Chan to his feet, supporting him as they made their way to the bedroom. Chan leaned heavily against Felix, his body still weak from exhaustion but buzzing with excitement. Seungmin followed behind, his gaze never leaving Chan, protective and intensely focused.

Once in the bedroom, Felix and Seungmin worked together to ease Chan onto the bed. They moved with a practiced ease, each action deliberate and filled with an unspoken promise of care and attention. Chan, for his part, submitted to their ministrations, his eyes heavy but alight with trust and affection for his partners.

“Let’s get these off,” Felix said softly, tugging at Chan’s clothes. Chan lifted his arms, allowing Felix to pull his shirt over his head while Seungmin carefully removed his socks. Soon, Chan was lying in just his pants, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his shallow, excited breaths.

Seungmin sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand brushing gently against Chan's cheek. “You need to be careful, baby. You push yourself too hard,” he chided, but his touch was tender.

“I know, hyung,” Chan replied, his voice small. “I’ll try harder. I just... get caught up in it all.”

“We know,” Felix interjected, sitting on Chan’s other side. He ran a soothing hand down Chan’s arm. “But that’s why we’re here, to make sure you don’t have to go through it alone, okay? We take care of each other.”

Chan nodded, his eyes moist with gratitude and something akin to relief. “Thank you, babe. I... I love you both so much.”

“We love you too,” Seungmin replied, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Chan’s forehead. He then looked at Felix, signaling a silent conversation they had shared many times before, one of mutual concern and shared responsibility for their partner.

Turning his attention back to Chan, Felix’s expression softened. “Now, how about we make you feel really good? Let us take all the stress away, hm?” he suggested, his tone light but laced with an undercurrent of desire.

Chan’s response was immediate and eager. “Yes, please,” he breathed out, his eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered himself to the caring hands of his lovers.

Seungmin and Felix exchanged a look, a silent agreement passing between them. They began to move together, their touches growing more deliberate. Seungmin’s hands massaged Chan’s shoulders, kneading the tense muscles with skilled fingers, while Felix’s hands wandered lower, tracing patterns over Chan’s sensitive skin.

The room filled with the soft sounds of their movements, the quiet murmurs of encouragement and love, and Chan’s occasional moans of pleasure. Felix gently unbuttoned his pants and eased them down his legs. Seungmin didn’t waste another second, planting his hand firmly above the prominent bulge between Chan’s legs. He started rubbing him in circular motions, only parted by a layer of fabric. Chan moaned heavily, hips rutting up against his relieving touch. 

Seungmin’s hand found Chan’s neck, and he stared him down warningly. “Did I say you can move?”

“N-No,” he stammered, biting his lower lip hard as he tried to stop himself from squirming. 

“Such a needy little puppy, hm?” Seungmin asked, amused, watching Chan’s eyes roll back as Felix suddenly sucked on his nipple with an obscene groan. He reached out for Felix, gently fondling his hair, fingers tightening their grip on it and guiding him to Chan’s other nipple, eliciting a similar reaction. “He hasn’t even started, and you’re already whining like the little slut you are.”

Chan felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment at Seungmin’s words, glancing up at him through his lashes. “Missed you, hyung,” he admitted barely above a whisper.

“Yeah? How much?” he asked, and Chan pressed up against him in response.

“So much,” he admitted, sounding a little strained as Seungmin pushed him back down hard. 

“Minnie,” Felix chimed in sweetly, nuzzling his nose against his cheek, smiling at him. “I want to suck his pretty dick,” he said, Chan choking on his breath. “Can you keep him still in your lap?”

Seungmin chuckled at the thought and cupped Felix’s cheek, giving him a long, firm kiss. “Of course, love.” Seungmin got situated against the headboard, pulling a now naked and leaking Chan onto his lap. Chan leaned back against him, hiding his face in his neck for a moment. Seungmin knew when to push him and when to reassure him of how much he loved him. He soothingly rubbed his thighs, planting a kiss on his hair, and smiled as Chan nuzzled deeper into his neck. “Alright, little pup?” he asked softly, and Chan hummed in response. “Words, baby,” he reminds him kindly. 

“Yes, hyung,” he nodded quickly, breath hitching as Seungmin’s strong hands pulled his thighs apart, presenting him to Felix, who licked his lips at the sight. 

“Oh, my pretty boy,” Felix cooed sweetly, getting situated between his legs. “I’ll make you feel so good, okay?”

“Okay,” he breathed out needily. He knew how talented Felix was with his mouth, and the thought of having his pretty lips wrapped around his dick now made him dizzy. 

Felix leaned forward, his eyes locked on Chan's, filled with a mixture of affection and lust. He began with gentle kisses along Chan's inner thighs, eliciting soft moans from Chan, who trembled under the touch. Gradually, Felix’s kisses neared his throbbing dick, his breath warm against the sensitive skin.

Chan, desperate for more, shifted subtly, trying to direct Felix's head to where he needed him most. However, Seungmin tightened his grip around Chan's waist, a firm reminder of his earlier command to stay still. "What did I say, Chan?" Seungmin’s voice was stern, yet there was an undeniable undertone of care.

"I... I need to stay still," Chan managed to say, his voice shaky with unfulfilled desire.

"That's right," Seungmin confirmed, his hand stroking Chan’s side soothingly, even as his tone remained authoritative. "You need to wait until we say you can move."

Felix smiled up at Chan, his eyes glinting with mischief and understanding. He finally gave in to Chan's silent pleas, enveloping him in the warm wetness of his mouth. Chan gasped, his back arching instinctively, but Seungmin's arm around his waist kept him from moving too much.

Felix’s movements were skilled, a perfect blend of teasing licks and deep, steady strokes that had Chan writhing in pleasure. Every flick of his tongue was calculated, aimed at driving Chan closer to the edge without letting him tip over.

Seungmin, meanwhile, kept his arms securely around Chan, holding him in place. His touch was both a restraint and a reassurance, grounding Chan as he teetered on the brink of overwhelming sensation. Every time Chan’s body tensed, ready to chase the release he craved, Seungmin’s grip tightened, his voice a whisper in Chan’s ear. “Stay still, baby. Not yet.”

The denial was torturous in its sweetness, and Chan found himself caught in a storm of pleasure and frustration. He wanted to thrust into the warm, inviting mouth that enveloped him, to chase the release that Felix was so expertly keeping just out of reach. But Seungmin’s firm command and unyielding hold forced him to surrender, to accept the pleasure in the exact measure and pace that his lovers chose to give.

Chan’s breaths became ragged, his whines and moans filling the room as Felix continued his ministrations, each movement designed to tease and draw it out longer. Just as he felt he might finally reach his climax, Felix pulled away, leaving him aching and desperate.

“No, please, I need…” Chan gasped, the unfinished plea hanging in the air.

Seungmin’s lips brushed against his ear, his voice firm yet affectionate. “What did I say? You need to wait, baby. You can take it. I know you can.” His hand trailed down Chan’s chest, fingertips lightly grazing the sensitive skin, a contrast to the denied pleasure.

Chan’s frustration was palpable, his body trembling with the effort to obey. He nodded, biting his lip to stifle his protests, his eyes glistening with a mix of need and trust.

Felix smiled up at him, his eyes gleaming with mischief and adoration. “You’re doing so well, love. Just a bit longer, okay? Let’s see how much you can take.” With that, he leaned in again, taking Chan deeply, his hands gently massaging Chan’s hips as he resumed his slow, deliberate pace.

As Felix worked him over, Chan felt the familiar coil of heat building again, more intense this time, harder to ignore. He moaned loudly, pleading through his body’s movements, seeking friction, seeking release. Just as he was about to tip over, Felix stopped once more, pulling back with a slick pop.

Chan let out a whimper of protest, his body tensed in unfulfilled need. “Hyung, please, I can’t-”

Seungmin tightened his embrace, his hand sliding up to gently cover Chan’s mouth. “Shh, baby, trust us. You’re almost there. We’re going to take care of you, but you need to wait. Just a bit longer.” His words were soothing, a balm to the burning need within Chan.

