#I am forcing myself to go through the class and think about each kid

[itspileofgoodthings]

.

[chroniclesofbts]

Call Me Home Part 1

A lot of time skips to start off the story and give background about the reader.

Idol hybrid BTS x hybrid foreigner reader

Warnings: sedative use, relocation against the readers will, implied sexual themes

It was storming outside when the announcement was made, blaring over the emergency speakers.

“All hybrids are required to enter Hybrids Centers to become independent. All hybrids must adhere to the rules set up by the centers, or they risk becoming strays. It is now Illegal to own hybrids in any capacity. Hybrids found on the streets will still be picked up by Hybrid Control and taken in for assessment. Hybrids will receive funds by the state, jobs, and housing upon existing of the Hybrid Centers. This begins now”

All of the humans were staring at me, I had no owner and they knew that. I was abandoned last month by my previous owner for scratching a “client”. I had avoided being taken in, until now. I stare at the large van pulled off to the side of the road as Hybrid Control exists. I follow without a fight, fighting would ensure I was put down. As much as I want to have hope of becoming independent, there has to be a catch. Even Hybrid idols are owned by someone, typically the company chairs. We pulled up to an airport, the man in the front seat holding my file. A picture of me in human and animal form plastered on the front.

“We have arrived, let’s get this over with. I don’t know why our strays get the chance to be independent” he sneers, “at least they aren’t staying in our country”

I’m flying to another country? I begin to panic, looking for a way out of the situation. Suddenly, I feel a prick to my neck, turn to see a long pole holding a syringe empty now of sedatives. My eyes start to feel heavy, the sedative taking full effect.

“Good luck, kid. You’ll need it where you’re going, they have way more rules.” A woman said, tying my hands together. The last thing I see is a cage being unloaded from the plane.

*Time skip*

When I wake I’m in a white room, with a small bed and bathroom. I’m in a my animal form, the sedative must have forced my shift. They also must have bathed me while I was unconscious, my fur is now soft and smells like soap. I curl further into myself, hearing footsteps outside. There’s a knock on the door, and a tall man enters.

“Hello, my name is Choi, welcome to South Korea” he speaks in English, “you will begin classes on language and culture tomorrow, take the rest of the day to settle. Once you pass your classes, you can move on to the next facility where you will be joined by our countries hybrids. America started their adjustments first, we have ours scheduled for the end of the year. This will give you plenty of time to learn the language and why you are here.” He bowed, then left, shutting the door softly.

I think back on how hard it was to adjust to a new culture, learn a new language, and train on how to be a part of a pack. In South Korea, the way to earn independence is through a pack. They taught the foreigners all of the steps for becoming a pack, as a way to prove we are a bonded pack before they release us. We will be brought to the new facility where their hybrid packs are, the ones that are under 8 hybrids. That’s another catch, packs have to be 8-10 people. Rumor has it that packs satisfying the 8-10 can still participate by choice to expand their packs, and those over 10 have to be separated.

I’m pulled from my thoughts as the vehicle comes to a stop. Each hybrid given a pill to increase our chances to find our pack. It brings our animals to be more in control, allowing for our mates to identify us by smell, touch, or eye contact. I am lead to a room with tables and chairs, I walk to the back of the room and take a seat.

"Good morning, my name is San and I am going to explain a few things before we let the packs begin their search. First rule, you do not get up or call out to any pack members that enter. Second, you do not get to choose your pack, the first 2 weeks are for them to choose you. If you are chosen, you must stay with that pack. You are the outcasts of your countries, don't become the outcasts of ours. We won't keep you. Finally, if you are chosen by a pack, they are responsible for you in all aspects. You mess up, you are punished as your pack sees fit. You only become independent through your packs, foreigners do not have the same rights in South Korea." He finishes, headed towards the door and opening it.

I drop my eyes to the table and lean back into the chair. As time passes, I think I am in the clear, until someone pulls the chair our in front of me and sits down. I swallow, and take a deep breath, waiting for them to speak.

"Won't you look at me, little doe" The voice asked, I look up in shock, wondering how he knew. Looking up was a mistake, as soon as my eyes locked on his, they changed to gold. He was my mate, and by the marks on his neck, he had others. He smiled and stood, holding his hand out to me, raising his eyebrow daring me to reject it. I stood up, looking around and seeing that I am the first one to leave the room.

"We got your profiles 3 weeks ago, that's how I knew you were a doe. A Melantistic Deer, quite rare" He said, grabbing my hand creating sparks to travel up my arm. I take a good look at him while he leads me down hallway after hallway. His ears sticking off of his head and tail coloring tell me he is a predator, a rare one. We arrive in front of a guarded door, the guards bow and let us pass.

"She can come and go as she pleases, no one else" he addresses the guards. They nod and give him a final bow before closing us in what appears to be a living room. As soon as the door clicked shut, footsteps came running our way.

"You found her!" A man with orange ears exclaimed, "My name is Jungkook, this is Taehyung" he says pointing to a man with ears similar to Jimin's, "I am a Red Panda, Taehyung is a Racing Stripped Cheetah, and Jimin is an Ocelot"

"I'm Seokjin but I go by Jin, a Dhole and this is Namjoon, a Golden Tiger" Jin said, Namjoon giving me a small smile and a wave.

"I'm Yoongi, a Melantistic Fox" He said, "I will say, I didn't expect to see another Melantistic Hybrid, especially one who was a stray."

"Well, you clearly don't know who we are, so before someone else tells you..."

"Hello, we are BTS" They chant together. You furrow your eyebrows before remembering that there was a chance of encountering idols in the facility.

"Oh" You start, "idols?"

"Is that a problem?" Yoongi questions

"I don't know much about Korean Idols, so if you're expecting me to freak out, you're going to be disappointed." I confess

"We prefer it this way, lets us get to know each other at the same time" Jimin said.

"However, we are expected to be independent by the end of the week" Namjoon say with a grimace.

"So, we have to be fully bonded?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

"Yes, but only to two members, the rest can be finished by the end of the month. Our company believes it's best to slowly introduce you to our fans." Namjoon confirm.

"But for today, we are going to just get to know you, no pressure to bond. Take it slow." Jin says

"Unfortunately, I give it 24 hours before the pill they made us take wears off and I am thrown into heat." I share, remembering what the guards were discussing when I entered. "They were talking about it in English when we walked in, how if no one finds a pack the first day that the scent of a heat will force people to choose." As soon as I finish speaking, Jimin leans in, pressing his nose to the column of my throat. Looking up at the rest in worry, confirming what I said.

"Which means we will go into our ruts..." Jungkook trails off.

"Which means we need to prepare" Jin says, beginning to panic.

[magnifythesun]

Hiii so mexican salsa YES this post is a prompt! Feel free to change it to whatever you like, but I'd love a lil' story like this:

Ian and anthony are both very obviously in love and the whole smoffice knows it, but them lmao! I'd love this fic to be just text messages or slack posts or sth, where the cast and crew report of sightings of Ian and anthony doing very ianthony stuff and not realize it themselves. Maybe they come up w a way to show or nudge them in the right direction? But Ian and Anthony will still make it a bro moment (broment) bc they think the other one just wants to be bros LMAO ~ Japhan2024 💖

@japhan2024 FANTASTIC IDEA I have to believe that the Smosh cast legit has a secret group chat for stuff like this hahaha the looks on their faces whenever Ian and Anthony do something shippy is priceless

im going to wrack my brain for my favorite moments lolol I hope you enjoy!

(mid writing note: i first wrote basically all texts but it wasn't quite flowing the way i wanted it to so now there's a little more prose lol. this also taught me i do NOT know enough crew members' names)

read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56346769

---

It took Erin less than ten minutes to create The Group Chat following the slapping video caress incident.

Erin: "okay so what the fuck"

Tommy: "i'm beside myself."

Angela: "SO WE'RE FINALLY TALKING ABOUT IT"

It began, and all hell broke loose from there.

Most of the cast and crew didn't know Anthony too well when he first returned, but everyone could tell Ian began to positively glow once he came back. It had started mostly with little under-the-breath comments about how big Ian had smiled at something Anthony did, or shared glances after they looked lost in each other's worlds. It's not that everyone wanted to speculate about their bosses, but rather that their bosses were practically giving them no choice.

The real watershed moment was the birth of The Group Chat, which finally provided an outlet for all ianthony incidents witnessed by the cast and crew.

---

Shayne: "Please tell me how Anthony managed to turn his smosh cast interview into an hour of us complimenting Ian."

Tommy: "i swear he practices in his car on the way to work"

---

Erin: "not them discussing deepthroating injuries for like three whole minutes..."

Erin: "while Anthony sucks on his rainbow lollipop......"

Chanse: "they are not beating the allegations"

---

Josh: "So this is I think the fourth video I've edited where Anthony has called Ian daddy??"

Josh: "WHAT is the thought process. I just can't put it together. is Anthony just like yeah I'm going to call my bro daddy about seventeen separate times with varying levels of seriousness and that's good and het and normal."

Erin: "Josh, istg you don't see the half of it. Come watch them film and pay special attention when the cameras are OFF."

---

Erin: "im losing it"

Arasha: "oh god. what happened"

Erin: "i am not fucking kidding right now anthony just called him submissive and breedable."

Keith: "WHAT"

Erin: "he said what he said."

Angela: "BREEDABLE????????????"

Erin: "in front of god and everyone."

Angela: "BREEDABLE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!"

---

Tommy: "catching up on the main channel sketches and i just have to ask"

Tommy: "How many men can Ian date in his sketches until he realizes he'd like to date one in real life?"

Chanse: "don't SPEAK to me about it"

---

Tommy: "bicurious, hmm? Ian would you like to share something with the class???"

Chanse: "hes so deep in the mental closet his art is trying to scream it at him through his subconscious."

Chanse: "ive been there 😞"

Josh: "I've never been more prepared to edit a video in my whole life"

---

Angela: "Erinnnn not u directing them to stand closer together 😭😭"

Erin: "look I'm at my wits end. I'm thinking forced proximity might do it"

Keith: "if that could work they would have gotten it during kissing currency 😙💸"

Shayne: "@ courtney is this your thought process behind wanting a kissing video"

Courtney: "HA"

Courtney: "yes."

---

Courtney: "okay so if our plan at this point is just to make them read so many fanfics about themselves out loud that they spontaneously realize they're in love, we've got to find some fics that don't contain the word 'cummies'"

Angela: "what are cummies?? 😇"

Shayne: "ANGELA I SWEAR TO GOD"

---

As the incidents kept piling up, a plot began to form. Maybe Anthony and Ian were just so oblivious that they all needed to adopt a certain 'push-comes-to-shove' mentality, and do what had to be done. Everyone agreed, they had to find a way to put them in such a charged situation that this would all finally boil over, and the astounding tension that had plagued the office would be resolved. The ultimate achievement of this long-weary Group Chat.

Erin: "okay so one more time. everyone has talked with HR, yes? and everyone slated for the vid is comfortable with the concept of spin the bottle"

Angela: "what's spin the bottle? 😇"

Tommy: "STOP"

Shayne "1) Yes for the thousandth time, we promise. 2) What the FUCK are we going to do if this bottle never lands on Anthony and Ian"

Erin: "I will keep this shoot going as long as necessary."

Shayne: "That sounds like a threat?"

Chanse: "I'm suddenly regretting my decision. May I take my week's vacation right now?"

---

Erin: "how..."

Courtney: "did you see the look in their eyes????? :O"

Angela: "FATE WAS ON OUR SIDE. IT LANDED ON THEM THREE WHOLE TIMES"

Erin: "yes but,,,,,"

Tommy: "don't speak to me I'm still reeling"

Keith: "oh please don't tell me it didn't work."

Chanse: "i just have one question. how did they kiss THREE TIMES and still not realize."

Courtney: "they were both practically levitating from giddiness"

Arasha: "they just kept looking away from each other and laughing it off... they didn't see each other's expressions 😭😭"

Angela: "guys. guys"

Erin: "what"

Angela: "do u know what this means"

Angela: "now that we've pushed them over this hurdle... They're going to start bro kissing in their sketches"

Chanse: "oh my god"

Josh: "oh fuck you're right"

Erin: "that's it."

Erin: "im quitting smosh"

Amanda: "Oh hey guys! We have a group chat?"

Shayne:

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Four

It’s so awkward. It’s as though both Liam and I have forgotten to make conversation. As we walk down the beach together I glance around me, making sure that nobody else can see us, especially not Kelly or Claire, because I know if they could they would be compiling a list of all the things I have been doing wrong so that they can ambush me with it tomorrow morning. 

We walk in near silence until the sounds and lights of the pub have long vanished into the distance behind us, and I’m stressed now. I feel like I should be saying something. Is he waiting for me to say something? He probably is. I haven’t been very good at starting conversations all night, maybe it’s my turn now and I didn’t even realise it, but before I can think of something to say he asks me: “Do you want to sit down over there?”

There is a path through the dunes that leads back into the village and snakes over a golf course en route. The opening to it is a little half moon shape in the dunes, naturally framed by the marram grass, a gentle incline providing a comfortable place to sit while shaded from the wind. We crouch down together there, and I see that the circling beam of a lighthouse is clear from our place on the sand. Its brazen light pierces through the darkness towards me and then vanishes again in an instant, leaving only the ghostly glow of the moon on the shore. 

“There’ll be a full moon in a few days.” I say, partially to myself, partially because I’m now desperate to finally say something out loud. 

“Yep, you can tell by the tides.” Says Liam. “See how choppy they’ve become now? Once the moon is waning again you’ll see the tide still as anything.” He scratches the back of his head and breathes in. His breath is quivering a little bit. “Full moon is a good time to be out on the water if you’ve got a bit of experience. We try not to bring the surf juniors out there though – it’s a bit more risky.”

“I don’t know anything about surfing.” I admit. “We took a school tour to an activity camp one year. Everyone was so excited to try surfing there, but I couldn’t even get close to standing up on the board.”

“We’ve all been there. It just takes practice. That’s why I love doing the camps, you can really see the progress over the six weeks and kids are just so good at picking things up.”

“Sounds like you really like your job.”

“Oh, I love it. If I could stay here all year round and teach surfing I would in a heartbeat. I don’t ever want to be anywhere else than on the beach and in the sea.”

“Well, why don’t you stay here then? Do you really want to go and do Agricultural Science in college?”

“No” His shoulders slump. “I can’t be bothered with it really, but once September comes this beach is deserted. There’s not a soul around for the guts of nine months, you’d never get enough to fill a class in the Surf Shack. I have to find something else to do.” 

“That sounds hard.” I say. “It’s a shame you can’t keep on doing what you love.” I think about myself, and how I would feel if art was something I was unable to pursue, and instead I found myself stuck in some dull administrative job, spending each day filing papers and typing reports in some grey corporate office. I stare thoughtfully out towards the sea as I consider this, imagining myself in some alternate dimension where I am forced to choose between exclusively boring college courses, trying to get through my classes day after day, knowing that what waits me at the other end of it all is a job offer for the worst career possible. 

It takes me a moment to realise that Liam hasn’t spoken in a while, and I glance at him, but his face is towards the sand, he’s watching grains of sand spill through his fingers with brows knitted together anxiously. I immediately assume that I’ve said something wrong. “Are you okay?” I ask. 

“Yeah I’m fine.” He says absently.

“Are you sure? I didn’t say something wrong or anything did I?”

“No, not at all.” His eyes flicker up to meet mine. “You didn’t say anything.” I wonder in disappointment if I have ruined things. If he was going to make a move on me, he probably would have done it by now, and I worry that our date – if you can call it that – has been a failure. I glance at him and I wonder if I even want him to kiss me, if he tried to, would I let him? He is a nice boy, his face is handsome and he seems like a nice person and I think there must be something wrong with me if I don’t fancy him. I think then that I might start crying. 

“When I saw you outside the Surf Shack earlier I thought you were gorgeous.” He says finally. I’ve been so lost in my thoughts that it takes me a second to realise it. 

“Really?” I sound incredulous. But how can a boy look at anybody else when someone like Claire is sitting right in front of them?

“Yeah, there’s something about like, your eyes. I’ve not met anybody before who has green eyes like that.”

“Yeah right” I laugh, and it sounds harsh and out of place.

“No, I’m dead serious.” He says, cheeks pink with embarrassment. I realise he’s not setting me up, and I feel bad for laughing. It’s just hard for me to imagine that anybody would feel in any way intensely about me or any part of me. I look in the mirror and I can’t pick out any feature of mine that is especially beautiful or especially ugly. I’m just flat. Plain. Blank, and there’s nothing about me that… sparkles. 

“When you turned around and looked over at me, it’s like, I felt a shock when I saw your face, I just thought to myself; “who is she?’”

“That’s mad.” I feel my face getting hot, and I kind of want him to say more nice things about me, for as much as I find them hard to believe, it is lovely to think that somebody has looked at my face and seen something beautiful in it. 

He rakes his fingers through his blond curls and sighs. “I… Evie, you’re so nice and I wanted to come out here with you and I really wanted to kiss you, but now I’ve been feeling too nervous to make a move on you and I’ve just… made things so shit and awkward.”

“Oh.” I say, my heart suddenly thumping in my chest. I can’t think of how to respond, and he looks at me desperately, his eyes begging me to say something else to break the silence.

“Sorry, I think I’m the one who’s been making it awkward” I say at last.  

“So can I kiss you?” 

I wish that he hadn’t asked me and had just done it, and I kind of feel like rolling my eyes, but I nod, and then he leans towards me and then his lips are against mine. 

I don’t have a lot of experience with kissing, and most of my experiences with it have been truly horrible, but I find kissing Liam to be quite nice. He isn’t smashing his face against mine or immediately going in with too much tongue, he is gently holding the back of my neck, and his face and his breath are warm against my cheek. I find myself wishing that all of my kisses had been like this one, maybe then I wouldn’t be so traumatised by the concept of boys and love and sex. Maybe, after all, the whole thing doesn’t have to be such a monstrous ordeal. When I realise I am overthinking, I try to force my racing thoughts away so that I can focus on kissing him back. 

It doesn’t last very long, and when we pull away, we giggle nervously and then get up from the sand and begin slowly walking back down the beach together. It feels like now that we’ve done it, we can finally leave. I’m surprised that he reaches for my hand as we go and can’t help but think that it feels a little preemptive of him to do that. Doesn’t hand holding come later? Is there supposed to be some kind of discussion about where we stand with one another? Maybe I don’t understand the rules. I forget about it, and just enjoy the feeling of being close with another person like this. It’s safe and sweet and cosy, and we talk and joke hand in hand all the way back to the pub. 