Felix looked on with a soft expression, his own desire evident but controlled. “You’re so beautiful like this, Chan. So desperate and yet so patient. It’s breathtaking.”

Chan, caught in a whirlwind of emotion and sensation, could only nod, his eyes locked on Felix’s. The trust and love in the room were overwhelming and comforting even as he was denied what he sought.

Felix's movements were slow and teasing, building Chan's pleasure but carefully avoiding pushing him over the edge. He swirled his tongue, sucked gently, then pulled back to blow cool air over the wetness he had created, making Chan whimper in frustration and need.

As Felix continued his torturous ministrations, Seungmin leaned in close to Chan's ear. "You’re doing so well, baby," he whispered, his voice both soothing and seductive. "But remember, no cumming until we say."

Chan nodded, biting his lip hard to keep from moaning too loudly. The pleasure was intense, spiraling inside him, but the restriction held him back, teetering on the brink of overwhelming ecstasy.

Felix sensed Chan's growing desperation and paused, looking up at Seungmin with a questioning gaze. Seungmin gave a slight nod, and Felix withdrew, leaving Chan aching and panting. "Not yet, baby," Felix murmured, his voice thick with promise. "You need to wait a little longer."

Chan groaned, both in disappointment and in arousal, his body aching for release. Seungmin stroked his hair, a comforting gesture that helped Chan focus on the sensation rather than his frustration. "Focus, baby.”

The denial only intensified Chan’s feelings, the wait making the eventual climax promise to be more explosive. Seungmin and Felix exchanged another look, this one filled with affection and a hint of admiration for Chan’s resilience.

Felix moved again; this time, his touches were less about teasing and more about comforting, his hands massaging Chan’s hips, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin of his abdomen, making Chan squirm with a mix of relief and need.

After several long moments, Felix looked up at Seungmin, silently asking if it was time. Seungmin assessed Chan, his eyes softening as he took in the flushed cheeks and the desperate look in his eyes. "One more time," Seungmin decided, his voice gentle yet unwavering. "He can wait a bit longer. Can't you, baby?"

Chan, overwhelmed and edged beyond his limits, could only nod, accepting the decision with a mixture of exasperation and obedience. Felix resumed his place; this time, his actions carried a hint of solace, as if he was rewarding Chan for his patience.

As Felix lavished attention on him once again, Chan felt the build-up even more intense than before. He looked at Seungmin, pleading with his eyes as tears brimmed them. Seungmin watched him, clearly proud of Chan’s endurance but also moved by his need. "Alright," Seungmin finally said, his voice breaking with a mix of command and concession. "You can let go now, baby."

With Seungmin’s permission, Chan felt a rush of relief flood through him. Felix’s touch, now encouraging and deep, guided him through the waves of his climax. Chan cried out, a sound filled with gratification and release, as he finally let go, his entire body trembling with the intensity of his release.

Afterward, Felix gently cleaned him up, his touches tender and caring, while Seungmin held him close, cradling him against his chest. "We’ve got you, Chan. Always," Felix murmured, kissing his forehead. Seungmin nodded, pressing a kiss into Chan’s hair.

Chan, spent and content, nestled deeper into their embrace. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with gratitude. It didn’t take long and he got restless, shifting on Seungmin’s lap. “Hyungie?” he asked innocently.

“Yes?” he asked, smiling at the title Chan used so freely with him whenever they got intimate.

“Need you so bad,” he admitted and bit his lower lip. “Want you to use my hole until you feel all good,” he said, and Seungmin fought back down a moan. 

“Really? My little pup wants to be fucked this badly?” he asked, amused, and Chan nodded shyly, blushing heavily. “Want Lix to prepare you for me?”

“Please,” Chan nodded eagerly at the thought of Felix’s fingers and tongue working him open. “Please, babe,” he said, looking at Felix, who smiled fondly.

“Of course, my sweet boy,” he assured him, fondling his hair. “Get on your arms and knees for me, yeah?” he asked, and Chan did immediately.

Seungmin laughed, smacking his butt with a wide grin. “Such an eager pup.”

Chan positioned himself as instructed, his breath hitching with anticipation and a flush of excitement coloring his cheeks. Felix admired the view for a moment, his gaze appreciative and warm. Then, with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with Seungmin's earlier rough slap, Felix positioned himself behind Chan, his hands gently caressing Chan's sides.

"Relax, love," Felix whispered soothingly, his fingers tracing small circles on Chan's lower back. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the air charged with a mix of tenderness and desire. Felix leaned down, pressing soft kisses along Chan's spine, each touch light as a feather yet burning with intensity.

Chan let out a soft moan, his body responding eagerly to Felix's gentle ministrations. "Felix, babe..." he murmured, his voice painted with need and affection.

Hearing his name uttered with such vulnerability, Felix felt a surge of protectiveness and love. He continued his trail of kisses, moving lower until he reached the curves that he had come to know so well. There, he paused, glancing up at Seungmin, who watched them with a look of intensity mixed with affection.

"Go ahead, love," Seungmin said, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down Chan's spine. "Prepare him well."

Felix nodded, his hands now gently spreading Chan's cheeks, exposing him completely. He chuckled as Chan clenched around nothing, watching as Chan shivered at the sound and pushed back slightly, seeking more contact. With a smile, Felix complied, his tongue darting out to delicately lap at the exposed skin.

Chan gasped, his hands clutching at the sheets, knuckles turning white. The sensation of Felix's tongue was gentle yet insistent, circling and teasing before delving deeper. Felix took his time, savoring the taste and the way Chan squirmed under his touch, his sounds of pleasure music to Felix's ears.

As Felix's tongue worked magic, his hands got busy as well. One hand traveled forward to grasp Chan's hand, intertwining their fingers, a silent promise of care and connection. The other hand remained on Chan's hip, holding him steady, guiding him back onto Felix’s eager tongue.

The room was filled with the soft sounds of Felix's movements and Chan's responsive moans. Felix was thorough, ensuring that every nerve was alight with pleasure, preparing Chan not just physically but emotionally, weaving a tapestry of sensation that was both comforting and arousing.

Meanwhile, Seungmin observed them both, his expression one of deep affection and undisguised desire. The sight of Felix, so tender and attentive, coupled with Chan's unabashed pleasure, was incredibly arousing. Seungmin's hand moved over his own body, tracing his skin, excited for what was to come.

"Ready for more, baby?" Felix finally asked his voice husky with his own desire as he looked up from his task. His lips glistened slightly, curling into a smile.

Chan nodded eagerly, almost desperately. "Yes, please, babe, more," he pleaded, his voice thick with need.

Felix rose, his lips finding Chan's in a deep, possessive kiss that left them both breathless. "You're doing so well," Felix murmured against Chan's lips. Then, glancing at Seungmin, he added, "He's ready for you, Seungminnie."

Seungmin moved forward, his presence commanding as he took Felix's place behind Chan. He ran his hands over the work Felix had done, appreciating the readiness and the invitation of it all. Then, positioning himself at Chan's entrance, he looked at Chan through the mirror positioned in front of them. "Look at us," he commanded softly.

Chan lifted his head, catching Seungmin's gaze in the mirror. The eye contact was intense, buzzing with unspoken promises and desires. Seungmin entered him slowly, savoring the tightness, the heat, and the way Chan's eyes fluttered with the mix of pain and pleasure.

"You're perfect, Chan," Seungmin murmured, beginning to move with a slow, deliberate rhythm that was both a claim and a caress. Chan moaned, the sound a mix of satisfaction and longing, his body moving instinctively to meet Seungmin’s thrusts.

Felix, not wanting to feel left out, positioned himself in front of Chan, offering his lips and his body for Chan to hold onto. Chan reached out, pulling Felix into a kiss that was as needy as it was loving, their bodies melding together in a dance of desire and fulfillment as he collapsed on top of him.

“Can I touch you?” he asked Felix breathlessly, who gave him permission with a quick nod. He spit into his hand, reaching down between their bodies and wrapping it around Felix’s dick. Felix was leaking into his hand, worked up from all the tension before, and it didn’t take long for Chan to stroke him sloppily.