Prev // Next

[lazar-codes]

09/11/2023 || Day 107

Personal Chatter (aka I ramble a bit)

Still looking for jobs, and there are still none to be had. Any time I think I haven't applied to a job in a few days, I check and there's literally nothing new. What makes it feel worse is that my current part-time retail job cut hours like crazy, so I'm only coming in once a week instead of the 4 days I'm available. It especially sucks because I do want to spend my day working, but instead I'm at home attempting to program but I'm running out of steam. Not to mention it gets dark so early now; I used to love that as a kid, but as an adult it's just depressing. I think the only thing that's keeping me sane is the fact that I go out to play Magic on Thursdays with people, and I have ASL class on Wednesdays. It's nice to have scheduled weekly events. Hell, I've even been forcing myself to play video games for an hour or 2 every evening to help me get through my games, because even though I like playing video games, it takes a lot of energy for me to start a play session. The joys of being an adult 😂.

But some good news! I have 3 pages left in my sketchbook and I'm so excited to finish it! I've been drawing only in pen in this book for 3 years, so I'm so ready to start a new one and be able to use pencil and actually take my time with drawing instead of just pumping out sketches. People say that sketching in pen will improve your art faster and enables you to draw faster, but I realized I really like getting sucked into a sketch and take my time with it, which I can't really do with pen.

📺 : The Haunting of Bly Manor (rewatch)

🎮 : Mass Effect Andromeda

📚 : Fight, Magic, Items - The History of Final Fantasy, Dragon Quest, and the Rise of Japanese RPGs in the West.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Programming

LeetCode

I've been doing 1 problem per weekday for a week now! Yesterday and today I did some medium-level questions on Strings/Arrays which took about 2 hours each. Yesterday I had to look at other peoples' answers, but today I managed to solve it by myself. Am I in the top percentile for time and space complexity? Absolutely not, but I solved it, so I still consider that a win.

Hobby Tracker - Log # 4

I feel like I'm bored out of my mind. I know I said I was gonna focus on doing a full-stack project this month, but I still haven't done the desktop design for the project and I can't bring myself to continue designing. The good news is that I "finished" the mobile design, so I can instead pivot and just create a mobile app instead if I so choose, and I just might...or just do mobile-view first and get all the functionality done, then move onto desktop.

[nerves-nebula]

what made your first year of college so much worse than the second?

godddd where do i even start. Complaining goes under the cut cuz it’s too damn long.

8 hour studios 3 times a week that start at 8 AM and only break for lunch. one of the professors expected us to stand the entire time we were drawing and only sit when we went on break. plus homework for those studios, because each studio was a different foundational class. and on the days when you dont have those studios you got other foundational classes like art history and literature or something. you've got homework for all of these classes too and tests and everything.

and each studio being a different class is a huge issue and really frustrating as well. the classes are drawing, design and, like, basically a 3D class, right? where you use power tools and carve stuff and all that. But imagine you go to this school for painting or to make clothes, then the three foundational classes might just really bore and frustrate you. because you don't really feel like they're helping you gain any skills in your preferred major.

so you have all these artistic kids who want to do their best, being forced to do things they hate and being told it's to make us "more well rounded." (which dont get me wrong i understand, but that doesnt make it suck any less)

so all the art you make is painful to create, and you don't even like the result. but we knew what we signed up for, and the point is to last past first year so you can get into your major. thats the point for me, at least. so you just get what you can done, but i cant imagine what I would've done if i'd fallen behind even once.

And then my own personal hell- being in a new place and not knowing what to do or who to talk to or how to communicate ! So i was constantly stressed out in like a social way. idk if i vented about this here but i fell over in a fit of anxiety and hyperventilation in class multiple times first year. I straight up fell over at least twice and i had crying fits multiple times (with varying degrees of how quiet I was being, sometimes they don't even notice :D)

I was incredibly emotionally isolated and cried myself to sleep like every night. my only social interactions were at work because I'm very bad at socializing properly and making friends in class, and i was always too tired to go to any events. LUCKY for me I met a really cool friend while doing some student work and it was really nice and chill.

ANYWAY BACK TO THE STRESS. to give an example of the situation: our first homework for drawing class was to make this big ink master copy of a van gogh sketch, and it didn't have to be perfect, or even GOOD tbh, but regardless it took forever. and i spilled my ink on it which nearly led to a breakdown but instead i just laughed cause otherwise I'd go insane. the amount of podcasts and audiobooks i burned through that year just to keep myself sane was mind-numbing. i listened to, no joke, ALL of Well There's Your Problem, and i went back and listened to a lot of them more than once.

i was really lucky though, cause some other students had first projects that were like "bring in 50 drawings by next class" or "make a chair out of only cardboard that you can sit on without it collapsing" or something. and i never had a teacher that bad.

actually, my second semester design professor was really REALLY chill. He let me sleep in class if i finished the work so I spent a few hours in his class just chilling and sleeping fitfully (as in I was so stressed i would gasp and mutter myself awake, which really alarmed my classmates but i never got close enough to them to explain myself soooo they prolly just think something is wrong with me. which it is! oh well)

i can only speak for myself but i was basically working any moment i wasn't sleeping, eating, shitting, or showering. somehow other people made time to befriend each other and hang out and like, go to parties??? i dont know how. Frankly I don't even remember how i did what i did either, specifically I reached out to my college's mental health services and got on some medication for anxiety. I also somehow managed to write an essay for our student published thingy about how I wanted to kms and felt unsupported by mental health professionals lmao.

I have NO IDEA how i did any of that because this year i kept falling asleep for five hours in the middle of the day. my theory is that I got more done because I physically HAD TO STAY AWAKE. I COULD NOT ALLOW MYSELF TO FAIL.

I was so stressed out the first year that I often couldn't sleep without hugging my giant elephant stuffed animal or using it as a comforting weight on top of me. one morning i woke up hyperventilating and went to go cut a huge role of paper at like 6 AM because i was so worried about forgetting to cut the paper before i left before class at 8 AM.

so yeah, my theory is that since second year wasn't that insanely stressful, all those hours i spent eking out any artistic joy possible (making owl house comics, writing that essay, and painting my clothing) just to make sure i didn't kms were replaced instead with me just falling asleep at inopportune times, because I wasn't as scared that I wouldn't have time for my work.

OH MY GOD AND FIRST YEAR I GOT PUT IN TWO CONSECUTIVE GROUP PROJECTS WITH THIS ABSOLUTE MONSTER- but that could be its entire own post. suffice it to say that he had been reported multiple times for various things and one of my classmates recognized who i was talking about just from me vaguely complaining about how much i hated him.

anyway im sure there's even more that i forgot about but to be honest i think i've explained enough.

[sirfrogsworth]

The sad thing about bad writing of smart people is that it isn't actually that hard to write a smart person. They are generally pretty normal most of the time. They display the same spectrum of behaviors and personalities as anyone else. Introverts, extroverts, depressed, happy, kind or cruel. They are just people.

So you just invent a person like you would normally and consult experts for the stuff you want to sound smart. Christopher Nolan is actually pretty good on that front. When he made Interstellar he had Kip Thorne tell him when the script was stupid. But Matthew McConaughey's character seemed like a typical down-to-earth dad otherwise.

I feel like I'm pretty smart. My intelligence is analogous to my height. I'm 5'11" which is like an inch away from people saying I'm tall. But then I see someone who is 6'5" and realize just how far away I am from that. My 5'1" friends think I'm pretty tall, but I'm not going to be dunking any basketballs.

So my intelligence is a bit like... I can reach that top shelf for people but I'm never going to hear the joke, "How's the weather up there?"

One of my best friends growing up was a legit super genius. Like an 8 foot tall, dunk-without-jumping super genius. Almost won the national spelling bee a couple of times. But it wasn't like he was spouting off super smart things constantly. In fact, when we were playing he was trying to escape his intelligence responsibilities.

Because he was so smart he was expected to do *more* homework for advanced classes and study his spelling bee shit for hours every day. He didn't have a lot of time for recreation so when we were together he just played up being a goofy kid.

He told fart jokes well into adulthood. Those were his favorite. That was his level of humor. All of his hobbies were unchallenging to his mind. Mostly sports. You honestly wouldn't know how smart he was until he was forced to use his brain.

I remember we used to play games on his dad's Commodore 64 with the floppy disks that actually flopped. The big 5 inch ones. We'd play Family Feud and Jeopardy. And I'd feel like I was doing well because I'm pretty good at trivia. And it kind of perplexed me because my friend was really out of touch with pop culture—but he still beat me every single time. Usually close to a perfect score.

I asked him, "How do you know this stuff? You barely watch TV."

"I just remember the answers from playing before."

He memorized the answers!

Thousands of answers just stuck in his brain with no effort to commit them to memory.

They only let him skip one grade to keep him around kids his age. But I suspect he could have gone to high school much sooner than he did. Though I think they did the right thing. When they put 13-year-olds in college I think it is difficult to end up with a well-adjusted adult.

He flew through medical school and was one of the youngest Chief Residents in his program. He is now a pediatric rheumatologist. He chose that specialty because he thought every case was a challenging puzzle to solve. Apparently there is a shortage in that specialty due to how challenging it can be.

Whenever I get an ego about my intelligence I try to think of my friend to humble myself.

I think the two depictions of genius I like the best were both played by Matt Damon.

"Good Will Hunting" had some cringe moments when he was doing the "I'm super smart, do you like apples?" thing. But when he was just hanging with the boys he reminded me of my friend. Just constantly busting each other's balls. Shooting the shit. Enjoying collective boredom on a lazy Saturday.

And then "The Martian" got the other side of the equation right. When a genius is put in a situation where they need to turn on the smartypants afterburners, you get to really see the gears working. It's not just remembering stuff, but applying that good memory to complex problem solving. Having the awareness to know you don't know something and then figuring out how to gain that knowledge. That is the best way to demonstrate true intelligence. He doesn't *know* how to grow spuds on Mars. He sciences the shit out of it and figures it out.

Smart people speak with confidence about what they know. They are curious about what they don't know. They can learn at an accelerated pace. They have great memories for important details. (But sometimes poor memories for where they put their keys.) And, above all else, they are accomplished problem solvers. (But most of the time they are telling fart jokes with their friends.)

People think Elon is a drooling idiot. As I've said before, I don't think that is entirely accurate. I think he has a good memory like my friend. A good memory is a bit like a magic trick. And it can fool a lot of people into thinking you are an actual genius, even if you don't have any of the other attributes I mentioned above.

When Elon puts the energy into learning something, he can recall details very well. The story I've heard is that he memorized rocket textbooks. Going to Mars is probably his greatest passion. It might be the *only* thing he genuinely cares about. So he actually put in the effort to learn his shit.

When I watch him give a tour of SpaceX and answer spontaneous questions about his rockets, he seems like a different person. He stutters a bit less. He has added confidence in what he is saying. And he seems to really understand the science and engineering. I think his fatal flaw is that he sucks at problem solving. That is what he relies on his team of engineers for. And when he doesn't use them to problem solve, he ends up trying to shove a metal tube into a cave like a rescue suppository.

But then people started calling him Tony Stark and assumed he knew everything about everything. But he isn't a polymath. I'm more of a polymath than he is. He is a specialist. He knows a lot about one thing because he has a good memory and took the time to learn about it. And then he just bullshits about everything else.

He just assumes he is correct because people told him he is the smartest person in the world and his narcissistic ego convinced him that must be true. He gets frustrated when he doesn't know something so he lies to himself about knowing everything to cope. And to that end, he surrounds himself with people who don't challenge his bullshitting to keep up the facade.

There is a reason this is a meme...

The rocket enthusiast community see him speak so intelligently about said rockets they can't fathom he is just bullshitting about literally everything else. And the mental gymnastics they go through to defend him are next level. These rocket nerds are not like the idiot MAGA dorks. They are pretty smart in their own right. So they have to go all out to defend their Rocket Jesus. It's quite odd to see people saying the dumbest things imaginable all while making use of giant vocabulary words.

I call it Verbose Buffoonery.

Or Jordan Peterson-itis.

But Elon has not put in the effort to learn about all of the things he speaks about. He assumes his big brain can instantly deduce how things work. During COVID he thought he was an epidemiologist. When those soccer kids got stuck in a cave, he thought he was a rescue specialist. Now he is a government efficiency expert.

People started to see the smoke and mirrors behind his memory magic trick. He was no Iron Man. But sunk cost fallacy is powerful. And there are internet communities that made their entire personalities "Elon Musk fan." They just wanted fast electric cars or to see cool rocket shit and they have decided that is more important to them than a functioning democracy.

The frustrating part is he could probably learn a lot of this stuff. He is clearly capable of absorbing and understanding complex information. That's what I do. I spend hours and hours researching. I genuinely just love learning new things. But he doesn't think he needs to. He probably is too tired from his ketamine abuse to put in the effort. Plus he is busy tweeting 500 times per day.

When I was younger I could be an obnoxious know-it-all. And sometimes I would get carried away and speak with confidence on things I wasn't sure about. Being popular on the internet humbled me very fast. So I made a rule for myself. Always be self aware about what I don't know. Before I speak with confidence I always ask myself, "Did I put in the effort to speak about this at this level?"

That one rule has saved my butt quite a few times. I could have really embarrassed myself on many occasions. I mean, I still do from time to time (Keanu gun flip)... but not as often.

Now I like to think of myself as a delightful know-it-all. I stopped trying to impress people with my brain and leaned into the joy of sharing knowledge. I evolved from "look at how smart I am" to "check out this cool thing I learned." And it has made me much less insufferable.

I also am very curious. So I don't just spew out knowledge. I exchange it with other people. I ask questions about what they know. And then their knowledge becomes my knowledge.

But with my genius friend you really have to yank the genius out of him. I have to almost interrogate him before he will tell me cool doctor shit. He just wants to make fart jokes and watch football. People that smart don't always care to show it. They have nothing to prove.

And that is why I get suspicious of people who feel the need to constantly prove their genius.

Long story short... hexagons don't improve acoustics.

I'm so glad Elon made comedy legal again.

I haven't laughed this much in ages.

You see, because hexagons are the bestagons they have magic sound absorption properties. Every super genius knows this. If you made a room with *no* columns and installed nothing but hexagonal sound panels you could increase the acoustics to 160%. Maybe even 170% acoustics if you combobulate the speaker magnetrons.

This is like when bad TV writers who aren't geniuses try to write for characters who are geniuses. You end up with a lot of "reverse the polarity" and "humans only use 10% of their brain" and "I opened a backdoor through the firewall."

And whatever this is...

In Elon's case, his dipshit fans have to make up smart sounding stuff for him to say in their imaginations because he never says anything remotely intelligent in real life.

[lux-s-mind-com]

Dramatic Diary Entry #34

I thought people were joking when they said they couldn’t get the person they loved out of their head. Now I know they were not. Not at all. No matter where I am and what I am doing, I attribute all and everything to him, no matter how unrelated it may seem. He haunts me everywhere so I scan the room for him if I know he might be there and it is so hard not to stare at him all the time. It feels as if I just woke up one day and decided that he would be constantly occupying my mind from now on. There is a corner of my mind, reserved just for him, that I like to visit at those times that others would check their phone or chat with someone they barely know, simply to pass time. At the beginning, it did not get in the way of school. On the contrary, I was more motivated than ever to participate in class and spoke my mind. Only when the insecurities started to set in, when doubt disturbed me in my waking hours, pushing my sleeping hours behind, only then did it start to bother me. It had been so easy before, I didn’t think it would be too bad to think about him whenever I got the chance to. It felt natural and it felt right. And all of a sudden it had become a living nightmare, thinking about him all hours of the day, postponing sleep and work and hardly talking to friends. I went from an active student to someone who slacked off and showed little interest doing whatever the teachers asked me to do. It felt like I was going through hell. Each day I forced myself through to the other day and not even laying in bed helped. Nothing helped. Nothing excited me and all I could do was to think about him, anyway. What should I have done? I could only watch the shell left of me wander through the monotonous daily life as all my mind could pay attention to were my oh so grand movements. My weird gestures. My fluctuating tone of voice. What stupid things I said. And how dumb he must have thought I was. And really nothing could stop me from eating myself from the inside, just because I needed to understand, what it was that I was being and what it was that I needed to become. Who I needed to be to appease him and everybody I admired. To meet the expectations thrown at me whenever someone pointed out that I could use brain cells. Who are humans? What are they, really? Who did I need to be, in order to be a human? Are there wrong ways to be human? Is there a defect human? Was I doing it all wrong? Was I destined to be a defect, forever? Who are the defect people? We have to change them, don’t we? We have to show them the way to trully be human! They just don’t know it yet, but they are wrong. They were born defect.

I couldn’t stop thinking those thoughts. It is not that they wouldn’t let me alone. At some point, it was all in my control. It was me who couldn’t let go of this image of the bright kid who got excellent grades in elementary school without trying. I had somehow got lost in my path and I had to become that bright kid again, so that I could be someone. Someone who could stand in a room with extraordinary people feeling the urge to evaporate into thin air. If I could not be someone, what even was the point of being? My entire existence felt like a tragedy. I couldn’t grasp the fact that I still existed, within all these contradictions my mind had imprisoned me, I just couldn’t find a reason to be. So, I just survived day after day and hoped that someday I would figure it out. I had to believe that! There was no other way out of those contradictions. I had to become familiar with them, look at them from every angle possible and understand them. To know how they existed and what they meant. And it took a lot of observing and more patience than I had left to finally come to understand them. And by doing so, also understanding that I existed and that I had every right to do so. Really, it was the most liberated I felt after a long time. I was me again. I wasn’t that bright kid I remembered others had called me, but I was me, the kid who others did not see, who wasn’t “bright”, but was just curious about it all. Who loved. Loved books and their home, library (which also became my second home), the beach, brazilian sweets, mom’s cooking, writing, singing, and coincidentally also loved to learn about every subject they encountered in- and outside of school. That was me. Not shy but also not looking for much attention, just living in their own world, which is really the best world there is. Sometimes very bubbly, sometimes very cold. Scared a lot, but not afraid to speak their mind. I was me, existing in contradictions I didn’t see, which I didn’t need to understand. The important part was that I existed within them. I didn’t try to fit an ideal and be someone who I wasn’t. And I wasn’t ashamed of that. I simply accepted the reality I was in, and thereby accepted the contradictions others may have been confused by. And though many people find contradictions irritating, I think they are what makes the world such a strange and exciting and terrifying and monstrous place. It is the best place there is and I am the best me I could ever be.

[shayandwildlifepack]

I have been really going through it with bad memories from my life as Zuki lately, lol.

So, instead, I wanna share some good memories I have so I can balance out the bad.

Since I was like an older sibling to Izuku, I would let him help me preen my wings and shit, which is a thing for mostly family [and mates]. He was one of the only ones that I allowed to do this for a long time. Eventually, others from Class 1A got added to the list of people who were allowed to even touch my wings, let alone preen them. Hikari, my queer platonic partner, was the second person who I allowed to preen my wings [of my class], we may not have been romantic, but they were still my mate. Hitoshi was the third cause he was my little brother, legally this time, lol. Toshi was the least likely to ask to preen my wings though, even after getting permission to ask, I would usually have to ask him if he wanted to help for him to feel like he could, lol [it did come from his trauma though so it's ok, love you bro]. I allowed Denki to touch my wings and tail cause it would help with his ADHD sometimes, which mood I would play with my own tail to help my ADHD, lol. There are others, but these are the ones I feel like sharing rn.

Bro, I remember hanging out with the "girls" [I use quotes cause not everyone identified as a girl/woman]. We would have "girl's night," which once again not everyone identified with that gender but it's pretty much what we would call it, lol. It was fun. We would paint each other's nails. The ones who knew makeup and shit would help those who wanted to learn. And we would just talk about shit. I miss these "girl's nights" so much.

I miss the game nights we would have as a whole class. We had to ban some games cause of how people got, lol. Monopoly was the first one to be banned, lol. We would play Uno the most, even though people got very competitive [*cough* Bakugo and me mainly *cough*]. We also had to ban truth or dare, and I will not be explaining why, I think it's obvious why. Would you rather and never have I ever were allowed though, lol.

Dadzawa and Papamic would take me, Eri, and Toshi to do fun activities, such as arts and crafts, go trick or treating, and other fun shit, lol. I would usually end up carrying Eri at some point cause she loved to be carried, and it helped with my protective instincts, lol. I would usually wrap my wings around her while holding her, and she loved it. If someone who is good at art would draw that for me, I would love it [I don't have money rn so I'm not gonna commission anyone right now, but I might when I get enough money, lol].

I would never have described myself as good with kids, and I would say that I wasn't a lot. My friends and family tended to disagree with me there. They would bring up how good I was with Eri, Kota, and a kid who is not canon. But I would bring up in response that they were all traumatized kids that I latched onto in a sibling way mainly but also cause I saw bits of myself in them and didn't want them to not have someone. Other kids I was definitely not good with. I would say I'm not really good with kids in this life, even though at the church I am forced to go to, I help with the kids, lol. Kids are kinda weird.

I remember Remo, my service dog, and despite the fact that I had been so fucking upset that I needed another being/creature with me to function, I loved him. I remember when I would have him off duty and use my quirk to become a little wolfdog with wings spirit thing and play with him, lol. I also used that to play with Hikari, whose quirk let them become certain animals, lol. It was very fun to do these things and I miss being able to do that.

I really miss everyone. I miss my life as Zuki. I miss my pack. I miss my wings. I miss my tail. I miss my ears. I miss my sharp teeth. I miss my claws. I miss being Zuki physically.

- Zuki Shay Lupo (They/it/xe)

[stanleyisworking]

MOE Pt. 5: Lower Secondary Music Classes - Again, but Guitar!

At this point, I was slowly easing into my role as a Music Teaching Intern at Admiralty Secondary School.

I got used to waking up at 5.30am and heading out the door before anyone else.

I got used to making small talk with the bubbly senior teacher sitting beside my desk, listening to her share about the extra duties she has to juggle besides teaching, and her motherly nature of constantly telling me to eat because I packed my schedule more and more each day.

I got used to walking around the school corridors with my head held high, coming into my role as a teacher and not a student.

The kids have gotten used to my presence around campus as well and some of them have started to greet me in the hallways. Hearing "Goodmorning Mr Stanley!" feels kind of sweet.

Here are more photos from different days of teaching keyboard skills!

On a side note, remember Teacher W's class? The class that I felt would be challenging to build a rapport with?

After the first few times of consistently trying out the communication technique I mentioned, they started to open up to me as well. I would make a whole separate post about it, but I would probably go on and on.

To sum up, even though they were classified as the "rowdier" and "unmotivated" class by the teachers, I grew fond of them. While I went through my routine of joining their english/literature lessons and sitting at the back, some of them asked me on what a certain word meant - and I was flattered they trusted me enough to provide them english tips when they knew I was only here as a music teacher. When I identified a problem kid, I asked him to sit behind me at the back of the class and we took a look at the english worksheet together. This made them extra motivated, I guess due to the special attention I was paying to them - and their form teacher, Teacher W, did not mind at all and allowed me to integrate myself into her class however I felt fit.

This goes to show that every kid wants to learn.

In my opinion, the joy of learning needs to be cultivated rather than forced - and my approach throughout the past few days was to get to know them genuinely, rather than ask them questions about their studies or give them a specific agenda to accomplish. Of course, this was easier because they were not the kids I took for music and I did not have to push a specific lesson plan. Even so, I believe genuine conversations with students will always be helpful in their education journey. I am proud of Teacher W's class and wish them the best in their N levels!

Moving on, this post will re-focus on my efforts in conducting the classes I was tasked to teach.

Previously, I wrote about teaching keyboard skills to lower secondary levels. In this post, I will be focusing on guitar lessons instead. To clarify, keyboard skills were for Secondary 1 and guitar were for Secondary 2. Hence, this would be a whole different batch of Secondary 2 students that I have yet to meet.

One sentence summary? "My mentor threw me on the spot to give an impromptu performance."

And that was how I introduced myself to the new batch of students.

Honestly, even though I consider myself a trained performer, performing in a formal classroom setting for kids who might think you're too old or too "cringe" made me so nervous. I panicked and picked the most (hopefully) well-known song from Taylor Swift. Everyone loves Taylor Swift, right? I hope so!

When I captured their attention with "Blank Space", I quickly switched to "Love Story" and the kids started laughing. Laughter was a good sign, I thought to myself. It meant they recognized the song!

In the end, it wasn't so bad. The kids were now interested in what they could potentially do with the guitar and I caught onto why my mentor told me to perform for them first as a self-introduction.

The excitement afterward was great, though! A lot of the boys were lining up to get me to help tune their guitars so they could hurry up and play, and the girls were more reserved and shy, but asked my mentor for the same assistance as well.

Guitar lessons were off to a good start!

However, there were a few problems.

As the lesson progressed and I went through my slides of the day, I realized their initial motivation started to wane.

"So many chords to learn."

"I don't want to learn this song!"

"It's too painful."

Were a lot of the comments I heard and I had to bring back order in the classroom a few times. I have learned from my private teaching experience that kids tend to want the fastest way and easiest way to learn things, and they might give up quickly if they don't see results or realize how much effort they need to put in. Especially for music, not everyone was as passionate about it. I had to put myself in their shoes that music to a lot of them was just a form of entertainment and they had bigger problems to worry about such as their math exam.

How do I make this easier for them while still achieving my lesson objectives? I needed to make it through the slides that my mentor handed over to me. We needed to cover at least a few chords based on the syllabus, but they were already struggling with one.

Solutions:

Break it down even further. My principal study teacher at LASALLE, Dr Wong, would always break it down to the most minuscule detail - even if we had to repeat a word or vowel a few times. How can I translate this to guitar? Perhaps I could literally "break down" the class into groups? They were sitting in rows, so I could get one row to learn C, the other to learn G, so on and so forth until we could play a whole progression together.

There are a lot of ways to play the same chord. My mentor's examples on the slides are just one way. However, that might pose some confusion when I leave this school and my mentor has to resume teaching this class using her own chord voicings. It would be confusing for the students as well.

Once again, I only had a few seconds to think on my feet so I went with solution number 1.

I told the class we had a change of plans. I assigned each row to a single chord and made sure they knew what chord they were supposed to play and how.

My plan was to get a simple 4/4 down strum progression going throughout the classroom and they would achieve that by actively listening to the students' playing before their turn, and coming in when it was time for their row to play the next chord.

Shortly, Row A started with C for 8 bars successfully.

Then, Row B came in at the 9th bar to play G.

Finally, we have something going on! This was working.

I kept time by counting out loud and letting them know which chord was coming up next so they were always engaged and paying attention. My mentor assisted me in helping the ones around the class who were still struggling with their assigned chord - whether this was a fingering issue, or technique, etc.

I got through the end of the day by teaching 4 basic chords to this class. Of course, each row only learned one, but they could now hear a standard pop progression in their head and I counted that as a victory.

My mentor was happy as well! The only thing she had to add was "Stanley, I'm guilty of this too, but... next time, don't stand in one spot for too long! You lost some people on the side of the room."

I laughed cheekily and said I would keep that in mind next time. What a long and fulfilling day!

[nightowlwriting]

summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.

[im-in-vin-ci-ble]

Hello~ Can I request a Mark x fem reader who’s a lot like starfire and is very Powerful close to omni man and is also an alien princess but she lives on earth and they go to the same school and she’s also a solo hero who one day sees invincible fighting off a tough villain with the teenteam but is losing so she steps in to help and he recognizes her and starts getting all nervous since he has a crush on her and then after that they introduce themselves get to know each other and eventually work they’re way up to mark confessing and she says yes :3

(If possible can it be a slow burn im a sucker for slow burn tropes and stuff 😤)

A/N: I gotchu, this bout to be a lil long 😮‍💨 making the fem!reader a little more human, figured since she’s in an actual school for humans she’d need to adapt to the humor/culture so she doesn’t get suspicious

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Fem!Reader

Rating: M, some swearing and gross monster guts

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Mark is finally joined in battle by an alien princess who has caught his attention. Turns out she goes to the same high school, and if he can throw around 150-pound monsters across the street, surely he can confess his true feelings to a girl... right?

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?!" Rex Splode yelled as he wobbled up off the ground. "We've been on this thing for hours and it only has one damn cut!"

"Calm down Rex," Atom Eve said from behind, "You're gonna get even more tired from yelling."

The two watched as Dupli-Kate attempted to distract the scaly kaiju, replicating herself second after second to give space for Invincible to hit the monster by surprise. The kaiju's screech echoed throughout the city and shook the foundations of the surrounding buildings, forcing Rex, Atom Eve and Robot to move aside and save however many civilians they could.

"Invincible," Dupli-Kate shouted, "I can't keep up much longer!"

A sonic boom overcame the surrounding noise and Invincible appeared from the clouds. Dropping in at maximum speed, the young superhero balled his hand into a fist and took a deep breath. A loud battle cry escaped his mouth but it was cut short as the kaiju's heavy arm slapped him away just in time, throwing him through destroyed buildings until he landed on the pavement.

Out of breath, dizzy, and in a serious amount of pain, Invincible laid on the broken road for a second to regain his strength. The wind softly blew down on him as he focused his sight on a contrail leading towards him, and he watched as a girl in purple land right next to him.

She bent down and held him upright, "Invincible, are you okay?"

"Mmhmm," Invincible croaked with a defeated smile, "Totally fine."

His sight reverted back to normal and the first face he saw shocked him alive. It was her. They never talked in school and he was almost sure she didn't know his real name, but here she was, basically cradling him in her arms and calling him Invincible.

So she knows who I am. At least with the suit.

"Come on, that kaiju is about to be destroy the entire city," she said, helping him get back on his feet and flying away to the seemingly unbeatable figure.

He huffed, "Stay cool, Mark. She's here to help," and he followed suit.

This marked the first time he really interacted with the new superhero; he'd only ever see her on TV or read about how she saved people on the newspaper. He'd be lying if he said he didn't find her attractive — as do most guys his age — but watching her blast the kaiju with the green bursts of energy from her hands made her only even more appealing.

Invincible regrouped with the rest of the Teen Team. "I don't know what else we can do to this thing," Atom Eve admitted.

"I do," the girl spoke up. "Distract it as best as you can but stay far away from the stomach. When I tell you to take cover, make a run for it."

Robot replied, "That seems highly dangerous."

"Let's do it," Invincible quickly replied in a high-pitched voice.

Everyone looked over at him, surprised at the sudden change in his voice and just how fast he reacted in agreement. 

"Uh, it's a good plan," he nodded, causing the girl to shoot a warm smile his way. "I definitely think we should do it... if all of you... uh, think, we should."

Exhausted and out of options, the rest of the group followed her orders and took different corners of the monster. Dupli-Kate handled one leg, Rex Splode handled the other, Robot and Atom Eve took the arms, and Invincible went back to the head. The kaiju struggled to keep its focus on just one of the heroes, and while it remained preoccupied, the girl absorbed all the energy she could muster and flew straight for the stomach.

"Take cover, now!"

Invincible and the Teen Team moved away and they watched as the flying hero's eyes opened in a bright shade of neon green, both her arms extended out as a large ball of green formed around her hands. The rays exploded right through the kaiju and it shrieked in pain as she briefly disappeared into the stomach. The kaiju lost balance and slowly fell forward as the girl, her eyes still green, appeared on the other side and harshly fell down on the ground.

The kaiju landed on the street with a loud boom and the group ran towards the girl who was now covered in parts of the kaiju's digestive system.

"Okay, that's kinda gross," Rex Splode commented, to which Dupli-Kate quickly responded, "Shut up."

Invincible dropped down on his knees and wiped the blood and guts off her face. Subtly admiring her facial features up close, he couldn't believe (and almost felt stupid) that he never recognized her despite the fact that he almost saw her everyday.

The girl groaned in agony softly shook her head, her eyes fluttering open to the sight of Invincible's dark hair, goggles and yellow mask.

"Hey, hey," he whispered, "Are you alright?"

She sat up and hissed at her injuries, holding her head with her bloody hand. "Mmhmm," she gently nodded with a half smile, her eye one still shut. "Totally fine."

---

Mark had a hard time focusing on school. His body ached from yesterday's injuries and he suffered a few bruises from literally tearing through buildings. He made his way to his locker and rested his head on the metal door, dreading the fact that he still has an entire afternoon of classes to go. Closing his eyes in hopes to quickly recharge, his moment of peace was disrupted when a shoulder rammed into his chest and several books landed right on his toe.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," a voice exclaimed.

Mark's head snapped up at the sound of the voice. It's her. He momentarily froze and watched the girl bend down to pick up her things, and when he finally regained movement a split second later, he also bent down to help her out. He kept quiet as he tried to think of the coolest possible response to make her think that he was actually the coolest guy in school, but all he could think of was how heavenly and badass she looked yesterday.

"Thanks," she said as he handed her the book. "I hope your foot doesn't bruise."

They both stood up and he shot her a nervous smile. "T-totally fine," he replied, clearing his throat afterwards.

She crossed her brows at his response and nodded, and a look of suspicion replaced her worried demeanor.

"I'm Mark, by the way," he cleared his throat again and reached out his hand, "Grayson."

"Mark... Grayson, huh?" she responded, scanning his face as her suspicion grew. Her eyes finally landed on the hand that was waiting, and she took one last look into his eyes before deciding to shake it. "I'm Y/N," she introduced herself with a skeptical smile, feeling his sweaty palm wrapped around hers. "I'll see you around, Mark Grayson."

She walked away and Mark's eyes followed her trail as far as he could see. He quickly pulled out his phone to send a text to Eve, who was actually watching their interaction a few classrooms down.

"Mark," Eve called out as she moved towards him. “So I’m assuming...”

"You knew?” he asked her in disbelief. “Why didn't you tell me Y/N was a superhero? I just introduced myself to her as Mark Grayson and I'm almost positive she knows I'm Invincible."

"First off, it's not my secret tell," she answered with a shrug. "Second, you guys didn’t trade secrets or whatever?”

Mark shook his head in a panic, "No, but I'm guessing she also knows that I know her secret the same way I know she knows my secret." He rested his forehead on the locker door once again and groaned, "Ugh, I'm so into her, it isn't even funny. And this whole superhero thing just made it even more awkward."

Eve laughed, "Look, I'm not going to force her to tell you if she isn't up for it, but if you want, I can ask her to hang out with us later. Maybe — emphasis on maybe — my presence will make her comfortable enough to admit who she is."

"Okay, okay," he sighed, turning around to rest the back of his head. "My insides are dying."

"After the kaiju yesterday, be thankful you don't mean that in a literal sense."

---

Where in the hell is Eve?

Mark pulled out his phone for the third time in 10 minutes. Still no call or response from Eve to his text. He was getting evidently nervous; his palms were sweaty again and it felt like someone turned up the heat in Burger Mart. His left leg jerked up and down in anxiety as he stared at his phone, looking at the seconds on the clock icon tick by. If he were left alone with Y/N, he'd have no idea what to say. What does she like? Should I bring up the kaiju yesterday and praise Invincible? No, she'll just think I'm full of myself.

"Hey Mark."

He jolted and saw Y/N standing by the corner of the booth. "Hi!" he replied in that irritatingly high-pitched voice. Mark's heart began to race and the thoughts in his head ran wild. "Um... Have a seat. Sorry Eve isn't here yet, she actually hasn't answered my calls or my messages. Teenage girls, huh? What can you do?"

She crossed her brows again and chuckled, "That's fine, we can wait for Eve. But I think I'm more concerned about you."

"What do you mean?"

Y/N chuckled again, "You seem... nervous.”

He faked an obnoxiously loud laugh, “Me? Nervous?”

She watched him from across the table in silence, waiting for him to regain his composure.

When Mark couldn’t hear Y/N laughing with him, he finally shut up and shook his head. “Yeah, I am nervous, sorry,” he admitted, shutting his eyes tight. 

She giggled, “Totally fine.”

Hearing her say those two words calmed his racing heartbeat. A smile crept on his face and she reciprocated, their eyes locking for a few seconds before both their phones buzzed.

“Oh, I just got a text from Eve,” Mark said. 

“Me too.” She opened the message and began to read it out loud, “Sorry, can’t make it tonight. Something came up.”

“Have fun, you two,” he followed, his voice faltering. He placed his phone, screen down this time, back on the table and sighed, “Sorry, guess you’re stuck with me. That is, if you do want to stay and... hang out, and stuff.”