Seungmin smacked his bum suddenly, pulling a pleasured yelp from him. “Such a good pup, taking me so well,” he told him, pounding into him harshly. 

Chan arched his back, pushing back against him with needy, loud moans, and buried his face in Felix’s chest. Felix desperately fucked back into Chan’s fist, soothingly fondling Chan’s hair as the older fell apart above him. He could feel Chan starting to drool onto his skin, jaw slack with obscenely loud moans, voice cracking repeatedly. It didn't take long, and he was spilling down Chan’s fingers, painting their stomachs with a loud groan of Chan’s name.

Seungmin's grip tightened as he continued to thrust, each movement forceful yet calculated. The room echoed with the sounds of their passion, a symphony of gasps, moans, and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin.

Chan's cries grew louder and more urgent as the intensity escalated. He clung to Felix, his fingers digging into his skin, seeking comfort as much as he sought pleasure. Felix, ever attentive, kissed Chan's forehead drowsily, whispering words of encouragement and love, and wrapped his hand around his dick to return the favor. "Such a good boy," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm amidst the storm of sensations.

Seungmin watched them through fluttering eyes, his actions unyielding but his heart swelling with affection. He admired the strength and the vulnerability Chan displayed, the way he opened himself to their love and control. "Look at you, so beautiful," he praised, his voice low and husky, pushing Chan further into the abyss of pleasure.

The balance of tenderness and dominance, the intertwining of pain and pleasure, pushed Chan toward the brink. His body trembled under the simultaneous assault of Felix's gentle strokes and Seungmin's relentless thrusts. The overwhelming mixture of sensations left him gasping, his mind foggy with need.

"Please," Chan keened, his voice breaking as he looked up at Felix with pleading eyes. "I need..."

Felix nodded, understanding his unspoken request. "Let go, sweet boy. We've got you," he assured him, his tone firm yet full of warmth. With one hand, Felix caressed Chan's cheek while the other continued to work him towards his climax.

“Let go, my needy little pup,” Seungmin added, grip on his hips turning almost bruising. Seungmin felt the shift, the tightening around him, and he slowed, allowing Chan the moment he needed. His thrusts became more deliberate, each one hitting his prostate with force. "That’s it, let it all out," he coaxed, his breath hot against Chan's ear.

With a cry that tore from his throat, Chan surrendered to the sensations, his body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over him. He gripped Felix tighter, his other hand reaching back to clutch at Seungmin, anchoring himself between the two as he rode the waves of his climax, whimpering loudly. After the storm, the calm settled gently. Seungmin gradually stilled, his hands running soothingly over Chan’s hips, grounding him. Felix leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to Chan’s lips, a silent testament to the depth of their connection. Seungmin pulls out with a groan, painting Chan’s reddened cheeks and back with his release. He marvels at the sight of his cum dribbling all over the red imprint his hand left.

Chan, spent and content, collapsed against Felix, his breathing ragged but slowing. Seungmin moved carefully, his movements gentle as he shifted to lie beside them, wrapping his arms around both. The three of them tangled together, a perfect puzzle of limbs and satisfied sighs.

"We love you," Seungmin whispered into the quiet, his voice a soft rumble against Chan's ear. Felix nodded, pressing another kiss to Chan's temple, his eyes reflecting the same deep affection.

"I love you both so much," Chan murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with emotion. He snuggled deeper into their embrace, the warmth and weight of their bodies a comforting presence.

After some time, Seungmin and Felix got to work. Felix changed the sheets, opened a window, and helped Seungmin get Chan back to bed once he was done cleaning him up. He retrieved a bottle of soothing lotion from the bedside table, the kind specially formulated for sensitive skin that could help with the marks of passion left behind. With tender care, Felix poured a generous amount into his palm, warming it between his hands before applying it to Chan’s body.

Starting at the shoulders, Felix’s hands moved skillfully, his fingers pressing into the tight muscles with just enough pressure to release the knots without causing discomfort. He worked the lotion into the skin, paying special attention to the areas where Seungmin’s grip might have been too firm. Every stroke was a message of care, a silent apology for any pain, and a promise of tenderness.

Seungmin, watching Felix’s methodical movements, felt a swell of affection for both of his partners. He couldn’t help but reach out to brush a stray lock of hair from Chan’s forehead, his touch gentle. “You okay, baby?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

Chan, his eyes half-closed in relaxation and fatigue, nodded slowly. “Feels nice,” he murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. The warmth of the lotion, combined with Felix’s soothing motions, pulled him further into a state of blissful drowsiness.

Encouraged by Chan’s response, Felix continued his work, moving down along the spine. Each inch received its attention, and he massaged the lower back where Chan was usually tense. Chan’s occasional sighs of relief were a clear indicator that Felix’s efforts were not in vain.

After finishing his back, Felix signaled Seungmin to help turn Chan gently onto his back. Together, they maneuvered him with care, ensuring he was comfortable before Felix resumed his task. Now facing upward, Chan’s chest and abdomen were exposed, showing some faint red marks left by their earlier activities.

Felix’s hands now worked over these new areas, his fingers lightly skimming over the sensitive skin. He applied the lotion, which had a cooling effect, to each mark. Seungmin watched intently, his eyes softening at the sight of such gentle care. He leaned over to plant a soft kiss on Chan’s temple, murmuring, “Better?”

With the tension easing out of his body and the soothing presence of his lovers enveloping him, Chan nodded, his eyes fluttering shut. “Much better, thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Satisfied that Chan was feeling better, Felix capped the lotion and set it aside. He then settled next to Chan, drawing the blanket over all three of them. Seungmin, on the other side, wrapped his arm around Chan, pulling him close. In this secure embrace, Chan felt cherished and protected, the peace a stark contrast to the moments of roughness of earlier.

Seungmin’s fingers traced mindless patterns on Chan’s arm, each touch reinforcing their bond. “We’ve got you,” he said softly. Felix, feeling the weight of the moment, joined in, his hand finding Seungmin’s under the blanket. Their fingers intertwined, a physical manifestation of their united front in caring for Chan.

As the room settled into a comfortable silence, the only sounds were the synchronized breathing of the three men and the occasional soft whisper of fabric as they adjusted in their embrace. This was their sanctuary, a place where each of them could be vulnerable, strong, loved, and loving.

Chan, nestled between the warmth of his partners, felt the last of any residual tension melt away. The care they had shown, both in intensity and gentleness, filled him with an overwhelming sense of love and belonging. As sleep began to claim him, his last conscious thought was of gratitude for the love and safety that enveloped him, a testament to the complex but unbreakable bonds they shared.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves

[sharksupermacy]

The Feels

The Feels- haerin x lee! trainee! reader

synopsis: i just wanted to make a follow up about on your mind

genre: fluff, timeskip, haerin being a cat, reader being a ghibli fan but specifically just a my neighbor Totoro fan, haerin being low key tired of trader flirting and yet still likes it, boo schedules y’all let haey/n be together, reader actually having short term memory 0.6k words ish?

a day couldn’t get better than this.

it was a weekend. you had spent a solid three hours asleep now cuddling your sister group member or more commonly now known as your girlfriend behind many locked doors of the entertainment industry. you could feel the warmth of her hug around your waist when waking up. the window has let in the warm sunlight making your girlfriend cuddle closer to inhale your scent. you turned to face your sleeping girlfriend.

she couldn’t be this beautiful the pink hue of the sunset tinting entirety of the room. you couldn’t help admire your girlfriend… haerin. you felt yourself naturally so entranced with the girl who was the same age as you. how could she just be this pretty and yet so different from you. your hand naturally weaving into her hair running through the intrinsically soft fibers as you continued to admire her beauty from upclose.

“what are you doing?” was the question that fell from your girlfriend who you thought was sleeping.

“just admiring you hae. you should fall back asleep.” you suggested to the black hair girl as you slowly stop moving your hand in her hair. as if being a cat caught in an act of doing something wrong. (ikr ironic since hae’s a cat-)

“a little hard when someone is petting my hair and is staring at my face from 6 inches away.” she quipped back as she got up from her sleeping position to take a peak at the sunset.

“right. sorry.” a quick apology fell upon your lips to apologize to the kang as you wrapped your body around hers with the blanket. gently cuddling her as you let your chin settled onto the shorter girl to look at the sunset. “if it makes you feel better there’s a sunset.”

“yet it still reminds me of how yet your going to leave soon.” she jested.

“time is fleeting but your beauty isn’t-“ and that was the phrase that had landed a smack in the face with a pillow.

“stop saying cheesy lines. flirt.” your girlfriend said seriously but you could see the soft smile on her face and a faint pink tinge across her cheek. maybe it could be the sunset, who knows. you lingered on her face for a second before looking at the sunset with her again.

“do you want to watch a movie after we have dinner with your members and my sister?” you said intertwining your hands over her hands which seemed to fit ever too perfectly in your opinion.

“depends. what are we watching” the shorter girl responds.

“what about my neighbor to-“ you suggested.

“respectfully honey… we’ve watch that two times alone… today…” she cuts you off.

“then what you like to watch. we have the entirety of the rest of the day after dinner… and my netflix or should i say my parents netflix account.” you nonchalantly stated as you played with her hands in yours.

“maybe… La La Land…?” the catlike girl recommended.

“maybe…” you muttered off.

after dinner

you had sat comfortably on the bed booting up your computer in haerin bed once again. scrolling through the account and the light clacking of the keyboard filling the silence of the dorm room.

“did you find the movie?” a gentle voice asked at the door.

“what movie are we watching again?” you asked as you looked away from the laptop to meet with eyes with your girlfriend who was wearing your hoodie.

“la la land,” she reminded you having a sip of her tea before carefully placing it on the table beside the bed. you had type the movie into the search bar and it came up a purple background alongside two characters who seemed like they were dancing.

“i can’t believe you love cheesy stuff like this,” you mumbled underneath your breath as a small frown forms on haerin lips. she gently pinches your exposed arms as a warning. “sorry… you fell for my corny flirting.” you apologized.

“you better be…” she said hugging you from behind as you passed her the other headphones.

both of you had settled in laying against her soft pillows up against the head rest of her bed as the laptop was between you both on your laps. your arm laid on her shoulder as she used your arm as her personal pillow to lean her head against. it was nice… a perfect way to end the day.

when would this type of day would occur again? hopefully soon.

a small smiled had found its way to your lips as the ends of your lips curl up ever so slightly. you scoot closer to your girlfriend who was entranced in the romance musical as the orange hue of her room lights surrounded both her and you.

author notes: sorry y’all for being dead for so long… not me ghosting you guys for a good 5 months… I’m good. Just school and stuff got too much… should be coming back soon with more stuff. also yall with 300?! while im away- thanks so much like fr tho-

[rotdistressxox]

Headcanons: The Ghoulettes + Mountain first meeting / Developing a crush on you

Part 1

Here's part 2 :p IM SO SORRY MOUNTAIN GHOUL ENJOYERS HERE'S YOUR FOOD

Cumulus

• She immediately stands out to you because of her long, curly, white hair. She flashed you a smile and welcomed you to the team.

• The more you got to know her, the more she stood out as the mom-friend of the group.

• Bascically adopts you into the ghoul-friend group. Anyone says anything bad about you will have the 'lioness' to deal with.

• You help her with practicing piano and keyboard. She likes to harmonize with your voice, and sometimes she sings along.

• Winter arrives and the fire ghouls are usually working to heat up the ministry. She invites you to cuddle, since that's what ghouls do to preserve body temperature.

• Presing your body close to hers, you tuck your head under her chin. She whispers an 'Oh my' as she feels her heart beat getting faster. She purred as you fell asleep in her arms.

• Swiss wanted to join, but she growled and swiped at him. "My bad"

• That's a thing that became more common between you two, even if it wasn't cold outside anymore.

• She starts to fuss over you more like she's your wife, which you jokingly call her.

Cirrus

• Is pretty similar to Mist, the only thing that's different is how quickly her mood changes. It's super scary

• At first she was stone faced like the previous Era of ghouls, but as soon as you said hi she was smiles and rainbows.

• Was the one who seemed the most trust worthy at the time, so she's your main ghoul to talk to.

• Pretty playful and flirty, like a mix of Aurora and Swiss. Loves it when you pet her or scratch under her chin.

• Started to feel more attracted to you once she realized her attraction to you wasn't just friendship. It was romantic. Pretty simple when she came to terms with it.

• Overthinks her crush. Is it real? Is it just ghoul hormones or your pheromones? Does she just want you, or does she want all of you?

• Gets jealous pretty easily. Doesn't like it when the Ghouls flirt with you, or you give them attention.

• Almost starts a fight with another ghoul because they stared little too long at you

Aurora

• Is bascically the stereotype of that one girl that wants/ is friends with everyone.

• Very excited to meet you, shakes your hand vigorously. Introduces you to the rest of the ghoulettes instead of letting them do it.

• "Yeah, Aurora's one of the newer ghouls" Cirrus tells you.

• Wants to hang out with you 24/7. You are her bestie afterall! Sleepovers, making friendship bracelets, gossip or shit talking. Her personality is heavily inspired by chickflicks.

• Her hair is naturally a very light green which fades into a dark blue at her roots. One day she decides she wants to dye some strands a neon pink. You help her ofc.

• You had changed into a shirt that was way too big on you, it slid down your shoulders and it took every ounce of her willpower not to shove her nose in her neck. The smell of a human was irresistible to a ghoul.

• "Shit, I can't get this one spot" you sit on her lap and hold her face while you use the brush to finish the bangs. Her ears turned red and her tail wrapped around your leg.

• "Uh, Rora. You good?" "Yeah totally!"

• Didn't keep it a secret that she had a crush on you when talking to the other Ghouls.

• "Ugh I want them so bad" "(Reader) and I already have 27 children in the scenario in my head" "I would kill for them ngl"

Mist

• The most imposing ghoulette, despite her stature.

• Doesn't say anything the first time you see eachother. She only stares you down, watching your every move.

• She's so serious at first, so you start teasing her. The Era 1-3 ghouls have darker skin, so a way you could tell she was blushing was when her cheeks turned a dark purple.

• Doesn't want to admit it, like it all. But she loves it when you tease her.

• "Where's (Reader)?" "They're in the left wing working today. Why?" "Nothing, if you tell (Reader) I asked about them I will end you"

• Not good at emotions. At all. Conflicted all the time because she fell in love so quickly. She has never been in love. Never.

• Refuses to talk about it with the others so she doesn't ruin her 'tough chick' persona.

• One time you snuck up behind her and poked her waist. She let out the cutest whine/yelp you had ever heard. She chased you around though.

• Also very protective

Mountain

• Oh where do I begin.

• Scares the living shit out of you because of how tall he is, by accident because bro just appeared out of the ground and dusted the dirt off his shoulders.

• Doesn't usually interact with the siblings of sin if at all. He's afraid of them

• Is actually very sweet though, he thinks you're a little weird at first. Not a bad weird, just very unusual.

• Stuff you say is usually hilarious. Your humor shocks him at first, but he gets used to it

• Mountain is usually very stressed, there's a lot going on in his head. Practice, more practice, duties, mental health. But for some reason, the loud thoughts in his head disappear when you say "hello"

• When you're not looking, he'll put flowers in your hair until you notice them.

• Ofcourse he knows he's in love, the earth ghouls at usually the ones most aware of emotion.

• When he follows you around the lawns and the gardens, a small patch of purple flowers are left in his footsteps

[phoenix-writer2]

🅼🅸🅳🅽🅸🅶🅷🆃 🅲🆄🅳🅳🅻🅴🆂

synopsis: Kenma loves to cuddle with you

pairing: Kenma Kozume x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, cuddle, late night, no prof reading, kind of short i think

Note: I just had this idea about Kenma and thought why not writing it. Enjoy it♥️

The room was silent. The moon shone like hundreds of stars at once, illuminating the large room with its healing light. Neon lights hung on the walls on the right side of the room, on the left side the lights were off.