"Why wouldn’t I?” she replied, her warm smile easing Mark back into a relaxed state. “It’s nice to have a friend who...” she trailed off, “understands.”

“Understands what?” he asked.

“This thing people like us call life,” she answered. “You know, it took me a long time to acclimate here. I didn’t think I ever would, then I met friends who made this place feel like home. And home is a feeling I hadn’t felt in a really long time.”

Mark rested his elbows on the table and leaned in closer, “Well, I’m always here. You know, a-as a friend... or an acquaintance, even. I don’t, I don’t want to push it.”

Y/N giggled again, “You’re a funny man, Mark Grayson. This planet is lucky to have someone like you.” She reached out and held his hand, “And I’m even luckier to have you as a friend, or an acquaintance.” 

He felt the heat rush to his face and he could swear his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. The afternoon flew by in a hurry as they engaged in lengthy conversations, fatty fast food, and childhood stories. While Mark was open to sharing every tiny detail — down to the color of the bleachers at the park where he played little league — Y/N kept hers pretty vague, leaving out descriptions of family members and even the places where these stories happened. 

Mark’s phone buzzed again, but the vibrating pattern indicated it was a phone call. He turned the screen over and saw the unknown number; it was time to suit up.

“Shit, I’m sorry Y/N, but I need to go,” he said in a rush. “I have a... uh, an emergency.”

You couldn’t have thought of anything more specific?

“It’s cool. Um, don’t worry about it,” she said, shaking her head with her eyes glued to the vibrating phone. 

Mark’s one leg was already out the booth before he decided to finally just go for it. Sitting back down with his now quiet phone in his hands, he took a deep breath.

“Y/N, I think you’re really cool. Can I maybe, like, call you sometime, or something?”

Her lips formed into smile that extended to her eyes, and it was enough for Mark to melt a little. “Of course. Yeah, sure,” she replied in excitement and typed down her number on his phone. She handed it back, “Now you know how to reach me if you’re getting your ass whooped again.”

His mouth fell open as his shaky hands grabbed his phone. “Wait—”

She smoothly slid out of the booth, “See you later, Invincible,” she winked, “Don’t get killed today.”

---

Luckily for Mark, no one got killed today. Maybe a few wounds here and there, but nothing painful enough that will land him in the GDA hospital. After spending an hour in the shower, he finally managed to lie down on his bed and rest his body. He sank into the mattress and closed his eyes, taking in the seconds of undisturbed peace that have become rare moments since he got his powers. 

As he replayed the events of today’s fights in his head, his mind drifted off to the hours he spent with Y/N. He pulled out his phone and mustered the courage to press the dial button, and the repeating sound of the ringing was making his pulse race. 

“Hello?”

“Oh good, you didn’t die today.”

Mark chuckled and sandwiched his hand between his head and the pillow. “It wasn’t that bad today, just took a few hits,” he explained. “So listen, Y/N, I was wondering, uh—”

She cut him off, “What are you doing right now?”

“What?”

“What are you doing right now?” she repeated.

“Um, nothing, just getting some rest” he sat up and looked around. “Why?”

“If you’re not too tired, do you maybe...”

Mark smiled, “Maybe...?”

“I don’t know, sneak out? My roof is pretty comfortable.”

Silently fist pumping, he fully stood up and nodded, “Text me the address.”

Just as quietly as he exited his room via the window, he softly landed on Y/N’s roof. Swiftly flying up and greeting him, she took the place next to him and crossed her legs. 

“You’re right, your roof is pretty comfortable,” Mark said.

She chuckled at his remark then noticed a gash by his right temple. Her brows furrowed in worry, “You have a wound,” she said, making sure not to touch it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, softly holding her hand and placing it back down with his. “Totally fine.”

Those words brought her some sense of comfort as her eyes softened, causing her to unconsciously squeeze his hand. Mark’s eyes widened and he looked down at their tangled fingers, frozen for a moment.

“Is this... okay with you?” he asked.

She nodded. “Wanna lie down? Since my roof is so comfortable?” she asked with a smirk.

“Sure,” Mark chuckled, removing his hand from her’s and stretching his arm out as they lied down. Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, keeping her eyes up at the stars.

“Hey Mark?”

“Yeah?”

A moment of silence.

“Thank you for coming.”

He looked down at her as she met his eyes, “You’re welcome.” 

The two shared a smile, and Mark took a deep breath as he prepared himself for the words that were about to come out of his mouth.

It’s now or never, Mark. Now or never.

“Watching you kick ass yesterday was... really a sight to see,” he began. “You’re powerful and strong, but more importantly, brave. And you’re so fucking beautiful and kind and smart and...” Mark trailed off, sighing, “I never thought I would be in this position — with you next to me in a very comfortable rooftop under the stars.”

“Mark...”

“And I really like you. Like, really, really like you.”

“Mark.”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but I just wanted to let you know. It’s important that you know—”

“Mark,” she cut him off. “I like you too. A lot.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and covered his eyes with his free hand. “Oh thank god. Thank god!” he exclaimed.

Y/N shushed him, “You’re gonna wake up the neighborhood, Invincible.”

“Sorry,” he giggled quietly, “I got excited.”

She laughed and faced her body towards him. They locked eyes again, and Mark didn’t know if it was gravity or just the adrenaline that pushed him, but he finally leaned down and met her lips. Static ran through his body as he deepened the kiss, and he felt an excitement that was even more exhilarating than the first time he flew.

She pulled away and Mark ran his hand through her hair, resting his hand on her cheek. “How was that?” he asked.

She smiled gently and placed her hand over his, “Totally fine.”

[bangtae-sohotddaeng]

nugatory | p.jm. | drabble

pairing: jimin x reader (ft. taehyung)

rating: m (18+)

genre: smut | angst | college!au

summary: Park Jimin is many things. Park Jimin is a responsible, smart, handsome and musically talented Taekwondo black belt. Park Jimin is Kim Taehyung's best friend. Park Jimin is a good friend. Park Jimin is a compulsive matchmaker. Park Jimin is many things – but he is not the guy you should be sitting in a car with, right now.

warnings: swearing + sexual situations (nudity, semi-public sexual acts in a car, fingering, penetrative sex) + possible allusions to some infidelity if you squint?

word count: 3.2 k

note: y’all. i couldn’t let butter!jimin keep ruining my life without acting out a bit, could i? this one started off as a pwp, but then i ended up combining it with a plot i had in my head for a while, and this turned into more plot and less porn, but. i’m okay with that, tbh. also! i’ve used one my older styles of writing (going back to 2016-ish) with this one. hope you all like it~ 🥺💜

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

Park Jimin is many things.

He is an astoundingly handsome, cheerful – and yet somehow mysterious – psychology major that you shared Freshman year's communications class with. He is the only rich kid among the majority on campus that doesn't flaunt his wealth to scholarship kids like you. He is kind, helpful, generous – did you mention handsome? – perfectly athletic and perfectly aesthetic.

Park Jimin is a responsible, smart, handsome and musically talented Taekwondo black belt.

He is also someone that gets excited at the prospect of claw machines at fairs. He is also someone that looks at the universe with galaxies in his eyes. He is also someone that doesn’t realize he will always be more exquisite than any art his best friend might ever create.

Park Jimin is Kim Taehyung's best friend.

He is the guy that stood next to Kim Taehyung when Taehyung asked you to the Freshman dance. He is the guy that told you Kim Taehyung has the most gigantic crush on you. He is the guy that set you up on the first of your many dates with Kim Taehyung.

Park Jimin is a good friend.

Park Jimin is a compulsive matchmaker.

Park Jimin is many things – but he is not the guy you should be sitting in a car with, right now.

"You really don't have to worry about me, Jimin," you mumble, eyes flickering all over his face – you always tend to drink him up the best you can, whenever you can. “I know I stupidly called you here, but I was just in shock. I’m okay, now. I’ll be fine.”

"No, I do have to worry." His fingers thread through his hair, your eyes hopelessly follow. "This was stupid and reckless of Tae. I'm sure he'll come back to his senses soon."

You blink. Jimin really has absolutely no grasp of this situation. But he obviously thinks he knows everything, which is making this conversation progressively difficult.

(His muscles bulging beneath his jeans and the t-shirt he wears are a contributing factor in making this conversation difficult, too, you won't lie.)

You breathe out, partly to collect your thoughts, and partly because you've been inhaling too much of his heady cologne and it’s making you think about—

Things. 

It's making you think about things. That you should have no business thinking about. Because you and his best friend have been going on dates. The same best friend who is currently, as you speak, on a date with someone else. Alluding to the reason why you have called up Park Jimin to see you in a confused panic, after ten, at night, at your place.

"Taehyung – he, um. He didn't see us going anywhere. We'd been on nine dates, but… He said he didn't think I was actually as into him as he is into me. He didn't want to go on like that." 

Jimin’s lips part. His brows hike up. You shrug, forcing your gaze away from the gloss on his lips.

“It’s been that way for a while. We were barely even texting. I think he has concluded that I don’t like him like that.”

Jimin rests his forearm on the steering wheel, almost leaning over the center console to catch your gaze. "Do you?"

His eyes pull you in like always and you're lost, just staring into their depths, as your mind ceases to think up thoughts that don't involve you and him naked and tangled up with each other in—

"Sweetheart?"

Your intake of breath is sharp, short and cold. Your insides are just as warm, turning everything in your head into incomprehensible mush. "Y–y–yeah?"

"Are you into Taehyung the way he is into you?" he whispers, and you follow the shape of his lips as they move. “Because you must know, he’s liked for a whole semester.”

You lick your lips, mindlessly nod, and then reach out with a finger to trace his cupid's bow. He doesn't pull away, he doesn't even flinch. "What do you think?"

His warm breath washes over your fingertip as you press it against his lower lip. His body jolts when your nail rims the plush cushion. "I… think he's my bestest friend in the world and he's basically in love with you…"

You shake your head, and your other hand travels past the console to grip his thigh. Your nails dig in. His breath catches. "He's on a date with someone else, as we're speaking."

"I just—he was so into you, I thought you'd be good for each other." 

Past the cloud of, well, something incomprehensible, there is disappointment in Jimin's gaze. And that is how you know he means it. You shouldn't be surprised, really, because Park Jimin always means everything he does, he doesn't have a single conniving bone in his body, but you still are. Part of you has hoped against hope that he set you up with Taehyung to get closer to you, himself. Which – sounds like a really flawed plan and doesn't really make much sense, now that you think about it.

But you still hoped.

Now—

Now, though. Now you know otherwise.

"How can I be good for someone else when I have never even been good for me?" you don't know why you confessed to that, but the words just tumble out of you and you let them. "I'm a mess, Jimin," you whisper, accentuating your point by massaging his lower lip by your index finger. "I destroy people, and I nearly destroy myself in the process. I am an emotional and psychological train wreck. He's better off without me. Anybody would be better off without me."

Jimin grips your hand on his thigh with his own. “Not anybody,” he murmurs, and through his furrowed brows and muddled eyes, you catch an emotion you have been well acquainted with for years, now.

Longing.

Your heartbeat picks up as Jimin massages small circles on the back of your hand. You remove your other hand from his face.

“Yes, Jimin, anybody,” you say with conviction, even as you desperately hope for him to offer himself up as an alternative. “Everything is a wreck inside of my head. I can’t do relationships, I can’t even date someone without messing up.”

His pupils expand and his tongue flicks at his lower lip. His hand tightens in a grip on your other hand. His gorgeously bleached hair curl over the side of his head. "You don’t have to date, then.”

You scoff. “Taehyung would never go for—”

“I’m not talking about Taehyung,” Jimin’s voice comes out three octaves lower. “And you’re not talking about just anybody.”

You nearly stop breathing as he brings his free hand to your face, pushes a tendril of your hair behind your ear and traces a knuckle down the side of your face, your jaw, to hold your chin.

“You say you’re not good for you. Can you try to be good for me, then?" He pulls your face closer to his. “Would you let me save you from destroying yourself? Let me try to take care of the wreckage, hmm?”

Your body spasms when he reaches for the hand you’d retracted, pecks your finger before pulling it into his mouth. His tongue swirls, his teeth scrape and his eyes roll back as he sucks. He lets go with a pop. 

Boy, would you let him take care of whatever he wants.

"Can you, sweetheart? Can you be good for me?" He sounds like he’s at the brink of something, just teetering on the edge, waiting for you to flick a finger before he free-falls.

Well. You’ve been teetering for years now.

"I want to be.” You don’t sound like yourself when you speak.

And you don't sound like yourself when he pulls you on top of him. You don’t sound like yourself when your back hits the wheel, your thighs cage his, your hands instinctively twirl in his hair, and –

Your core presses up against his length. 

He's hard and straining against his tighter than sin jeans. You claw at his t-shirt. He takes it off in a swift, smooth motion — agile and rhythmic in everything he does.

You don’t feel like yourself when your eyes feast him. Because how could you ever get this lucky? How could you ever get to feel Park Jimin’s shirtless self beneath you? You had long since succumbed to your destiny of perishing in pining.

And yet, here you are.

You lean back to marvel at his toned, chiseled angles, you let your fingers smooth over every groove and crevice and line of sinew muscle you can reach. You trace his tight abdomen, nails scraping at the last of his eight-pack before veering towards his toned v-line. You shiver at the dark promises it leads to, looking up to meet his eye. And you shiver more when his feral gaze catches you.

Then he pulls you into a kiss and you're lost.

He tastes like stale coffee and breath mints and bad decisions –

He tastes delicious.

His tongue plunders your mouth, teeth bite into your lips—he pulls, pushes, drinks up, feasts. You throw your all into the kiss, meeting him in the middle with your tongue swirling with his, teeth latching on to suck at it. He groans into your mouth – all loud, and guttural and manly. And then he stops. Pulls away.

His wholly black eyes dig into yours. His lips are wet, swollen and bitten. You did that.

"You have to at least talk to him—"

"I have another important business to tend to, currently."

You grind against him and make your point. He bites down on his lip. His arms snake around your waist to cage you against him, he pulls you down on him. 

You don't recognize yourself when you moan.

Your shirt is off, your shorts are pulled down and your panties are pushed to a side—

"You can never tell him." Park Jimin glides two fingers over your wetness, making a bigger mess of you. "Never."

You don't intend to, because what you do with Park Jimin in your apartment's parking lot at eleven pm on a Saturday night is nobody's business but yours. 

His fingers part your entrance and slide in you abruptly, and you see stars. Your head tilts back on a long, drawn out moan, Jimin’s fingers picking up pace inside you. You rock on his hand, you claw at his arm, you desperately latch onto his shoulders and rest your forehead against his to ground yourself. He watches you with his half shuttered eyes threatening to eat you up whole. 

His lips press into yours, tongue swiping through your mouth, curling up behind your teeth – it's messy, it's sloppy, it's the most arousing kiss of your life.

His lips drag down the column of your neck, tongue licking at the sweat droplets quickly gathering above your collarbones, his fingers curl inside you, his teeth latch onto your shoulder.

You explode under his thumb's press against your clit and sob into his neck when he drags its nail over the sensitive bud. “Jimin, Jimin, too much~ ah!”

He presses some buttons in his fancy car and his seat inclines. He pulls you to the backseat with him. “You okay?” he breathes on your face, hovering inches above you.

“Never been better,” you truthfully breathe back, heart coiling in your chest at the radiant grin he rewards you with in response.

A blast of hot air hits your forehead, your thighs and your shins. You jump, realizing he has turned some sort of hot air blower on. “For privacy,” he says, gesturing to the rapidly fogging windows, and then flicks a switch to make the air stop.

You both gaze at each other. Your eyes flicker all over his face to save every last bit of it to memory. You self-consciously swallow when you see him do the same. “Jimin…”

He leans down to sponge a kiss to your sternum, and then your hips buck into his as his tongue licks a path on the wells of your breasts peeking above your bra. A breathless moan leaves you when he scrapes his teeth over your cloth covered nipple.

You both pause for a moment, wide eyes locking in surprise.

And then you’re ravenous.

He strips you bare when you tug at his belt, and you rush to return the favor. You struggle with getting his boxers past his plump ass as he grips onto your flesh, peppering bites down your hips, squeezes your boobs, licks at your nipples—

You grip him, warm and heavy, and glide your thumb over the leaking tip. His head falls into your nape, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. “Jimin, ple~ase,” you moan.

He plucks out a golden foil from his wallet, meeting your eyes as he tears the packet and rolls the condom onto himself. 

Your hands are pinned next to your head in a flash, his tongue teases your pulse point, teeth toy with your earlobe, and you writhe in want under him, eyes watering at the sweet torture.

And then he fills you up with a single thrust.

You freeze on a gasp.

His hair hangs over his eyes, irises lost to the lust storming in his pupils, his mouth gapes open, his chest is heaving.

“You good?” His voice is deeper than the ocean.

You've never been more turned on in your life.

He hisses at your frantic nod. “Words.”

“Yes. Yes, oh my God, Jimin, move—”

He thrusts into you at an unforgiving pace. Your whole world literally tilts off its axis as he meets that spot inside of you, and your body wrings beneath him, twisting up to hold onto some buoy to ground you, but he is unrelenting even as you grip at his neck — his teeth encase his lower lip, brows furrow and eyelids flutter as he drives deep into you.

You groan at the sight, moving your hips to meet him. You rock with him, never catching your breath, and your nails just dig dig dig into his meaty back, drawing patterns all over the smooth, delicious surface.

Your release closes in on you, and you chase it with your mouth clamping onto Jimin’s neck, your eyes screwed shut as you groan into his skin, until—

He draws back, standing on his knees above you like goddamn Adonis in this goddamn huge SUV of his, and the sight of sweat droplets trailing down his neck, framing his pecs and racing down his tight abs has your whine of protest dying in your throat as you gawk. His lips are parted as he breathes, a couple of sweat soaked hair strands sticking to his brow, and his eyes — 

Oh God, his eyes have an animalistic gleam in them as he hooks his arms beneath your knees, and drags your hips to him.

You cry out when he enters you at this angle, every thrust pushing at what feels like your cervix, and the pleasure is so blinding it's almost painful. One of his hands maneuvers to your center, a finger rubbing at your clit, and you yelp out a distorted version of his name, completely unwarned when waves over waves of hot, sweet, toe curling climax crash into you.

Jimin chases you into completion, his broken moan of your name filtering to you through the post-orgasmic buzzing in your head. His lips connect with yours as he relaxes your legs. You both pant into each other's mouth after two, lethargic, sticky kisses.