A bed stood against the left wall. Fluffy pillows and blankets were fluffed up and a figure was buried underneath. Hair spread across the pillow, you breathed in and out deeply, listening to the all-too-familiar sounds of key clicks and mouse movements. You couldn't sleep, even though the clock screamed painfully in your ear that you had to get up and go to school again in a few hours. But still your head couldn't shut off. You turn your head and squint your eyes against the bright light of the screen. You watched as the person in front of the computer skillfully operated the keys and mastered the video game inside with precision.

Blond, black hair was tied into an unpresentable bun and the oversized sweater was pulled over her head without care or order. The light from the blue LEDs enveloped his body and made him look almost angelic. You would never have thought that this genius in front of you at the gaming table would one day be your boyfriend. Kenma always seemed like the person who never wanted anything to do with love and relationships.

He was more interested in volleyball and video games. But this was actually the reality. For almost two years now, there was something else that kept the bored Kenma alive, something he became addicted to. And that was you. Your voice, your warmth, your laugh, simply your whole presence. he had fallen head over heels in love with you and this love was growing stronger day by day.

You always knew what he needed. Whether it was affection or his rest. You were always there for him. And he couldn't be happier to have you. “Can't sleep?” His voice lit up the room. You hummed. “Too much on my mind,” you mumble and pull the blanket even further over your body. Kenma hummed. Fingers pressed the keys of his keyboard and you could faintly hear the voices of his teammates through his heasset. With tired eyes, you watched as the word “Winner” was written on the large screen.

Kenma said something into the microphone of his confidant and took the device from his ears. Your ears picked up the sound of movement and you noticed how the lights diminished. Finally, the humming of the computer stopped and there was silence in the room. A few seconds later, you heard footsteps coming to the bed and the blanket being lifted.

You sigh contentedly as you feel Kenma's warmth next to you. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you to his chest and rubbed circles on the lower part of your back with his index finger. Your body immediately relaxed in his embrace. “Get some sleep,” Kenma whispered in your ear. “I'm not going anywhere.” And with those words, the fog came over you, the smell of apple pie lingered in your nose and you sank into his embrace.

A short time later, kenma also fell asleep with you safe in his arms, as if he was afraid you wouldn't be here when he woke up. Neither of you noticed the moon, which looked down on you with its silver light like a smile and gave you its blessing. For him, you really were the perfect couple. And midnight cuddles were part of such a relationship.

Do not copy my work!

[miryum]

"Halloween IV"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy’s relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

“Sarge?” Y/n knocked on his desk with a look of troubled guilt on her face.

“Yeah, L/n?” 

“So, hypothetically, if, maybe,” Y/n didn’t meet Dick’s eye, hands fumbling around. 

“Spit it out, L/n,” Dick said sternly and raised a brow. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Y/n defended herself loudly. “Okay, so- how do I phrase this?- you know the saying ‘let sleeping dogs lie’? Well, what should I do if you replace the dog with a human and the sleeping with potential death…?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dick stared at her and his hands stilled over his keyboard. 

“I think a perp might’ve died,” Y/n blurted out. 

A couple minutes later, Wayne, Dick, and Y/n stood in the viewing room of an interrogation room, staring at an old, wrinkled man who was slumped over in his chair. A cane was propped up against the table. “I picked him up for attempted robbery. He was moving so slowly that he wasn’t even out the door by the time I got there. I was worried he was gonna die in the back of my car. I tried to make the interrogation room as comfy as possible but now I think I might’ve made it too comfortable… I can’t tell if he’s breathing or not.”

“What do we do?” Dick slowly asked Wayne.

“Are you sure he’s dead, L/n?” Wayne asked. Y/n shrugged in response. “Go make sure,” he commanded. 

Y/n rolled her eyes and mumbled something about Dick should go do it, but she entered the interrogation room, glared at the two-way mirror, and knelt down next to the old man. “Sir?” Her voice was calming and quiet. “Sir, are you awake?” The man didn’t move. Y/n looked back at the two-way mirror, wondering what she should do next. She gently poked the man in the shoulder and repeated her question. When the man still didn’t respond, Y/n awkwardly placed her pointer and middle finger on his wrist, trying to find his pulse. She searched for a couple moments before waving to the mirror. Wayne and Dick entered and she announced, “I think he’s dead…” 

Y/n watched as two officers slowly draped a white sheet over the old man. Jason stood next to her, an arm around her shoulder. “You gonna be okay?” he asked softly. 

Y/n shrugged. “I’ve obviously seen death before but… this hits different for some reason. I mean, in my cruiser, he was telling me stories about meeting his wife after serving in World War II. He even offered me a little chocolate.” Jason hummed and rubbed her arm comfortingly. Dick came up behind them and met Jason’s eye. The two exchanged a meaningful glance. 

As the morticians announced the time of death and began their preparations, suddenly, the old man gasped and sat up, the white sheet falling to his shoulders. Everyone jumped and stared at him. “Oh,” the man looked down at the white sheet. “A blanket. How nice.” He smiled at Y/n and said, “thank you, dearie.” He then promptly snuggled back into his chair and fell asleep, letting out a loud snore.

The room was silent. “I thought you said you couldn’t find a pulse,” Dick said to Y/n after a tense moment. 

“I couldn’t!” she said, throwing her hands up. “It must be too faint!” She stalked out of the room, grumbling and complaining about how the man made her feel feelings and how she didn’t like it.

“We still have to arrest him for robbery!” Dick called after her. 

Tim stood on top of a chair and raised a metal triangle. He pinged the triangle and a soft ding rang out. The detectives of the six-six looked up as Tim said, “Attention, squad!”

“Mm, pretty dainty way to make an announcement,” Dick chuckled.

“It's a workplace. I wanted to be respectful.” Tim glared at his sergeant. “As I was saying, it's time for round four of the Halloween Heist-”

His speech was interrupted by Y/n prancing into the precinct, blasting double air horns. “What's up, six-six!?” she crowed. “Y/n L/n here to tell you that tonight is the night for the Halloween-”

“Heist,” Cass finished. “Tim already went over this.”

“What?” Y/n whirled around and saw Tim standing on his chair, frowning down at her. “Timothy middle-name Drake! What are you doing? I always announce the heist.”

“Yeah, Timmy-boy,” Steph crossed her arms. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Exercising my right to announce the heist as the defending champion,” Tim huffed.

“Defending champion,” Y/n scoffed loudly. “The only reason you won is ‘cause no one knew you were even playing. It was a pathetic act of pure cowardice. Now, then! This one's for all-”

A loud blaring interrupted Y/n, just as Y/n had interrupted Tim. Captain Wayne strode into the bullpen with a marching band at his heels playing the iconic Ride of the Valkyries.

Y/n huffed and crossed her arms. “Such a dork.”

Tim grinned. “So cool.”

“Attention, squad!” Wayne called out. “Tonight-”

“Nope.” Damian shook his head in disappointment. “The three of you should have coordinated.”

“I should be the one to introduce the heist,” Wayne protested. “Given that I am the last legitimate champion. L/n hasn't won since the first year. She's a has-been.”

“Has-been?!” Y/n cried. “I am not a has-been! If anything, you’re the has-been…. With your old hair and age. And oldness.”

Wayne rolled his eyes and ignored her. “This year's Halloween Heist is a three-way tiebreaker to determine the champion of champions. We'll be playing for this: a plaque that reads: the ultimate detective-slash-genius.” He turned to his detectives and said, “You and Drake should quit now. I'm going to stomp on your dreams.”

“It's fun to see you so passionate,” Y/n commented.

“I will slit you open from mouth to anus and wear you like suit jackets. Your useless brains will splatter to the floor like the smooth radishes they are.” Wayne stared at them, his glare cold and unwelcoming.

“Wow,” Tim muttered after a tense moment. 

Wayne continued on as if nothing had happened. “The plaque will be held in this.” He held up a plastic, pink treasure chest.

“Is that my childhood treasure chest?” Tim asked. “How the hell did you get that?”

“It most certainly is, but don't worry.” Wayne held up a hand. “I removed the old report cards, awkward school photos, and attempts at straight love notes. Honestly, Drake, anyone can see that you’re bisexual.” Wayne shook his head. 

“Are you still with Bernard?” Y/n asked, clasping her hands together hopefully. Tim nodded, his face flushed and Y/n cooed.

“The chest will be secured with this brand-new lock,” Wayne said, snapping a lock onto the treasure chest. “Todd, if you would?” Wayne handed the key to Jason who promptly threw it out the window and into the street below. “Knowing Gotham, that’ll be gone within thirty minutes. Now, then, I am locking the chest. It will be placed in the centre of the bullpen. Whoever possesses the plaque at sunup wins. Shall we pick teams?”

Dick shook his head and reclined in his chair. “I've got a ton of work. You can just leave me out this year.”

Y/n, Tim, and Wayne all burst into laughter. “Oh, Dick, Dick, Dick.” Y/n shook her head, chuckling. “How naive do you think we are? You're ‘not participating’ so you can cheat us out and steal a victory, like Timmy did last year.” 

Dick threw his hands up and turned away, mumbling about dumb heists and all the paperwork he needed to do. Y/n appointed Steph to watch over him, knowing her bestie needed to get some work done, and this was a way for her to complete her work and also participate in the heist.

“Great! It's now time to choose from the remaining players.” Y/n rubbed her hands together. “Tim, since you're last year's champion, I will graciously let you go first.”

“Cass,” Tim said immediately.

“Dope.” Cass held up a hand for a high-five

Wayne then said loudly, “I select Jason Todd.”

“What?” Y/n spluttered, her face morphing into one of shock and confusion.

Wayne chuckled dryly and hummed. “What is the matter, L/n? Were you expecting to have Detective Todd on your team? Have I… thrown a wrench into your plans?” He raised a brow. Wayne knew exactly what he had done.

“Absolutely not,” Y/n refused. “I am simply surprised, because you have such a strong connection with Damian. But I'm glad he's on my team. I had absolutely nothing planned for Jason.” A couple minutes later when Y/n and Damian stood in the copying room, Y/n burst out, “I totally planned everything for Jason. This is a nightmare!”

Damian pursed his lips dramatically and asked, “what can Jason Todd do that I cannot? I have said it before and I will say it again: that man is not good enough for you.”

“Thank you for looking out for me, Dami, but can you roller-skate super well?”

“Bitch,” Damian clicked his tongue. “I am an angel on skates. I skate like a professional. I can do anything that Todd can.”

Y/n sucked in a breath and grimaced. “Except you can’t look exactly like the body double I got for him.” She sighed and called out, “Curran, you can come out now.”

A man stepped out that looked suspiciously like Jason. He didn’t have a white streak in his hair, the angles of his face were slightly off, and it was clear to Y/n that this was not her lovely Jason, but he would have to do.

“Hi.” Curran waved to Damian awkwardly.

“Yes, this pasty white guy will be a problem.” Damian said after a moment of studying the body-double.

Cass and Tim had taken hold of the break room. Tim said, “so I believe the key to good teamwork is an equal exchange of ideas-”

“Stop.” Cass held up a hand and said, “I know you already have a plan. And I want to win, so for the next eight hours, I'm down with all your nerdy crap.” She smirked wickedly. “Come on, Tim. Show me the binder.”

Tim’s grin grew and he corrected her, “okay, but it's not a binder. It's a virtual binder, and it's encrypted on this flash drive!” He held up a small flash drive.

Cass smiled proudly. “That's my boy. Now, where's the 3D model of the precinct, huh?”

“Inside the key chain,” TIm squealed. “It's a freaking hologram!”

“I gotta admit, I’m pretty excited, Captain.” Jason crossed his arms and leaned against Wayne’s desk. “So, how are we gonna do it?”

Wayne rolled out a large whiteboard. “Here's everything you need to know.” 

“It's blank,” Jason noted obviously.

“It's a metaphor,” Wayne stated. “You get nothing. You lose. Good day, my good sir.”

Jason’s brows furrowed in confusion. “But we're teammates. You chose me.”

“Ever since you became L/n’s boy-toy, you've become too close,” Wayne explained. “I don't trust you. Love has made you weak. I only chose you to disrupt her plans. And now that you've served your purpose, you're no longer needed.”

Jason scoffed. “I feel so used. Am I just a piece of meat to you?”

“Yes,” Wayne said bluntly. “Now, put on a smile, pork chop.”

Y/n pressed her face against the copy room door, peering into the bullpen. Damian stood next to her, back to the window. “As expected, all eyes are on the chest,” she murmured. “It's go time. Now, Dami!”

Damian quickly dropped to the floor, rolling out of the way for Curran to hop up and take his spot, wearing the same hoodie Damian had been. “This is humiliating,” Damian murmured from the floor.

“Looks like nobody's onto us.” Y/n talked to herself, cheeks still pressed up against the window. “Now, Damian!” Damian slid out of the copy room through a window that led to a back hallway. He army-crawled into the bullpen and moved to the middle of the room where the chest stood. He began fiddling with the lock. Y/n knew not to ask where he had learned how to pick locks.

In the copy room, Y/n awkwardly tried to converse with Curran. “So, Curran, do you have a real job or…?” 

“Well,” Curran said, still facing backwards, “I’m an up-and-coming actor, but that’s a hard industry to be in, especially in Gotham, so to pay the bills I began running some jobs for the mob.”

Y/n stared at him, and after a second muttered, “Imma pretend I didn’t hear that. And you couldn’t just get a job at a coffee shop or grocery store?”

“Nah. Too easy.” Curran shook his head. 

Y/n simply sighed and shook her head. “Nevermind. Now, Curran, the key here is that I came in before work and replaced the door handles with ones that lock from the outside. I’m pretty smart if I say so myself.” Y/n patted herself on the back. When she saw Damian open the chest, she grinned and said, “alright, Curran. The time is now. Show your face to the world!” Curran whirled around and grinned as the officers of the six-six shouted out in shock.

“What the hell?” Cass exclaimed. “Tim!” Tim ran from the table in which his virtual hologram was set up. He gasped dramatically.

“Pick your jaws up off the floor, ladies!” Y/n sashayed into the room, music playing loudly over speakers. “I am amazing! Here comes Y/n! Whoo! Welcome to the big show. I was gonna sneak the plaque out without anybody knowing, but then I thought... so much more fun to make y’all watch. Now please enjoy as I steal the plaque of destiny.” She noticed Wayne attempting to pick the lock in his office and she tuttered, “no, no, no, Cap-i-tan. That'll take at least three minutes, by which time I will’ve hidden this plaque somewhere you will never find it.” Wayne grunted and his eyes darted to the window. Y/n snickered and said, “of course, you could break the window, but you would never willingly destroy government property, would you?” Wayne squared his jaw and rammed his shoulder into his office window, shattering glass all over the precinct floor. Y/n’s eyes grew and her mouth dropped open. “Whoop! Misread that one.” She cried to Damian, “Dami, skate! Skate like the wind!”

Damian grabbed the plaque as Wayne huffed, chest heaving. Damian smirked and pushed off. He glanced behind him, which was a mistake. Damian rammed right into a wall and toppled over, clutching his nose. 

“Damian, are you okay?!” Y/n cried, rushing to his side.

“I am alright,” Damian nodded, blood running down his nostrils and an open cut split the bridge of his nose. After a tense moment, he admitted, “it hurts badly. I hope I am not humbled by this.”

Y/n grabbed some paper towels and tried to clean up Damian’s nose. “I'm so sorry, Dami,” she apologised. “It should have been Jason on those skates. He’s weirdly good at it.”

“All right, Damian, get your things,” Steph shook her head. “I’m taking you to the doctor. You probably have a broken nose and they’ll need to set it and give you a cast.”