Your sweaty bodies make a disgusting sound when you detach, and both of you scowl together, laughing when you catch each other’s expressions. You sit up on jelly legs, barely able to sit on your ass when your sensitive center protests. 

You both dress up in silence, although you don’t feel it to be awkward in the least.

You’re still mulling over how to frame in words what you have felt for him for nearly three years, how to tell him and even what to tell him when you’re such a relationship-phobe, when Jimin releases a long sigh.

You look up in surprise. That was not a contented sound. It was one of… was it defeat?

Jimin looks at you with a serious face.

Your heart plummets.

One of the many things that make up Park Jimin is also his brutal morality. And right now, you can see it in his face that he thinks he’s done something wrong. Your shoulders hunch up in subconscious defense — you will not say a word, you decide.

“Taehyung is my best friend in this entire world,” he begins, stomping firmly on any remaining embers of hope left in your chest. “He can never, ever, ever know this happened, okay?”

You give a numb nod.

“I’m sure he’ll come back around and try to talk to you again. If that happens, don’t feel like you owe me anything, okay?”

You look up to find Jimin’s eyes searching your face. He looks so soft and grave and sad, that it hurts to look at him. You look down and nod again.

“I — I feel like you two will happen, you know, when the time is finally right.” His words sound stiff. Practiced, even. “Don’t let this come in the way of that.”

Even though you decided you wouldn’t say anything, your mouth is nearly bubbling with too much to say, at this point. You take a deep breath. “And what if he doesn’t come back. What then, Jimin?”

Jimin looks at you with wide, clueless eyes. “He…will. At some point.”

“And what about until he comes back? Am I expected to wait around?”

Something crumples in his expressions. “No, of course not. You can do whatever you want. Even after he comes back, you don’t owe anybody anything.”

“Whatever I want, you say?” you ask him quietly, your heart thudding in your throat.

Jimin swallows, obviously catching on. “I mean…I guess?”

“You guess?”

He licks his lips and his gaze zeroes in on yours. “Whatever you want, yes. Certainly.”

“Great.” You take his acquiescence for what it is, and grab his wrist. “Okay, then. Until he comes back, right?”

Jimin nods, haltingly, gaze switching between your hand and your eyes. “Right.”

You feign a smile you don’t actually feel because something about this doesn’t sit right with you. This boy, you realize, deserves a lot more than being someone’s dirty little secret. He is Park Jimin, after all, a guy that is so many things that you could never run out of listing them and— 

Park Jimin is a gorgeous celestial metaphor in himself.

Because he may look at the universe with galaxies in his eyes, but he is your only galaxy, and all your stars shine at you through him when he smiles. 

Park Jimin is many things — but he is not the guy you want to just casually fuck.

But your pathetic self would take anything he would allow.

And so you pull his hand and stumble out of his SUV, sharing shy glances with him as you pull him with you up the stairs, all the way to your dorms.

Park Jimin is many things—

To you.

nugatory (adj.) – worth nothing or of little value.

[loveelle]

Saturday

Luke Patterson x Reader

Request from Anon: Luke Patterson prompt? Luke (ghost) likes to flirt with reader every chance he gets? Kind of like the scene with Julie/Nick at her lock? He even gets a little jealous?

And Request from Anon: Julie and the boys try to convince her best friend she’s in love with a ghost? Luke Patterson x reader?

A/N: Two requests done in two days??? Who is this girl writing because damn she’s productive for once!??! I’m also sorry that this one is like so abrupt in the ending, I write the same damn endings for every fic and it’s fine, but I’m getting bored with myself, so I’m trying to figure out where to go with the endings, which means... absolutely nothing. lol.

WC: 3.2K

MASTER

---

“Do you think this shirt makes me look good?”

You nearly jump out of your skin and let out a squeak as the sudden appearance of Luke next to you. Offering the people around you an apologetic smile, you hold up your phone and pretend like someone was talking to you. As soon as the attention was off you, you turn back to Luke who was laughing hard and send him a glare. “Must you decide to jump scare me when I’m at school?”

He smirks at you as he leans on the lockers and crosses his arms. “When I get that kind of reaction? Of course, I must.”

You roll your eyes at him. “What did you want?”

“Oh, does this shirt make me look good?” He pulls his shirt out from his body, making you gulp as your eyes flicker down.

“Nope.”

Luke scoffs playfully at you, knowing you were just messing with him. “Haha.” He mocks and you can’t help but smile.

“Why did you need to know? It’s not like anyone could see you besides me and the band.”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs and the smile on his face only gets bigger. “Always gotta look good in front of a pretty girl.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at Luke’s flirting as you turn back to your locker, lodging your phone which you had been pretending to talk on, between your shoulder and your ear when you pull out the last of your books. “And you went with that shirt?” you joke and watch Luke put a hand on his chest and pretend to be wounded. You laugh softly before you close your locker and start your walk to class with Luke next to you.

“Y/N! Wait up!” A voice calls out from behind you two as you spin around, seeing a kid from your math class jogging to catch up with you. When he finally stops in front of you, you hesitate glancing to Luke only to see his jaw locked as he stares down the boy.

“Gotta go. Bye.” You say into your phone before shoving it into your pocket. “Hey Daniel, what’s up?”

“I was hoping to get to walk you to class.” The smile on his face makes Luke’s jaw clench only more as he looks to you, only to see the smile on your face.

“He wants to walk you to class.” Luke says and you pretend to ignore him, focusing on Daniel.

“You don’t have to do that.” You assure him and Luke forces a smile, turning to square up to Daniel.

“Yeah, you don’t have to do that. I’ll walk her.”

“It’s no trouble, it’s on the way to my class.” You know there wasn’t much of a way to get around this so you suck in a breath and nod. As Daniel moves to walk by your side, you shoot a glance back to see Luke jaw dropped as you walk away with Daniel. You chuckle softly at him and he snaps out of his daze.

“I’m coming with!” He shouts over the sea of kids and sooner than not, Luke was on your other side.

“So, I was wondering,” Daniel begins, turning slightly as he walks to talk to you, “if you were free this Saturday like I am, maybe we could hang out.”

You were taken back by Daniel’s offer. “Uh, Saturday? Like, tomorrow Saturday?” you ask and Daniel nods, hopeful that you’d say yes. You ignore the comment Luke made under his breath as you think about Daniel’s offer. “Uh, I think I might have plans tomorrow.”

Luke furrows his brows and scoffs. “You don’t have plans tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I have plans tomorrow.” You repeat, looking away from Daniel briefly to Luke and scowl at him. You wince, however, when you realize Daniel couldn’t hear Luke refuting your plans.

“Oh.” Daniel frowns. “Maybe Sunday?”

“How about never?” Luke mumbles and you bite your lip, tightening your hold on the books in your arms.

“I’m not sure. I have to check.” Daniel’s face brightens at the possibility of going on a date with you and you feel bad for knowing Sunday would come and go and Daniel wouldn’t be getting that date. “This is my class.” You point briefly to the door that was ajar for students to enter and Daniel moves past you to his own class as he turns around to talk while walking backwards.

“You have my number, right?” He calls out and you nod, pulling your lips into a thin line to at least try and smile. “Cool, uh call me or text me if you’re free!” He points at you and you give him an awkward thumbs up. He smiles at you one last time before running down the hall to his own class.

“She won’t!” Luke calls after him before turning to you smugly. You let out a heavy breath and pull out your phone before resting against the wall and avoiding looking at Luke. “So, what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Luke.” You chastise him, giving him a glare that you quickly drop out of fear there was someone behind him thinking you were glaring at them.

“I’m just asking you know, in case you wanted to drop by Julie’s and watch us practice. You know how much I love seeing you there.” He leans on the wall next to you, meeting your eye as his lips tug up in a smile. “That is, unless you did already have plans?”

You roll your eyes and control the smile making way on your face. “If you weren’t already dead, I’d kill you.”

“So, I will be seeing you Saturday?”

“Yup.” You say before shoving your phone in your pocket and walking into the classroom.

You hear Luke laugh behind you and you can’t control the smile any longer, letting it take over your face as he shouts at you. “I thought so.”

“Oh, shut up.” You mumble and fall into your seat, beginning the long wait until class was over and you could go over to Julie’s and relax.

---

You were draped across the couch in Julie’s studio, Luke’s guitar in your lap as you strum gently on it, playing the chorus of a song that’s been stuck in your head for almost a week. While you were humming under your breath, you don’t notice Julie walk into the studio.

“Luke’s gonna kill you if he catches you playing that.” Julie calls over, making you laugh.

“He can try.” You smirk. “But I’m not afraid of ghost boy.” Despite not being afraid of Luke, you did put his guitar back where you found it.

“Let’s not ignore the fact he wouldn’t kill you because you’re both in love with each other.”

You let out a laugh and Julie raises a quizzical brow at you. “Luke’s not in love with me and I’m definitely not in love with him. I think I’d know if we were in love with each other.”

“Y/N, Luke could get down on one knee and propose to you and you’d still think he just sees you as just a friend.” Julie deadpans and your jaw drops. The corners of your mouth twitch into a smile as your best friend doubles over in laugher.

“You are so mean!” you gasp out, picking up a pillow and tossing it over at her. In the middle of doing so, the boys appear right in your line of fire. The pillow went right through Luke’s chest as he furrows his brows, looking between you and the girl behind them who can’t control her laughter.

“Did we miss something?” Alex points between the three of you and you shake your head, not wanting to repeat what Julie had just told you. There was no way they were right. Luke wasn’t in love with you and you weren’t in love with him. Simple as that.

“Okay then.” Luke’s words were slow as he eyes you and blow away any confused thoughts as he takes the spot next to you, draping an arm over the couch behind you.

“Nope.” You say and shoo him off the couch. “You have rehearsal.”

“Oh, but I’d rather stay here right here next you.” Luke’s smile had your cheeks heat up but you pretend to gag, making everyone laugh as well Luke. He pushes himself off the couch, refusing to look away from you until he has his guitar in his hands and turns to his friends. He was met with several different smirks knowing exactly what Luke was doing flirting with you.

Julie moves past him all the way until she was by your side and sending her smirks to you. Your eyes widen and you grab another pillow and hit her with it. She grabs it before you can get a second swing in and hit you back with it.

“Stop!” you laugh out a Julie keeps hitting you with it, giving you enough time to grab the last pillow on the couch and try to defend yourself. The band was watching on, Luke’s focus was strictly on you, trying to memorize the way your smile made your eyes close tight and the way your laugh fills the air. Until you land on your back on the floor and knock over the glass of juice you brought out to the studio with you before rehearsal began.

You freeze as the cold drink covers you, your mouth still upturned in a smile as Julie stands over you. She drops the pillow back on the couch, her hands covering her mouth as she gasps. “I’m so sorry!” You let out a small laugh, reaching your hand up for her to help you up.

“Don’t worry about it.” You assure her when you get to your feet, looking at the way your shirt was soaked.

“Are you okay?” Luke asks you and you gave him a funny look before sighing.

“It’s just juice, Luke. I think I’ll live.” Luke nods, glancing to the ground before meeting your eyes again and you took a deep breath before turning to Julie. “Hey, Julie? Can I borrow a shirt?”

Julie nods and grabs your hand to take you inside. You follow her without a word, only a glance back over your shoulder to see Luke watching you. Once you were out of Luke’s sight, Luke tosses his head back and groans.

Reggie and Alex laugh at their friend’s struggle. “Dude, just ask her out.”

Luke rolls his eyes at Alex’s advice, knowing that a relationship between you and him wouldn’t work. “I’m not going to ask her out.”

“Why not?” Reggie faked whined and Luke gave him a pointed look.

“Should I start with the fact that even though we can touch each other, I’m dead and she’s not? Or the fact that she’s not interested?” Alex and Reggie share a look that made Luke’s brows draw close. “What?”

“She’s interested.” They say at the same time and Luke take a deep breath, glancing to the door before shaking his head.

“How do you know?”

“We know.”

“Then could you let her know?” He points towards the door, his finger dropping seconds before you and Julie and enters the studio and you were donning one of the oversized sweaters Julie had stashed in her closet.

“Thanks again for letting me borrow this.” You tell her, holding the door open until she was inside.

“Course, you can just give it back tomorrow when you come over for rehearsal.” You nod at her, making a note to wash the sweater tomorrow morning before you come over.

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Luke interrupts your thought as you and Julie glances up, seeing Alex and Reggie growing confused like you and Julie were.

“Hear what?” Julie speaks up, looking between the boys, thinking it had something to do with them. You catch Luke’s eye, seeing the way his lips tug in a smirk and you realize what this was about.

“Luke.” Your voice was low and he knows you were trying to get him to keep things hush.

“Y/N’s busy tomorrow.” He reveals and falls onto the couch, kicking his feet up on the table in front of him.

“What?” Alex calls over, a look of surprise struck across his face and you kind of take offense to it. “You are?”

Your mouth opens, not knowing what to say before you shake your head. “No.”

“No?” Luke repeats, pretending to be confused.

“No.”

“But I thought you were and that’s the reason you couldn’t go out with Daniel?” Your eyes close and you let out a sigh as Luke spills and you weren’t prepared as Julie gasps and grabs your arm.

“Daniel asked you out?” She looks almost mad as you turn to her.

“Um, maybe?”

“And you said you were busy? Are you crazy?”

“Well, I-” you stammer out, trying to form a thought on what to say.

“Y/N!” Julie stops you from coming up with an excuse. “You have to go out with him!”

“Woah,” Luke was off the couch in an instant, suddenly realizing that the idea to mess with you wasn’t all that smart considering Julie was stubborn and would get what she wanted, which in this case was for you to go out with someone who wasn’t him. “Well, I don’t think she has to do that.”

“Quiet Luke, this doesn’t involve you.” Julie snaps at him, seeing him gulp as he looks between you and Julie.

“I’m just saying, like maybe she is busy!”

“She’s not.” Alex butts in once he realizes that this could be Luke’s chance to tell you how he felt.

This time your look of annoyance was sent to Alex and he knew you wouldn’t last much longer. “I’m am.”

“Doing what?”

You bite your lip, letting your eyes move around the room inconspicuously until your mouth speaks on its own. “…Pilates?”

“Pilates?” Julie clarifies and you run a hand through your hair, hiding your face briefly before nodding. “Y/N, I don’t even think you know what Pilates are.”

“I know what Pilates are!” You practically screech as your friends all glare at you, except Luke who looks almost as panicky as you. “Okay fine,” you give in. “I just didn’t want to go on a date with Daniel.”

“Why not?”

Luke lets out a breath you were sure he meant to be a laugh, but you could almost sense his nerves. “Does she have to have a reason?”

“Yes!” Everyone shouts at him at once you cover your face, backing out of the room and letting yourself outside to get some air.

Luke wanted to go after you and apologize for bringing up Daniel’s date, but the moment he took a step, Alex stops him with a hand on his chest and shakes his head. “You should stay here.” He says and Luke scoffs.

“I’m not going to-”

“Luke.” Julie cuts him off. “We’ve got this.” For the first time since the argument started, Luke believes they’re on his side and lets them go outside and leave him alone in the studio, only growing more anxious by the passing second.

You were seated on the steps outside as Julie, Alex, and Reggie all come outside, making you groan. “You guys, I really don’t want to talk about Daniel anymore. Can you just go back and rehearse?”

“How about we stay out here and don’t talk about Daniel?” Reggie offers and you hesitate before nodding. That sounds… fine? They take seats on the steps around you before Reggie throws his arm over your shoulder. “Let’s talk about how you’re in love with Luke.”

You groan, shoving Reggie’s arm off you and turning to Julie. “You told them your stupid theory?” you grumble and Julie puts her hands up.

“I didn’t need to. They figured it out by themselves.” You roll your eyes.

“There’s nothing to figure out.” Your voice was quiet as your head dips, chewing on the inside of your lip. No one said anything as your sights move up from the ground, clocking each saddened look before you give in. “What do I do about it?”

Evil grins, that’s how you would explain the 3 different looks being shoot your way. Of course, none of your friends were evil, only excited, but nonetheless, you were terrified.

“Well, we have good news.” Alex begins and you listen eagerly. “If we can tell that you’re in love with him- and don’t fight back on that, you are- then we can also tell that Luke is in love with you.”

You inhale deeply. “You’re sure about this?” 3 eye rolls were all you receive. “I just have to know before I go in there and screw up the best friendship I’ve got.”

“Hey!” Julie nudges your arm. “I thought we had the best friendship!”

“We do, Jules.” You say sweetly and Julie’s brows raise out of annoyance and unbelievability.

“She’s just not in love with you.” Reggie adds on you hide your face as you groan, hearing your friends laugh all around you.

“Advice. That’s all I need.” You remind them and the laughing stops, finally being replaced by your friends telling you what to do.

---

Luke had been pacing since the moment his friends all stepped outside. He knew Alex and Reggie at least knew how much he liked you and it was the only hope he had that Julie wouldn’t convince you to go on a date with Daniel.

His thoughts ramble in his brain until finally the door opens and you step inside alone, tugging on the sleeves of Julie’s sweater. He freezes only seconds before your eyes lift up to his. Luke takes a breath of courage. “I don’t want you to go on a date with Daniel.”

His words stun you as your brows lift briefly and you clear your throat. “Um, and why is that?”

Luke couldn’t answer. He can’t. He wants to tell you that it was because he was falling for you, that every time he’s flirted with you it’s because he likes you and he likes hearing you flirt back, he likes imagining that someday by some miracle, you’d be a couple and do actual couple things, that he could make you happy. His mess of thoughts were cut off by a pair of lips. They were soft and plump, and had several bite marks lining them, but they felt perfect against his.

Luke pulls you closer as you kiss him, your hands gripping the sides of his tank top as he cups your face to pull you closer. Alex’s advice plays on repeat in your head and suddenly, you were very thankful you decided to listen to your friends.

Just forget everything and kiss him.

.

.

.

.

[catastrophe-at-sixteen]

strawberries and cigarettes (m)

Jungkook x reader

“For a biology project, you and your class are going on a field trip to collect evidence for your hypothesis. It is all going well until the dark haired nuisance called Jeon Jungkook decides to piss you off.”

Also - a nerd. The resident bad boy. The police. Annoying friends. A loose psycho killer. What could go wrong?

This is my first time ever uploading any fics !! im super nervous haha - i'll probably post a little of each one and see how it goes !!

Jungkook x reader.