Damian waved him off. “No, no, no, no. I shall go alone. I do not need anyone's help. Order me an Uber.”

Wayne paused and stuck his tongue in his cheek. “And I’m sure that despite our natural desire to stop everything, you'd like us to soldier on in your absence and keep the heist going?”

“Yes, that is fine,” Damian said, beginning to get up on his feet. Steph went to help him and insisted that she accompany him.

Wayne clapped his hands. “Well, you heard the man. He insists we continue. Let's mop up this blood and get back at it.”

“With all due respect, sir, I don't think that's the best idea,” Tim stared at the blood. “The blood is dry. We can just clean it up after,” he said as if it was obvious.

“Oh, yes, agreed,” Wayne hummed.

After Damian had left, the team assembled in the bullpen, the pool of blood still in the corner. Y/n exhaled heavily, “I love tonight. However, there is the small issue of me losing my partner. Now, Dick,” she turned to her sarge. “I know that you were upset that no one picked you earlier.”

“Not what happened,” Dick corrected.

“Regardless, please be my partner!” She begged him, “please, please, please, please, please, please.”

“No! Heists are dumb, and I have work to do.”

“You're dumb, and I have... heist to do,” Y/n retorted lamely. “You know what? Forget Dick.” She placed her hands on her hips and turned back to the squad. “At the time of the accident, my team had the plaque, so I’ll just grab it and give myself a four-minute head start.”

Wayne held a hand out. “Not so fast, L/n. I say we reset the plaque and start over.”

“What? But my team had it!” Y/n whined. “Jaybird, tell him,” she turned to Jason, looking for him to back her up.

Jason bit his lip and glanced at Wayne. The Captain stared down at his detective. Jason knew this was the test. “No, darling. We're resetting,” he said.

“Jason, what are you saying?” Y/n’s brows furrowed.

“It’s only fair, Y/n.” Jason shook his head, playing devil’s advocate. “The plaque goes back.”

“Yes, pork chop. Yes,” Wayne whispered dramatically. 

“Oh ho ho…” Y/n glared playfully at her boyfriend. “You’ve just set this relationship three weeks back, mister. And that includes the intimate relationship.”

Jason just chuckled and winked at her. “We’ll see about that.”

“I have eyes on Scotty, Kirk, and Bones,” Cass announced to Tim, the pair still in the break room. She was referencing Y/n, Wayne, and Jason (not in that particular order).

Tim gasped, “you used their code names. You read the plans, agenda and all!”

“Damn right, I did.” Cass grinned. “I told you, I'm all in.”

“And you didn't make fun of me for basing it all on Star Trek,” Tim gushed.

“I even did your suggested reading of the fandom wiki,” Cass bragged.

“You did?!” 

“Calm down.” Cass rolled her eyes. “You're such a Spock.”

“I am! It's true!” Tim’s voice got to a concerning octave and he bounced up on the balls of his feet.

“Todd, I was impressed with how you stood up to L/n and demanded a reset,” Wayne said as he sat in his chair.

Jason chuckled once. “I'm Team Wayne all the way.”

Wayne scrutinised him. “Well, perhaps I can use a teammate after all,” he conceded. “Do you swear I can trust you?”

“Yes. I swear.” Deep down, they all needed the approval of their Captain.

“Let's unleash hell.” Y/n stood vigilante in the copy room, holding down court. “Thanks for coming back, Curran,” she said to Curran, who sat on the copier machine. “I really needed a teammate.”

“Anytime, dude. This precinct has one of the best sweet trays in the lobby.”

“How many Gotham precincts have you been in?”

Just then, the elevator door dinged and a young teenager stepped out. “Uh, I got a pizza here for Bruce Wayne,” the teen stammered, clearly nervous about being surrounded by police officers.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.” Y/n stormed out of the copy room, Curran pattering behind her. “Wayne hates pizza. He's trying to distract us!”

Wayne joined her, as did Jason and Tim. “If I were trying to distract you, I would have sent you the pizza. This is your doing, you and your mob man...”

“Curran is not in the mob! I don’t think…”

Another pizza man walked in. “I have a pizza here for Bruce Wayne.”

“What's going on?” Tim’s head whipped back and forth.

Two more delivery guys entered and they both announced, “I have a pizza here for Bruce Wayne.”

“Which one of you bozos did this?” Tim accused Y/n and Wayne.

“Us?” Y/n huffed, offended. “You know how much planning it takes to get this many pizza guys here at the same time? A binder full of planning. This has Tim written all over it.”

“Nuh-uh! If I had done this, it would say Captain Bruce Wayne. I'm not going to disrespect you, sir, even for the sake of the heist.”

“I'll guard the plaque!” Jason suddenly cried out as more pizzas entered the precinct.

“You're not leaving my sight!” Tim pointed an angry finger at him.

“Curran, can you see what's going on?” Y/n asked frantically, trying to see over the pizza boxes. “Do you have eyes on Jason and Cass?”

“I don’t know anyone's names…” Curran admitted.

“There's too much pizza!”

“I see Wayne. I see Jason. Where's Dick?”

Dick stood up and pushed through the pizzas. “I’m leaving! This is ridiculous.”

“This is madness!”

Y/n grabbed one of the delivery guys. “Who hired you?” she demanded. “Who do you work for, pizza man?”

Tim stood atop a chair, a parallel to that morning, and used one of the bullhorns Y/n had blared to announce her arrival. “Everyone with a pizza, get out of here!” he screamed.

After the pizza guys had left, it was revealed that the chest was broken and the plaque was gone. Arguments both began and died down, but eventually, everyone trooped back to their respective areas.

Tim closed the blinds in the break room and crossed his fingers. “Okay, was the operation a success?”

“You tell me.” Cass, who was wearing a red shirt and hat with bold yellow lettering on it, opened a pizza box to reveal the plaque. Tim let out a noise of excitement and Cass explained, “I blended right in with the pizza guys. Got out my bolt cutters and the lock snapped on the first try. No one saw me leave.” She sighed and admitted, “got to hand it to you... beautiful plan.”

“Beautiful execution,” Tim complimented. “It's kind of like we're our own crew of The Enterprise. God, I don't want tonight to ever end.” He knelt next to a vent in the break room and ushered Cass over. “This is where I hide my secret stash of candy.” A very serious look came over his face. “Can I trust you with this information?” Cass rolled her eyes and nodded. Tim nodded back before stowing the plaque in the vent.

“This is so frustrating.” Jason groaned, a muscle in his jaw tensing as he ranted to Wayne. “There's no way of knowing who has the plaque.”

Wayne said immediately, “Cassandra and Timothy have it.”

“What? How do you know?”

“Cain usually favours her left leg, but after ‘Zero Dark Pizza,’ she was suddenly favouring her right. Her gait was thrown off because she was carrying the plaque. And I know exactly where it's hidden: in Drake’s secret candy stash.” Jason opened his mouth to ask a question, but he recognised when his capitan was monologuing, so he just let Wayne continue. “Whenever he gets stressed out, he eats some candy. It's almost ridiculously easy to stress him out.”

“Oh, Drake, I…” Wayne trailed off. “Nevermind.”

Tim’s head shot up. “What is it? What?” He bit his lip and declared, “I got to go.”

Wayne surveyed the camera recordings from the break room. He saw Tim stuff some chocolate in his mouth. “Bing-pot.”

“And now it's time to send in our cute little secret weapon. Ace.” Wayne revealed a dog bed under his desk with a small, black dog resting happily on it. “Over the past month, I've had him trained to retrieve plaques. And now, boy, it's time to make Daddy proud.”

“Time is running out,” Y/n muttered. “We gotta stop playing by the rules and start playing dirty.” She realised she was talking to herself, as Curran had needed to attend to some ‘business’. Y/n huffed and poked her head out of the copy room, signalling to Jason. “Jason! Get in here!” Jason seemed incredibly apprehensive, but slid into the room anyway. The moment he was in, Y/n shut the door behind him and interrogated, “what is Wayne up to? Does he have the plaque? Does he know who does?”