This is your classic enemies to lovers but with a slight little twist!

This is set in the 80s/90s and is your typical bad boy/nerd girl trope- but , there is a killer on the loose. I mean this is kind of based on jack the ripper (serial killer) and my teenage fantasies of falling for bad boy jungkook. I hope you’ll give it a go and tell me what you think !!! <3

Tw : cursing, killings, descriptions of death and psychopaths, masturbation , making out, smut.

WC : 11K

also a big massive thank you to @ggukkiereads for helping me gain the confidence to write and dedicate time to finishing this ! ik its been a while since we spoke but much love to u angel <3 may u always have the best !

Begrudgingly the students lag off the bus at 10pm, finally having reached their destination.

Tired and sore from their journey the teachers find no trouble in distributing bedrooms for everyone.

When your name is called out along with Tiffany you internally groan - great you think one of the most plastic girls in the school all to myself.

You grimace but make no argument as you could have gotten worse you suppose.

As you grab your belongings and ignore her protests that she doesn't want to room with a loser like you, a dark clad figure pushes past you, almost tripping you over.

Angrily you shout

"Watch where you're going you prick"!

Yet he doesn't so much look in your direction.

Under the dim moonlight you can faintly make out the low blunt of a cigarette in a tattoo clad hand - so it was the infamous Jungkook.

Honestly you didn't understand why all the girls fawned over him when he was just a rude and ignorant asshole. Sure, he had a pretty face but no good soul to match.

Calming yourself, as it was unlikely that you'd ever receive an apology from the school rebel you just head to your new room.

The school had organised a biology trip so that you could gather authentic evidence on the correlation of birds and wood growth in a certain designated area and honestly you were excited- not having enough expenses to get out of town when you were younger meant that this was a treat for you and paired with you being a biology major your inner geek was surfacing pretty quickly.

You move into your room and begin unpacking your things ignoring the chatter coming from your new roommates.

You set everything nicely, precisely -just to your liking. Maybe some would call you fussy, but you like to think of yourself as organised and classy.

You don’t have many thoughts that night as you lay down for bed, but you do hear the news playing in the background.

" a killing has not been sighted for a time breaking the pattern of the 1-week intervals in which they have been happening, but police still advise to remain on high alert at all times. "

You shudder as you think about it, a killer on the loose in the country and everyone powerless to stop him.

He fed of the insecurities of people, the fear of not being safe. He did a damn well good job at it as well.

You look outside and see the police on night duty setting up, the country while terrified also was reluctant to admit the threat and instead of protecting you properly they had merely sent police force units as glorified bodyguards to ' keep you safe '.

You sigh, as you climb under your covers those problems seem like a long way away from you as you drift off with an empty mind.

It was morning, the sun was shining brightly through the windows giving an orange glow to the room.

You were up before your roommates, had brushed your teeth and were already preparing for your project.

You had to do well, you were depending on a scholarship for university, your family could simply not afford it otherwise.

When your first signs of morning hunger begin to strike you venture outside your room in order to satiate yourself. You find that it’s still quiet only a few students up like yourself, you find a coffee machine and immediately begin to make one for yourself.

“While you're at it could you make one for me too".

a deep voice drawls out.

You almost jump out of your skin at the sound his voice breaking the silence you had been enjoying. Jeon Jungkook.

You scowl at him, choosing to ignore him carrying on making your own cup.

He whistles under his breath.

“wow, edgy or a bitch? I can’t decide".

He taunts you.

You roll your eyes at him and sigh in annoyance, his eyebrows raise at this.

“you’re clearly not a morning person".

He speaks.

You mutter under your breath.

" or maybe I’m just not a YOU person, not everyone lives to be nice to you. "

He lifts his hands up in a mock surrender.

“Okay, okay I get it it's a bad time for you jeez.... I suppose I'll have to make my own coffee".

He moves closer to you, totally invading your personal space, clearly, he had never heard of a personal bubble! You scowl and try to move away but he’s faster and is hovering over you before you know it. He looks down at you with those pretty dark eyes.

They’re so gorgeous.

Not that it matters to you because he is still an asshole, and he still ruined your morning.

“get out of my face Jeon Jungkook".

You say between clenched teeth.

You’re not some sort of pushover.

Yes, you're clever, as society classes a nerd but you're not one to let people walk all over you.

If he’s shocked, he doesn’t let on, just hums and lets you walk away, which you do, a little aggressively. You got back to your room and let out a sound of annoyance, the girls are still sleeping.

You sigh.

This was going to be a long trip.

After an uneventful morning, the wait was over and finally the teachers had called you to gather in the common area. Much to your dismay however there would be no actual data collecting until the police had secured the area, which meant that your whole day was pretty much wasted. The other students were chatting and gossiping and being idiots as per usual.

It’s not that you thought you were better than them, it's just that they were so mundane, so lifeless. They were just living on with no sense of direction. You suppose that's what you get for attending a school for rich kids though.

You could never fit in.

So, you never tried. People took pity on you every now and then offered you a smile. You smiled back but that was it. Your thoughts are running and to clear your head you decide to go outside for a little breather.

There isn’t much, just a few abandoned train tracks that seemingly lead into nowhere, a few broken fences and lots of grass. Not much time after this you head to bed.

Finally, the day had arrived, you could collect your samples.

You are so glad that it’s an individual project because you honestly cannot even imagine working with one of those air heads.

You shudder at the memory of having to work with Taehyung last semester for a chemistry practical.

You had to basically pull all the weight for your grade.

So, you get on working your way through your work and proving or disproving your hypothesis.

You’re pleased at the work that you completed. Not entirely satisfied but satisfied enough, for now.

You let out a stiff yawn, you need to stretch and need a little fresh air since you had spent the last few hours writing up your data and making graphs to compliment them.

You forgo your jacket since the weather isn’t so bad.

It’s nice.

When you go outside there are quite a few students already there, goofing around. There is also a pretty scenery, that in all honesty you had not appreciated until right now.

“Wow" you mutter under your breath.

Maybe I should try living outside my own head sometimes.

You spot some students surrounding a police officer and the curiosity gets the better of you and your soon wandering around the outskirts of their conversation.

Alas, it was merely a fruitless conversation. The police officer telling the other about his escapades and how they will be good in hands.

You lose yourself to your own thoughts again and look at the scenery. Until a little scuffle, breaks you out of your thoughts.

“What was that? There was a movement down there!! “

A boy called Josh calls out.

The police officer had also noticed it, then a sound of a gunshot sounds through the air.

The police officers curse and begin to get ready to scout the area. They want you all to go away, be safe inside but you’re all young adults- you want to see what’s going on.

Everyone gathers, watching the officers.

You scan the area; you spot the balcony that looks over the area just in front of the cabins.

Perfect you think that’s the perfect spot to see what’s going on.

So, you begin to climb up the steps to that room, when you get there, you can see everything.

You see a dead dog, a dead bird and the gun which had killed them laid out to where the officers were heading.

Fear grips your heart; your heartbeat is erratic. You think you see the shape of figure retreating into the distance but before you can look again, you feel the ground give way under you.

You let out a shriek, feeling yourself falling.

Is this truly how my life end you wonder I didn’t even get to complete my PhD?

Yet, instead of the hard fall that your body had been anticipating; your landing is softer and lets out a low grunt.

You're sure you're dead and have entered heaven.

Slowly you register a warm feeling under your legs and a secure one at your waist.

oh, this feels nice.

you think, eyes still closed until you hear some chaos in the distance.

what's happening?

Why is heaven so noisy? Are they partying because I’ve arrived? Was I actually an angel all this time am I coming home?

Ah you think this must be the angels- I knew all those days spent doing charity would help me.

You open your eyes and you’re met with bambi eyes staring back at you.

Slowly you begin to piece the rest of your angel together.

“Jeon Jungkook? “

You try and raise your voice to compliment your surprise, but it comes out in a more whisper.

“But this, Jungkook, you were an angel all this time? “you say.

His eyebrows knot together in confusion.

“What are you talking about strawberry?”

You gasp.

"Do we all get code names in heaven? You’re a pretty angel Jungkook. “

Then your eyes zero in on the scar on his cheek.

“Aren’t Angel’s supposed to be blemish free? Is that? Are you fallen? Wait.... for me? Are you my angel Jungkook? “

His eyes, which had previously shown confusion are now coloured with amusement.

“You talk a lot don’t you my little strawberry”.

You vaguely hear the sounds behind you before you begin to feel drowsy and fall limp the arms of your unexpected angel.

Jungkook was, of course no angel, your delirious ass was just doing and saying delirious things. You were going to be mortified when you woke up.

When you come to your room in a dark room, tucked into a warm bed. Your headaches aches as if someone is using a sledgehammer to hit it every second.

‘Agh’ you let out a pained groan.

What even happened? you wonder in your head.

You move quickly, getting out of bed ignoring your protesting limbs.  You almost reach the doors until a pair of arms trap you.

‘woah woah where do you think you're going?’

You let out a scream, completely startled. A hand comes to cover your mouth.

‘man, you really do have a set of lungs, don’t you? ‘

You stop struggling in his embrace to match his voice to a face. Its familiar.

‘Jeon Jungkook?’ you let a little unsure and panic still evident in your voice.

‘your one and only’

You frown.

‘mine?’

He smirks at you,

‘that's right yours strawberry’.

You shake your head.

‘are you smoking something? Are you high right now?’

He pouts a little then, it changes his look completely. He looks a little cute.

‘you don't remember? ‘ he cocks his head to the side and points to himself. ‘I'm your angel’.

You scoff.

‘Please in what world are YOU an angel? You're far from it’.

Then it all comes back to you.

Jungkook watches as the realisation begins to show on your face.

‘Oh my god I had a concussion, you cannot be serious right now ‘

He chuckles.

'The words still came out of your mouth' Jungkook counters, he leans closer to you, his face way to close for your liking.

You feel your face grow warm from his proximity, but you don't give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

You scoff and push him away.

‘You're insane’.

He accepts the distance you've placed between the two of you and he chooses to smirk at you from where he is standing.

‘And you're crazy for me’.

You let out an incredulous laugh, not believing him.

‘Oh, my lord, please shut up for the sake of my sanity’.

He chuckles at your flustered state and you scramble your brain to find a change of subject.

‘okay whatever now just excuse me because I need to go back to my room’.

You move to begin walking to the door, but his voice halts your movements.

‘This is your room now’.

You whip around to face him.

‘What?! Ha as if Jeon, why would they room us together- were supposed to separate for the opposite genders- which I totally get when you're involved’ you say disbelief painting your voice. You whisper the last part though.

He puts his hands into his pockets and shrugs.

‘Protection?’

You set him a hard stare.

‘Save your lame ass men superiority talks for someone else i am having a severe case of I'm not interested’.

Why the hell would you need Jungkook for protection, it reeks of patriarchy and you hate it.

He shrugs.

‘Listen princess I don't know why either really to be honest but I'm not complaining-’

You don't bother entertaining him for much longer.

This can't be true. You cannot be paired into a room with him. He cannot be your new roommate - heck now tiffany doesn't seem so bad. Flirting asshole, you mutter under your breath as you begin searching for your teacher.

You only learn a bitter truth, due to the collapsing of the room you had to be relocated into another room and the only person without a roommate was Jungkook. They ‘trusted’ you enough that you would be able to handle it and not to do anything you were not supposed to.

‘We trust you, y/n’ was what she had told you.

You spend your time cursing out both her and Jungkook as you gather your belongings to move into your new room.

You're so caught up in your own thoughts that you don't notice a foot that comes out to trip you.

You look up and see the faces of three stupid bitches.

Tiffany Jessica and Irene.

They seemed to consider themselves above everybody else, though you've no idea why. Aside from flawless looks they seemed to live pretty empty life in your eyes. They were living definitions of empty shells walking around.

You get up quietly from the ground, you'll gain nothing from engaging with them, maybe you'd lose a few brainless. You just want to go back and rest - your head is killing you.

But to your disappointment they begin to talk.

‘Well, well well, if it isn't the school's new slut moving into MY boyfriend's room’.

You have to let a little laugh at this. This one is seriously deluded. Jungkook didn't do relationships you knew that. Everybody knew that. They had hooked up about 3 months ago and even though he does his best to ignore her she still insists that he is her boyfriend. It's just pathetic and a bit sad you suppose. Her obvious attraction to him which he just does not reciprocate.

She becomes enraged at your actions.

‘listen here you little bitch you better not even think of starting anything with my man-’ she spits out at you.

You snap back then, unable to hold your tongue.

‘I am not a slut, and I will not go after your man- which fyi  he is not. He is a human and he doesn’t belong to you he never has’

She grows red at your words.

‘you little piece of shit-’

She raises her hand but just then a voice interrupts her and she halts her actions.

‘well if it isn't my new roomie, l’ll take that from you strawberry’ Jungkook says, too cheery for your liking, your still contemplating hitting Jessica.

Jessica begins speaking up, but he ignores her turning to you.

Your mouth almost drops open at his dismissal of Jessica but then again, she is annoying, and he cannot be immune to that.

‘Jungkoooook’ she whines when he doesn’t respond to her the first time.

He still doesn’t entertain her.

He moves to take your things from you, but she speaks again, latching onto his arm.

‘just leave her -cshe's just an annoying stuck-up bitch’.

He responds to this under his breath laughing.

‘reminds me of someone ’

She doesn't understand his comment.

‘huh?’ she says almost comically.

‘who baby?’ she pouts at him ‘my poor baby having to deal with such people, just leave with me and we can-’

‘no’ he sets her with a hard stare.

It's like she has forgotten that you're there, so you decide to use this to your advantage, letting Jungkook deal with them. You move to get your suitcase, but a hand stops yours. Its Jungkook.

‘I don’t think so strawberry - I'll be getting those for you’.

You turn to look at him scowl adorning your features.

‘I don’t need your help Jeon’.

He smirks at you.

‘no no - I insist’.

He dismisses Jessica with a wave of his hand and begins to walk away your suitcase in his hand, which prompts you to follow along.

‘What. Was. That. Jungkook?!’ you say when the door closes, you’re fuming because he had made it seem as though you were dating or doing things together which meant that they would keep bothering you, which is just something that you don’t want.

He turns around to face you.

‘oh, don’t get your panties in such a twist, I just needed to get the fuck away from her’.

He sounds angry and this is the Jungkook that you are more accustomed to. Not the flirty one you have been seeing. Hopefully he had given up on whatever he was trying to achieve with that. He was a rude asshole who was just to used to seeing things come out in his favour.

‘excuse me, you just fuelled her whack ass thoughts and next time don’t use me as your escape route’ you say matching his hostile tone.

‘oh, don’t be such a priss, it saved you as much as it saved me’.

An exasperated noise escapes your throat.

‘well maybe you should have kept it in your pants lover boy’.

He sets you with a hard stare.

‘oh, shut up - you don’t know me’ he grits out.

You cock your head to the side much like he had done to you earlier in the day.

‘hmmm I think I know you pretty well Jungkook, you're not as unreadable as you like to think, Jeon Jungkook the infamous bad boy who uses girls to fuel his ego and is used by girls to fuel their own ego and status quo among their own stupid--’

You do not get to finish you sentence however because you're harshly being pinned to the door. His grip on you is hard and it stings but you meet his gaze.

‘shut the fuck up y/n’ the tone of his voice is almost carnal, animal like.

You seriously had hit a nerve.

‘I go beyond your perceptions of me- you little miss goody two shoes’.

You spit back in his face.

‘I've yet to see you act more like a crazed rabbit Jungkook and to be honest I don’t plan on finding out the depths of your character either. I don’t fucking care about you’.

You push him aside and move to unpack your suitcase.

He mutters something under his breath that you can't hear, and he walks out slamming the door behind him.

‘well, that was fun’ you say and begin to take out your notes and books that you will need through the day.

When you wake up the next you feel like you’ve been hit by a ton of bricks. The painkillers had given you the illusion that you were okay. You look a mess, you're tired, you cannot believe that this happened.  You had been looking forward to this for so long, they had told you that another student would be collecting your data. Your new roommate. Jeon Jungkook. He was going to be collecting your data.

This is preposterous! He would probably sabotage you on purpose! This cannot happen, but they wouldn’t budge from their choice. You huff as you look out of the window, where you could be collecting your data along with the other students. Darn you and your curiosity.

They always did say didn’t they- that curiosity killed the cat.

Your walking around the room, pacing- that’s how bored you are. You had reorganised your things 3 times and colour coded all you notes, redrew your graphs, you had done everything that you thought would keep you busy but here you are sitting with nothing to do.  You look around the room see Jungkook's things laying on the ground.

You sigh into the empty room again and just lay down waiting for them to come back. You end up falling asleep.

You're stirred from your sleep, quite rudely by a book being thrown at the foot of your bed. You sit up, still groggy and look at Jungkook.

‘what the hell man’

He stares at you blankly.

‘There's your work priss’

You're not bothered by his hostile tone instead open the book and seeing what he had done, or you suppose looking at it what he had not done. The more you look at the work the more the frown on your face deepens.

‘what the hell is this Jungkook?’

He looks up at you annoyed.

‘the work? Thought you were meant to be a genius?’

You scowl at him.

‘this Jungkook? Is unacceptable a nursery kid could do way better than this !’

He rolls his eyes at you.

‘and? That’s what you're going to get priss so deal with it’.

You make an exasperated sigh.

‘you've used the wrong measurement and everything Jungkook’.

‘look - I don’t care. I didn’t want to do this for you anyway’.

‘like I wanted YOU to do it for me’.

You sigh,

You keep bumping into him everywhere, you know he is your roommate but he is always there at the cafeteria taking the last donut which you had been craving pushing in line, making unnecessary comments and he makes the room so messy!

It’s the same thing for the next few outings, Jungkook comes with the same half assed versions of the data you need.

You try, you really you try so hard to use the data sets he provided but its no use. They're absolutely useless, so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Your going to sneak out early in the morning, you have to sneak past the guards which as you’ve gathered won't be as hard as one may think because they are not good or much invested in their job anyway.

You prepare yourself and head to set out in the morning. You quietly get up so as not to disturb or wake Jungkook. If he sees you, you know that there will be trouble.

You throw on a hoodie and grab a notebook, a pen and your watch. You have to be back before anyone can notice that you're gone.  You steel yourself one last time, giving yourself a pep talk and sneak out. You hold your breath as you walk past the room of your supervisor and out the back door of the cabins.

This isn't so bad you think. Once you're out of sight of the guards and you think your safe, you let out a sigh of relief and do a little shimmy out of your happiness. You are so pleased and proud of yourself. What you didn’t know that behind you, watching your every move was a boy covered in tattoos with a cigarette in his hand watching you with an amused face.

Jungkook was, not as you thought asleep when you had snuck out. He was also outside, leaning on the side of the building a cigarette in his hand, he couldn’t sleep that night, it happened to him on most nights so he routinely wakes up to have a smoke. On this particular day there is not the usual eerie morning silence that he is used to, but a few grunts and hisses to accompany it. He furrows his brows.

Is that? He thinks y/n!?!?!?!?!?

No way he thinks what the hell is she up to?

Then he catches sight of your notebook and pen.

'Oh, what a nerd' he mutters under his breath. Then he smirks.

He can totally use this to his advantage.

He stubs his cigarette, pulls his hoodie over his head and follows you.

Your heart is still racing you honestly cannot believe that you. l/n f/n are doing this.

‘What a badass’ you say into the silence.

‘Badass? Sneaking out to do bloody work is your idea of badass?’ a voice speaks up behind you.

You shriek startled and are met with Jungkook.

Why is it always him?

‘what in the bloody tarnation's.... are you trying to kill me Jungkook?!’ you say putting your hand on your heart.

He grins pleased at the reaction he had elicited from you.

He cocks his head to the side.

‘what the hell are you doing here ?!’ you hiss at him.

‘could ask you the same thing strawberry’ he replies.

You look at him.

You were so sure that you had been quiet, how could he be here to ruin everything.

‘you do realise that I actually have name, and it's not strawberry’ you say to him.

He shrugs.

‘Yeah but you always smell like them’.

You scoff;

‘and you always reek of cigarettes.’

He frowns but then asks you again.

‘what are you doing here?’

You think of excuses,

‘I'm - I'm on a walk’ you say.

He lifts his eyebrow up.

‘a walk?’

You nod.

‘that's right for my daily exercise its been a pain to be stuck indoors’.

He snorts.

‘you're on a walk with your graph paper pad and pencil case?’

You curse inside your head.

‘yeah I am a nerd after all’ you say, hoping and praying that he’ll just let you go on your way.

He doesn’t

‘I don’t know, you look awfully suspicious to me, do tell why you're heading to the sight of our data collection points when the trail track is in the opposite direction?’ he says.

You rack your brains for an answer.

‘well, I like an adventure’ you say, standing straight.

‘oh, is that so?’ he says laughter infiltrating his tone.

‘yes’, you say meeting his eyes.

‘hmm’ he says ‘I don’t believe you’ he says.

‘do you wanna know what I think?’ he continues.

He takes one step closer to you.

‘I think that our resident miss goody two shoes is sneaking off when told specifically that she can't’ his gaze burns into yours

You feel yourself going red out of embarrassment.

‘I literally have no idea what you're talking about Jungkook' you say breathless.

He leans closer and you can feel his body heat, he continues to bore his eyes into your own and you almost fall into his gaze until you feel your book being snatched out of your hand.

‘HEY!’ you say reaching for it.

But he holds it higher than himself, opens it to the last written on page.

‘new data collection points’ he reads out ‘and oh would you look at that ! It has todays dates written on it’ he says looking down at you with a squint in his eyes.

You huff.

‘well obviously I had to do this because how on earth could I let your lame ass results and data reading be used for my final piece – I'm not looking to fail’ you say venom laced in every word.

He scowls at you.

‘there was nothing wrong with my results princess’ he grits out.

‘oh, please save it’ you snap back ‘you didn’t even use the same measurements – your hopeless’.

‘well, if I'm so fucking useless you should do my work for me’ he says.

You set him a level stare.

‘what?’

‘you heard me’ he says with a roll of his eyes.

‘and why in the hell would I do that? I don’t care if you fail Jungkook, heck I don’t care if you get kicked out’ you tell him.

He shakes his head.

‘well, I mean I could go back right now and tell Miss Taylor-’ he begins.

You narrow your eyes at him.

‘You wouldn’t dare’.

He holds a staring contest with you.

‘oh, wouldn’t I?’ he says.

You both hold each other's gazes before you give in.

You cannot believe the audacity of this asshole.

‘fine whatever asshole’ you say folding your arms and turning around.

He grins in victory and places your notebook back into your hands.

‘chop chop partner get to it’ he says.

You glare at him.

‘partners pull equal weight Jungkook ‘

He rolls his eyes.

‘I don’t really care – you just need to get a move on’.

You turn around no longer wanting to deal with his annoying ass.

You make it forward a few steps before you stop and turn around.

‘why are you following me?’  you ask him.

He rolls his eyes at your apparent dumbness.

‘well smartass, there is a killer on the loose if you didn’t know’.

You freeze up for a second,

Shit

You had almost forgotten. You don’t let him see that you're scared.

‘and? ‘ you say feigning composure.

‘what the hell are you going to do if he pops out of the woods anyway?’

He shrugs.

‘I dunno actually a lot more than you could do anyway’

You stare at him.

‘I could be a black belt in karate for all you know’.

He laughs.

‘okay princess whatever - I just need to make sure that you're not going to fuck this up’.

So, you turn going to the place you need to, to collect your data pieces.

With having to do Jungkook's work as well, it takes a lot longer to complete than you would have liked.

He is surprisingly bearable in the mornings that you both sneak off though. He doesn’t say much. Just watches you – pretends he isn't though.

You catch him once. Its been about 2 weeks since you started this godawful task, and Jungkook's notes and work were in dire need of help so its taking you time. This time however you meet his gaze before he is able to pull away.

You cock your head to the side.

‘what are you staring at?’ you say placing your hands on your hips.

He says something inaudible under his breath.

‘what was that?’

He snaps at you.

‘do you think you have tie to stand around making idle talk with me? The work ain’t going to do itself princess.’

You huff in annoyance.

How dare he! This was just plain wrong anyway I should not even be doing this, but you knew it was the only way. You couldn't risk getting caught and with Jungkook you wouldn't be surprised if he really did rat you out you to all the teachers. And if he did well, you wouldn’t be receiving a very good reference.

It was during an early morning that you hear Jungkook walk off into the distance. Probably to smoke, such a bad habit you tsk.

But you're also done for the day – so you begin to head back on your own.

You feel the grass brush against your feet as you walk back. You’re humming along to that song that was always on the radio, when you hear it. A little whimper - then a cry. You know that you shouldn’t go to look, you know that you're paying for your curiosity already and you don’t need another thing to happen, but you just cannot help yourself!

You follow the sound, going on a detour from the track.

You do consider yourself somewhat of a badass but a serial killer? Yeah, they kinda scare the shit out of you. You hold your breath and walk as quietly and slowly as you can. You hear the whimper again to your left but its deeper into the woods.

As you walk closer you see a pool of blood - your eyes widen, and your heartbeat becomes erratic.

‘what the fuck?’ you whisper into the silence.

You walk closer to the body of the animal and you can feel your knees grow a little weak you can see a white paper which has been tainted red with the blood of the animal that was killed.

You gasp, taking it up in your hands. Your hands also become stained with the redness.

It's in Morse code.

-.-- --- ..- / ... .... --- ..- .-.. -.. -. .----. - / -... . / .-- .- -. -.. . .-. .. -. --. / --- ..- - / .- .-.. --- -. .

(YOU SHOULDN'T BE WANDERING OUT ALONE)

You look at it for a while and rack your brains to be able to translate it but no such look. Your mind is busy running at 100miles per hour. As you try and clear your head and look at the note one more time, but a noise in the distance pulls you way from any semblance of concentration that you could have obtained.

You frantically look around trying to locate where the sound had come from. Your senses are all on a high right now. You shove the piece of paper into your pocket and begin to go back the way that you came. After the first few steps you begin running your head running wild with the idea of being found dead in ditch. Your nearly at the main path which you had strayed from. You make it onto the path, and you bend over catching your breath when two arms encircle you from behind.

You let out a scream.

A hand is placed over your mouth.

‘shut the fuck up y/n’.

You recognise THAT voice. Its Jeon Jungkook. Why is this motherfucker always trying to scare you? Your turn around and hit him on the chest,

‘what the actual hell Jeon, you gave me a bloody heat attack and a half’.

He doesn’t respond. He is looking at you, his eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes have a glint of anger. He is furious.

‘where the fuck did you go y/n?’ he says, he holds your wrist stopping you from hitting him again.

He holds it in the air holding your gaze.

‘I was.... walking back’ you didn't want him to know what you had found. He would probably tell you it was a bad idea to even translate it. Which it was, but what is life if not for taking risks?

You yank your hand from his grasp.

He looks at you an unreadable expression on his face.

“you’re a fucking liar “he says.

You scoff.

“oh please, what’s it to you anyway jungkook, you left me first “

He doesn’t say anything, but observes you, trying to look for signs of what you’re hiding.

He had found one too, a dead animal and a note written in Morse.

But he could read it and he knew he was in trouble

“Be careful, or your little girlfriend may be snatched from right under your arms “

He swore under his breath as he read it and immediately began to make his way back to you.

“strawberry?” he calls out but you’re not there.

You’re not there and he hates the feeling of dread that sits in his stomach.

He runs back the way you came, but he still finds no trace of you

“fucking hell where did she go?”

He almost gives up and is going to tell the police when you appear before him, out of breath and you look terrified.

He knows you’re lying, if you were where, you said you were, he would have seen you.

He narrows his eyes at you again.

“I left for two seconds and you ran off. Where the fuck did you go? “

He asks, he wants you tell him, needs you to, he’s overcome with this sense to protect you but you don’t trust him. He needs to change that.

He lets you believe that you have him fooled, that he believes your story and he begins to walk back to the cabins right before the call for breakfast is sounded. You follow after him breathing in a sigh of relief that he had believed you.

That night you find it difficult to sleep. You need to find out the meaning of the Morse code, but you don't have access to a book that will help you translate, meaning that you will have to ask around without looking too suspicious.

You decide that a police officer would do nicely, if you seem overly invested in their job, they would just give you the information.

You spot the officer who looks younger than most, you remember his name.

Park Jimin.

You approach him cautiously.

“Officer park?”

He turns around to face you, smiling softly.

Oh, he’s cute you think.

“yes miss?”

You smile at him warmly.

“nothing serious it’s just that I was wondering if you would like some company, it must be a little boring for you out here on your own “

You say to him and you’re glad you asked him because either way his face breaks out into a smile that has your heart fluttering.

“how very kind of you miss! And yes, a little company wouldn't hurt “, he grins at you.

As you strike up conversation, with the officer you fail to notice a figure dressed in black listening in on your conversation. Jungkook listens in as you try and get information out of officer. He knew it. You had also come across the same note, as he had. He wonders what yours said.

He leaves after a bit, leaving both of you oblivious to the fact that he was even there in the first place.

When you get back to your room, you see Jungkook sitting at the foot of his bed frown on his face.

You ignore him and write down the information you'd just got given by Officer Park. You felt a little bad manipulating him when he was so nice but you just had to know what it meant.

Jungkook speaks up.

“that was a nice conversation you were having with Officer Park “

He says,

You whip you’re head up to look at him and closing your notebook harshly.

“What? Were you eavesdropping on my conversation?”

He rolls his eyes

“Why would I be listening to the conservation of the school nerd with a cop? No, I just happened to hear in passing “

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

“That’s mighty rude of y-" you begin to retort before he cuts you off

“what’s a biology nerd like you need with Morse code?” He asks.

Your mind malfunctions for a moment until you bring yourself back together.

“A little extra knowledge hurts no one you know?” you say appearing nonchalant.

He narrows his eyes

“I know it”

You look at him

“you do?”

He nods,

“why need something translating?” he tries.

You think about it, but ultimately decided against showing him the note you found.

You have no clue what it says. You don’t want him understanding before you do.

You shake your head,

“No, I don’t “

You say, deciding enough is enough and you need to sleep now to be up in the morning.

The next morning you sleep in, meaning that you couldn’t do the work that was set out for you. You stretch and moan as you get out of bed when you sit up and open your eyes fully your locks onto the Bambi ones from across the room. You let out a shriek!

‘What the hell why were you watching me you creeper!’ you say pointing a finger at Jungkook.

He rolls his eyes at you.

‘oh, please don’t flatter yourself’.

‘why didn’t you wake me up? Its so late !’ you question him.

He looks at you and says words that you don’t think that you would hear.

‘I think that we should lay off for a bit strawberry’

You look at him in shock

‘but why!?’

He doesn’t really give you much of an answer in his usual Jungkook manner.

You sigh.

Over the next few weeks, you rarely bump into Jungkook, you see him sometimes in the cafeteria and you can always feel him just watching you it makes you grow warm when you notice his staring.

Jungkook is also going crazy. You drive him crazy.

You guess that you'll have to work at the same pace as everyone, truthfully you had actually caught up with your work that was missed a while ago, you were just doing extra readings to stay ahead. One step ahead of everyone. But you guess that that is going to be changed now.

It had been a while since you had been on your morning trips with jungkook and though you hate to admit it, you kind of missed it.

He wasn't as bad company as you thought he would be, he was oddly quiet which meant that without him talking as much, you really got to admire his beauty. And good lord was he handsome, you understand why people are attracted to him, when his mouth is closed, he’s fine. Basically, you became a little horny when you saw him, it had been ages since you had had sex even masturbated, since you now had room with him.

Jungkook has such strong sharp features which sometimes go all soft, if he pouts while he’s thinking or a bird catches his attention, his eyes will go big and doe like. It's cute. Everybody had two sides you suppose, yours was your horny side (lol what)

Okay maybe, more time to admire him was a bad thing, you did not need to have sexual fantasies with him, no, that was a big no no.

It's been a few weeks since Jungkook had asked you to lay low for a while and in that time, you had been asking around about the killer to the police. You tried your best not to seem suspicious about it though, if they caught on – well it wouldn’t exactly end well. So, you make slow progress, you did make progress though, however.

You could now understand the note and while it scared you, it also ignited something in you that you didn’t even know that you possessed inside of you. You wanted to outdo him, you want to find him, lead him into a trap or something like that anyway. You want to catch him.

Something in the back of your mind is telling you begging you to stop being so stupid, but you ignore and continue to daydream about catching this bastard.

But it can only cure your boredom for a while – you get bored and what better to do when you're bored than to read erotica novels?

You had packed this book with you – the secrets of the alluring painter in France. You had taken to reading at night time on some nights.

Like tonight.

You need a wind down, so you pull out your book, and it has such racy scenes that leave you clenching around nothing.

Your sexual imagination goes wild when you read the erotica in the book and the way they make it seem so fiery, you were no virgin - you knew what sex was like, but never has it been close to the way it is in the book.

You’ve allowed yourself to fall into this horrible habit, at night, when Jungkook is asleep to touch yourself, play with yourself, pretending it is you who is being touched by Kim Taehyung the painter with many secrets.

You feel yourself growing more frustrated with each passage you read, it becomes a little irritating and, you have to touch yourself or you'll go crazy, the man in the book was doing it so well, so hot.

Kim Taehyung, he was described as an utter beauty, soft black hair and soft eyes, a deep voice that just made the reader swoon, you close your eyes and reach your hands down to your shorts, they slip past the hem.

You wish you could moan, wish that you could be vocal, like you were in your bedroom when it was just you and your pillow, but there was one big problem and that was Jeon Jungkook.

Why did you have to room with him?

You lighten your breathing and listen for signs of him being awake, but he seems to be breathing really deep, he is asleep you assure yourself.

You turn the lamp off, at the side of your bed, setting the book on the bedside table.

You trail your hand down your stomach, much like Taehyung had done to the main character, he slowly lets his fingers flutter over the top of her shorts, and you do the same. You build the tension, like it's his beautiful hands working against you.

You pause and let your fingers slip past the hem of your panties, you trace over the fabric covering you - first over your mound, stroking sensually.

How had Taehyung done it?

Right yes, he had used his nails slightly and grazed over lightly, a slight pressure but nothing that hurt - it was just enough to make you squirm under your own touch.

You feel your own wetness, feel how obscene it is in the darkness of the night.

Jungkook is right there, and while it scares you, it also thrills you, you feel a new wave of arousal and adrenaline when you remember he is there.

Slowly and as quietly as possible you shuffle, moving to take your shorts off, it's a little loud but you think that you're okay, Jungkook is out like a log.  After a moment you continue to tease yourself.

Running your fingertips over your lips, pressing down on your hole and clenching, withholding the need to hiss.

You raise your hand further and your fingers land right at the centre of your pleasure.

Your clit. Oh, the beautiful bundle of nerves.

You cover your mouth with a hand to stifle the moan that you almost let out when you begin to rub small circles around the sensitive nub.

When you can’t get enough your panties are next to go, and when the cold air hits your wet centre you have to hold your breath, shaky.

You reach down and gather your slick slowly, spreading it all over your centre, making yourself drown in your own arousal, you use your middle and ring finger to slide up and down at a pace that leaves you edged and eager for more, you need to bring yourself to the very edge to get yourself the release that you’re after, you free hand travels up to your ever sensitive boobs, you play with them, brushing over the nipple, making them perk and then groping them while you rub at your clit.

A dirty thought crosses your mind, when you remember the boy who was asleep across from you.

What if, he was the one to touch, the one touching you, with those beautiful hands of his, those big hands.

You stifle another moan, as you think about him, hovering over you, giving it to you just right. You had heard that Jungkook could actually make a girl cum while having sex, that made you a little interested. It’s just he always opens his mouth and is an ass and ruins everything. But right now, in your imagination, only his looks and reputation matter, you twist and turn his character to be someone that you can gain pleasure from.

You can the pleasure increase and you begin to fasten your speed until you feel the signs of your orgasm and then you pull away. Edging yourself.

Your breathing is a little heavy and your work on controlling it, both your hands go to fondle your breasts and you unconsciously lift your hips, humping the air, you lean down again and enter three fingers easily into your own heat.

The squelching sound heard is deafening in the silent room, your cheeks burn red and you pull out slowly, so that was a no no, you would have to focus on your clit for you orgasm. Which was fine because you were so sensitive from playing with yourself, you know that it would only take a few more strokes to get there.

You press the fingers that were just inside of you, against your sensitive bud and you rub in slowly circles and then fastening your place and then slowing once more.