Jason sighed and replied smoothly, “I'm not telling you that, Y/n. I'm Team Wayne, and there's nothing you could say that will change that.”

Y/n squinted at him and after a moment, said, “Okay, fine, then I guess I’ll be sleeping at my apartment for the next week or two.”

Jason’s brows bent down and he stared at her. “Y/n…” he muttered. “No.”

Y/n tried to remain strong, but seeing Jason’s heartbroken expression sent knives through her soul. “Yes. I… I will postpone this relationship for an entire week!”

Jason stepped closer to her and slid his hands up her arms. “Darling. You know you don’t mean that. I know for a fact that you sleep just as horribly as I do when we’re apart. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“God, I hate that you know me so well!” Y/n fumed. “But- but I’ll do it! And… I’ll show Dick that picture of you dressed as the Easter Bunny for Halloween!”

Jason gasped dramatically and took a step back, a hand to his heart. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

Y/n grinned sharply. “Oh, I would. And you know it.”

Jason’s jaw ticked and after a tense moment, he broke. “Wayne has the plaque. It's hidden in the evidence room in a box marked ‘Cold Cases 1972.’” 

Y/n smiled and patted his cheek. “Thank you, my love.” 

Y/n held up the plaque, a box labelled ‘Cold Cases 1972’ open on the shelf next to her. “Ain't she a beaut?” she whistled appreciatively. 

“Chht, chht, chht, chht…” A voice made her jump and Y/n turned around to see Captain Wayne stalking up on her, Jason behind him, arms crossed over his chest.

“What is happening right now?” she asked, referencing the odd noises he was making.

“The last sands are running through the hourglass…” he explained ominously, “chht, chht, chht... because your time is running out, and you are never going to get the plaque.”

Jason sighed and shook his head. “Captain, stop. I can't let you embarrass yourself. I told Y/n everything. Threats were exchanged and I freaked out. I'm sorry.”

“It's alright.” Wayne brushed him off. “I knew you would betray me. That's why I fed you fake intel.” At Jason and Y/n’s confused faces, he continued, “the plaque was never in ‘Cold Cases 1972.’ As if I'd just put it in a box, unattended.” He glared at his detectives, offended they assumed so little of him.

“Uh, but you did,” Y/n rebutted.

“No, I didn't.”

“Then how do you explain this?” Y/n held up her plaque.

“I have no idea. I put the plaque in my office.” Wayne marched towards his office and, hidden in a fake-bottom drawer, laid the plaque. 

The trio convened in the bullpen where Cass and Tim strolled up to them, Tim holding an identical plaque. “What's up, turds?” Seeing the replica plaques, Cass asked, “wait, what is going on? We have the plaque.”

“Yeah, I just got it out of the vent to rub it in your faces,” Tim said.

“Something strange is afoot. Which of these is real?” Wayne demanded.

Suddenly, the lights clicked off and were replaced by glowing, neon purple lights. Tim deduced, “black lights. What the hell?”

Jason looked around and cringed away from everything. “Oh, my God. This place is disgusting.”

“This place is disgusting: Title of your sex tape,” Y/n mumbled, almost to herself. She then gasped and slapped her hands on her cheeks in revelation. “Title of our sex tape!”

“Dear God.” Wayne cringed, then a glimmer caught his eye. “Wait. Look at the plaques.”

“‘Are.’ ‘Heists.’ ‘Dumb.’” Y/n read aloud from each of the plaques. The three words, one on each plaque, were suddenly illuminated in the black light. “Are heists dumb? Of course not. That’s a stupid question,” she scoffed.

“No, Y/n, it says, ‘Heists are dumb.’” Tim rolled his eyes.

The entire team then put together the pieces and gasped, “Dick!”

The officers stormed up to the sergeant's desk and Y/n cried out, “the Oscar for best liar goes to you, good sir!”

“That's not an Oscars category,” Dick said. “What's going on?”

“Cut the bullshit, Grayson,” Wayne’s nostrils fumed. “Where's the plaque?”

“For the last time, I don't know. I've been working here the whole time.” He stood up and waved them away. “You know what? I don't need this. I’m leaving.”

“You're not going anywhere,” Cass growled, pulling out her baton.

“Damn, Cain!” Dick exclaimed. He took one look at her baton and hurried away from the group. 

“He's trying to get away!” Everyone rushed after Dick and they all herded into an interrogation room, chasing after him. 

Dick slammed into the opposite door, jiggling the handle, trying to get away. He cried out, “someone locked the door!”

Suddenly, Damian knocked on the glass (conveniently not a two-way mirror), drawing everyone's attention to him. “Hello, losers,” he greeted calmly, watching them all. “As I’m sure you’re all wondering, it is I that has the real plaque.” He held up the shining plaque in all its glory.

“Damian! Of course!” Y/n hissed. “It all makes sense, except for the parts I don't understand and the fact that I still kind of think Dick did this.”

“No, it was all me,” Damian grinned slyly. “Three weeks ago, Captain Wayne asked me to order a plaque that read, The ultimate detective-slash-genius. I did so, and I ordered three replicas. Once I had the plaques, I manipulated Captain Wayne into choosing Jason as his partner. All it took was six bottles of dish soap.”

Damian stood in front of a sink overflowing with bubbles, his hands on his hips. “See, this is what happens when Y/n tries to wash dishes by herself. She's helpless without Todd.”

Wayne stood next to him and raised a brow. “Yes. She is helpless without Todd.”

“You fell for my trap like a greedy little rat,” Damian said to Wayne, his eyes glimmering with power. “It was easy. The next phase of my plan: a skating accident.”

“But you broke your nose!” Y/n cried.

“I would do anything to win,” came Damian’s immediate response. Everyone’s eyes widened and someone let out an, “oh, damn.”

“I swapped out a dummy plaque for the real one. Then I left to go to the doctor,” Damian continued easily. “I came back, wearing the perfect disguise to make sure I was never noticed by anyone. Something drab and uninspiring…”

“This feels like it's gonna be a dig on me,” Tim grumbled.

“I wore Timothy’s clothes.”

“There it is.”

“This is your doing, you and your mob man...”

“Curran is not in the mob! I don’t think…”

As Wayne and Y/n argued, Damian stood casually in the background, wearing Tim’s jeans and a black turtleneck.

“That turtleneck is not drab!” Tim argued.

“Drake, it made me invisible,” Dami shook his head at the detective.

“And now that I had that power, every time one of you stole a plaque, I replaced it with a fake. And no one had any idea until the lights went out, revealing a secret message: Heists are dumb.”

“Then we raced in here to blame Dick, and you trapped us. But how did you know he was gonna say ‘heists are dumb?’”

Damian sighed sadly. “When you’ve worked with Grayson for as long as we have, you tend to pick up on some things. Unfortunately.” Dick’s mouth dropped open in betrayal. Damian didn’t care and he spread his arms, smirking. “Now here all of you are, locked behind the glass like a school of pathetic fish. I know you’re wondering why I did it.”

“Because you wanted to win?” Jason guessed.

“No!” Damian snapped. “I had a loftier goal in mind. Do me a favour and tell me what the plaque says? ‘The ultimate detective-slash-genius’. Detective. Can you imagine what that word sounds like to someone who's not a detective? Discriminatory.”

“You’re a fucking law student, Dami,” Y/n muttered. “You’ll have more power than us one day.”

“I've proved a point,” Damian said haughtily. “And that's why we're changing the name of the plaque forever.”

“To what?” Wayne asked.

Later, at Orin’s Bar, the team of the six-six (rejoined by Steph) cheersed Damian and applauded, “Damian al Ghul is the ultimate human-slash-genius.”

“Thank you.” Damian bowed his head, smiling softly. “Now I'd like to say a few words.” He sighed and admitted, “I love you imbeciles. Happy Halloween.”

“Happy Halloween!” The six-six precinct yelled back and Jason wrapped an arm around Y/n’s shoulders and brought her in for a hug, beaming at her.