Jungkook comes into your mind again, ugh, now his lips, his pretty pink lips and the way he licks them, and the way they glisten under the sun. What if they were attached to your clit, if he was using his face to give you pleasure, like Taehyung had done to the main character of the novel, God it was so filthy.

Its driving you insane and you love it, the frustration will only make your release all the more powerful.

After a while you feel the fire blooming in your bottom of your stomach, and you quicken your pace to the point where you feel light and the waves of pleasure rack over your whole body.

You press your hand to your mouth again to conceal the gasps that are escaping you, you sigh and fall back onto your pillow feeling so much better and lighter.

Gosh did that feel good. You were aware that in your mind alarms were going off in your mind. You had thought of Jungkook while masturbating. It was a line you have no idea why you crossed. How would you look him in the eye now?

After a while, you pull up your panties and shorts and you promise yourself a shower in the morning.

What you didn't know was that the raven-haired boy of your fantasies was in fact awake and now painfully hard as he listened to your filthy little moans and gasps, he grabs his own member in his pants, strokes slowly. He spreads the pre-cum over his member before setting the fast pace that he liked, his breaths through his nose – to conceal the way his breathing has become strained. His hair becomes damp from sweat and it sticks to his forehead. He came much faster that he would care to admit the thought of you right there yet unreachable the fact that you were so NAUGHTY under all that good girl.

Turning him on, making him needy.

He breathes heavy, thinking of you under him as he squirts out cum into his pants, Jungkook too showers in the morning after you.

After this Jungkook stays up at night, listening to you, seeing if you would do it again, you do and, on those nights, Jungkook cums at the same time as you. He feels a little pathetic, he knows that he can fuck a lot of girls in the class right, but it wasn't you, God he wants it to be you writhing underneath him.

It’s the next morning and you're getting ready for your shower.

You're gathering your clothes and shampoo and creams into a little bundle and are about to open the door to the shower, when it is opened for you. The song that you were softly humming gets stuck in your throat when you register that the door was opened by Jungkook.

A very naked Jungkook.

Your face grows red, and your eyes wander over his gorgeous body, the tattoos that trail up his arm and a few on his waist, God they looked amazing.

Your ogling comes to a stop when he clears his throat. Oh, shit you think - I was staring. You quickly look up and your eyes meet Jungkook's.

He is smirking at you and as soon as you meet his gaze, he lets his own wander over body – taken in the skin that was exposed in your pyjama shorts and a t-shirt that had been small for you since you turned 13 years old.

He looks up and down your body brazenly before meeting your eyes. He licks his lips, and you zero in on it. God it was so annoying that he was this hot.

How could this be happening now? When you had spent a while avoiding him? And him you? Why did this happen after you were thinking of him last night? Oh god you grow red again and you think what if he had heard you? God, that would be embarrassing. You look at his lips again, avoiding his gaze again but maybe his eyes would have been a better option because as soon as you look at his lips, the same filthy thoughts come back to you - you shift uncomfortably trying to calm yourself. In that time, you don't notice but Jungkook has come closer to you.

You register his closeness when a water droplet from his hair falls onto your cheek. You move away slightly.

You don’t realise it but in your extended silence of checking each other out the both of you have moved closer to each other. There is no longer what people would call a healthy distance between the two of you anymore. He looks down at you and licks his lips again. His hair is wet and the way he runs his hand through it – he looks so good like this. Your dirty thoughts run wild again. Its only when another water droplet from his hair falls onto your cheek that you finally snap out of it. You move a step back.

“You look a little hot strawberry is anything the matter?” He asks you, a teasing lilt on his voice.

It’s way too early for this, you cannot be dealing with this right now, not when your mind has gone on a memory flashback to last night and he was right here in front you, so very naked.

Still, you feign your ever composed self.

“I’m just fine” you say through gritted teeth.

“I need to shower and your kind of standing in my way” you tell him.

He chuckles, a deep chuckle, gosh how are you this horny in the morning? Stop it y/n you think.

“I don't think you really mind though do you strawberry, you seem to have a very different secretive side” he says, cocking his head to the side.

You blush, shit had he heard you?

“I have no idea what you're talking about Jungkook” you say to him “I need to shower though”.

You move to get away from his hearted stare but just before you enter the washroom, a hand grabs onto your wrist and pulls you back.

Jungkook looks at you, a deep and confusing stare.

“Be careful, it’s quite wet in there” he says and then his tongue pokes into the side of his cheek. Then suddenly, he lets you go and walks off to his side of the room, your left in shock at his words and quickly scurry to get into the bedroom before more heated tension breaks through.

You shake your head of all thoughts and quickly go into the shower, what you don’t realise is that you accidently drop something, the note with the raven-haired boy who you had left in the bedroom.

Its later on during this day that Jungkook approaches you.

'Hey strawberry’ he says to you.

You raise your eyebrows at him, what’s with his sudden kindness.

‘hey’ you reply voice dipped in surprised.

‘Oh, shut up, I just came to talk to you’.

You look at him.

‘I didn’t say anything but okay…. talk then’ you gesture your hands between your two bodies.

He lets out an exasperated gasp.

‘The note – did you find one?’ he asks. You still in the next sip of coffee that you were going to take. You feel yourself grow cold. How did he find out?

He looks at you.

‘So, you did’.

‘I didn’t say that’ you say tone slightly higher than normal – you were a terrible liar.

He laughs at you

‘Hmm is that so?’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about Jungkook’.

He looks at you, more serious this time.

“Listen y/n there's no point playing dumb, I found your stupid note anyway”.

You watch mortified as he pulls out the note that you had thought was in your pocket. Well shit then.

“I- I have never seen that before in my life Jungkook” you can't let him know; he would ruin everything - you convince yourself.

He looks at you, he’s getting annoyed that you're lying to him. He pokes his tongue against his cheek again.

“I suggest you stop lying”.

You scoff.

“Why would I ever need to lie to you your nobody to me Jungkook”.

Something akin to hurt flashes across his face for a few seconds before he slams his hands on the table.

“I don’t think you know what you're even getting into strawberry”.

You gather your belongings getting up, you need to get away from him.

“And I don't think you know what the fuck you're talking about Jungkook”.

You walk off leaving him there, but he follows after you,

“Listen I found one too, you don't need to be miss hero or anything”.

You carry on walking, not bothering to give him an answer, he would want to tell the teachers and everyone, they would cancel the trip and then how would you finish gathering your evidence? No, he was insane.

“I don’t know what you're talking about”.

‘you think your so fucking slick, don’t you? Asking around and acting unsuspicious but your wrong I could sense your stupid plan from a mile away’ he says to you, pulling you on your arm effectively stopping you so you can't walk away from him anymore. You struggle out of his hold.

‘and so, what? So, what if you know? What the hell are you going to do Jungkook? Tell on me? Are you going to threaten to tell the teachers because you know what? I’ve been thinking about it and I think they would much rather take my word for yours and all this work I’ve been doing for you – I could easily go right now and show the teachers and say that you forced me to do it!! ’

He looks at you angrily, looks like he is going to swear or curse you out but then his face relaxes.

‘you say that baby, but the truth is I have money and you don’t if I want to manipulate something I can because I have the means and power to do so, my dad's made himself something while yours totted away in the fucking garbage can’.

You feel the anger come over you and he smirks at you.

‘real fucking classy Jeon, yeah insult my parents – like it's their fault they were born into a world where people are born with silver spoons on their mouth, and at least my parents love me Jungkook’

His eyes flash with hurt

‘how do you now my parents don't love me you little bitch?’

You laugh an empty laugh at his face.

‘just look at you – you’re the very definition of boohoo my parents don't love me so I'm going to kick up a mess, so they notice me for once’.

He groans in frustration at your words then.

Somehow amidst your confrontation with Jungkook you had managed to reach your room, why are you here? Why did your feet have to leave you here?

You walk into the room and as soon as he gets in, Jungkook grabs you by the wrist and pins you against the door, your books and pencils fly across the room and while your mortified - he doesn't even bat an eyelid.

Your breathing is both heavy as you look each other in the eyes, waiting for the other to say something.

You struggle against his hold, uselessly, curse him for doing his workout routine every morning.

“You found the fucking note y/n when you went missing in the woods that day, the note that’s in Morse code, the note that you spent a week trying to decode, don't act fucking dumb” he grits out.

You still try and keep up your act,

“I have no clue in the world what you're talking Jeon, I think you're going fucking insane” you seethe out

He growls, yes, he growls.

“Your seriously fucking pissing me off now, I know you did, I know you found it”.

“Fuck off, Jungkook does it look like I care if I am fucking pissing you off”.

He looks into your eyes again and whispers something like “fucking priss” before he is connecting your lips in a kiss, a kiss that is full of ego, passion and heat. You can feel in searing through your body so fiery, setting your nerves alight.

He is relentless in his pace. His mouth against yours and God indeed Jungkook is good kisser. Before you knees grow weak you move your hands to tangle in his hair and you pull at the end causing him groan against his lips, when he does you swipe your tongue into his mouth getting a taste. You pull harder, and he groans again. It was a sound that you know you would like to hear again.

His hands move from the door and one tangles in your hair while the other presses harshly on your waist. You gasp at the pleasure and at this he takes over, he fights your own tongue for dominance and once he wins, he is rough, he wants all his saliva in your mouth, wants his taste on you, wants you to feel him in every way.

When he knows that your just as enthralled by his kisses he pulls back to taunt you - whispering the words against you bruised lips.

“You act like such a fucking little priss don't you? Act like your better than me? Lying to me? Fuck you drive me insane”.

He attacks your neck now, leaving open mouthed kisses along your ear and neck. He nibbles lightly at a few areas and when he gets to just the right place - where your breath hitches and you move your thighs together he bites down harshly without warning and you try you best to suppress your moans. Not wanting to give him any satisfaction.

“I am better than you” you say to him breathlessly, “I don’t just act like it, I am”.

He bites harder at that and you wince - Jungkook is painting you skin wine and purple and your letting him and it feels so goddamn good. He pulls you back by the hair to look at him,

“You don't look much better than me when you are bending at my will, when you're looking so fucked out and I’ve done is fucking kiss you”.

Your answer is swallowed by a moan that you let out as he takes you breasts into his big hands, and squeezes hard, you pull him up from your neck and kiss him again, his lips, your lips bruising and fighting against one another.

He trails his hand down further and dances around the hem of your pants for a while, and you place your own over his, just as your about to lead him further down a knock is heard at your door.

You both freeze

“y/n?” A voice calls out.

You calm yourself before answering, still a little shaky.

“Yes?”

“Our guest speaker has arrived, I just thought you might like to ask him a few questions before he gives his talk”.

Jungkook swears under his breath, raking a hand through his hair.

“You fucking nerd”.

He pulls you back by your pony tail and the back of your head lands on his shoulder, he tilts you slightly, so he has better access to kiss and leave more marks against your skin.

“Ah- I thank you, I’ll come in an ah- while” you say, and you hear the footsteps walk off, Jungkook spins you around and he goes to kiss you again, but you pull away.

“No, just, stop I have to go and talk”.

He looks at you “you fucking nerd” he kisses you once more, like he can't get enough of your mouth.

You pull away again.

uh what in the fuck just happened you think.

This was not meant to happen.

“Look Jungkook, I did, that is my note and I- I’ll, we can talk just not now, okay? I-I have to go. This is important"

He doesn't say anything, just watches as you fix your appearance in the mirror, an appearance he had ruined, and he smirks a little in triumph. He watches as you gather your books that had been thrown onto the floor and he watches as your ass is on display for him and God, he wishes he could grab a handful, but he doesn’t. He just watches.

You walk out the room, without so much as looking at him again and he feels oddly rejected.

He knows that you had felt good, he had heard you groan against his mouth, grind against his clothed member but he hadn't ever been walked out on before. He's not sure what exactly he is feeling. Its not a good feeling - that he was walked out on and for some old ass lecturer too.

He watches the door close, and he sits and waits for you to finish being a nerd. But truthfully it is a little hot to him that you’re so independent, you do things for yourself, your confidence and your wit, it makes you fun, you piss him off, but your company is nicer than the ones that he is used to.

He sighs what the fuck is he getting himself into.

You take a breath as you exit the room,

What in the fuck just happened? you think.

Well, when you promised Jungkook that you would talk to him you hadn't been in your right mind.  Why did you agree to that like fuck? You have no idea what to even say. How do you even start that conversation like...?

"Hey, was just wondering if you would like to you know? Go on a hunt for a serial killer with me?"

Gosh this was so stupid and the kiss, gosh your face heats up as you remember the way he had kissed you - oh so sweet and so naughty!

Gosh you were in bad, as an adult you decide to deal with the problem logically, you'll just ignore him. That will work, Jungkook had a small attention span anyway. You're sure he would forget. You really hope he does.

[moonlitceleste]

marinette dupain-cheng’s guide to picking up cute guys

A/N: Chez Vous is real in the DC universe; it’s described as a restaurant but I decided to use it as the name of the café because I didn’t want to come up with one myself. It translates to “at your house,” which basically implies “make yourself at home.”

thanks to @ramos123 for being my beta reader! <3

ao3

“Bet.”

Marinette slapped a crisp 20-dollar bill onto the wooden table with enough force to slosh around the brown liquid in the cup sitting before Alya’s smirking face.

Chez Vous was the name of the café they had been sitting in for the past fifteen minutes. The place had a nice ambience, the quiet chatter of customers and aromatic smells combining to make what was an unusually cozy atmosphere considering the location.

Gotham wasn’t exactly known for being hospitable, but she supposed the fact that it was clearly fashioned after Parisian cafés contributed to the homey feel. It vaguely reminded her of her parents’ bakery as well, so it certainly lived up to its name.

Perhaps it was this sense of familiarity that had her and Alya reminiscing on how far they’d come. It hadn’t been that long since lycée or université—the two were only 22 and 23, respectively—but recalling the good times they’d shared was always fun to do.

Of course, their friendship had momentary blips (ahem, Lila), but the two had managed to sort out their problems eventually. Now that Alya had become more attuned to Marinette’s boundaries and there were no pressing superhero secrets to keep, they knew how to both ground and challenge each other in positive ways. Which was exactly what had caused Marinette to get herself into this situation.

While chattering about their lycée days, Alya poked fun at her once again for what had transpired on the day of the Animan akuma. How could she ever forget that while secretly masquerading as a superhero and locking her best friends in an empty gorilla habitat together, she had somehow helped them end up in a relationship? And now the two were engaged.

This topic somehow lead to Adrien and the stupid puns he spewed both in superhero and civilian form. Alya was insistent that Marinette was charmed by them at some point, to which she replied, No way! They were horrible. Even I could do better.

It was with twinkling eyes that her best friend asked “Bet?” and well, Marinette was never one to back down from a challenge. So after pulling out some spare cash from her purse and setting it down in front of Alya, she raised a brow.

A wicked smirk grew on her best friend’s face, and any lesser person would have faltered, but Marinette was prepared for anything that could possibly be thrown at her.

“Fine. If you’re so confident, I dare you to use a pick-up line on… him.”

As if on cue, the bell at the top of the glass-paneled wooden door jingled, and Marinette followed Alya’s pointed finger right on time to see a very attractive man walk through.

He had a confident stride, but not an arrogant one—his aura was one of someone who was assured and knew exactly what they were capable of.

Despite his seemingly laid-back disposition, she didn’t fail to notice how his eyes darted around the room cautiously, the same habit she had gotten used to doing after she had been given the Ladybug Miraculous. Then again, this was Gotham, so being on constant guard was only natural.

One thumb was hooked in the pocket of his jeans while the other moved up to ruffle his hair, and wow did he have nice hair.

It was perfectly coiffed, and if she didn’t have experience with hairstyling due to her career she would’ve thought it was as effortless as it looked. Most models would kill for the natural luster his locks seemed to have, and even from a distance she could tell that anyone who decided to run their fingers through his hair would be met with softness.

And she didn’t even want to get started on his face. From his glowing skin to his strong jaw and pretty eyes, she refused to believe someone so attractive could be real. It was unfair, really.

“...inette? Marinette? You good there, girl?”

A snap in front of her face broke Marinette out of her stupor, and she offered an instinctual yelp in response.

“What?”

Alya’s eyes twinkled knowingly, and Marinette shifted anxiously in her seat.

“You sure you weren’t checking him out?”

“Alya!”

Said girl let out a mischievous cackle at her hissed response.

“Now get over there!” she said, waving her hands around in a shooing motion.

Marinette glanced over to the line, where the man was no doubt giving the barista his order.

From what she could tell he was just about done, and she watched as he shuffled through his wallet to hand the barista a bill. But rather than proceed normally as most client-worker interactions would, his payment was met with wide eyes and flailing hands.

Marinette was much too far to discern what was being said, but from context clues she could deduct that he had just handed the barista quite a sizable amount. She had already guessed he was well-off from simply observing the quality of his clothes, but this was near confirmation.

It wasn’t as if status or wealth mattered much to her, but she did have a tendency to be wary of higher-class people due to past experiences with them. Being around them really wasn’t as pleasant as it seemed.

Her musing was interrupted when the man suddenly moved, relocating to the waiting line. There was her chance.

Marinette pushed herself out of her seat, steeling herself and lifting her chin high. This was no biggie. All she had to do was somehow convince this gorgeous man to give her his number by making a crappy pick-up line and a pun on the spot. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t done before, but this felt different, probably because it was a total stranger she was about to attempt it on.

She felt Alya’s gaze trailing after her with each step, and Marinette reminded herself that she absolutely had to succeed or she would never hear the end of it.

The closer she got, however, the more her confidence died. Apparently she had made a major miscalculation while gauging her probability of success, because she hadn’t accounted for the brain spasm she was currently having. Why, oh why did he have to be so cute?

Marinette had the sinking feeling that she was about to majorly embarrass herself, but she was determined to win. Screw embarrassment—she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. All the trouble she had gotten into with Alix and Kim as kids had prepared her for this very moment. Nothing mattered besides victory.

So she sauntered up confidently, stopping right in front of her target.

“Hey, you must be Batman’s sidekick.”

“What?”

The man’s head snapped towards her, and Marinette didn’t fail to notice the subtle defensive stance he took. Years of hero experience had made her more perceptive towards these things—it was part of the job, after all. She filed the information away in the back of her mind, making a mental note to dissect all that later. Her priority was winning the bet—and oh, right, she still had to finish that pick-up line.

“...because you’re Robin my heart.”

The quip was accompanied by an uncharacteristically roguish smile, à la Chat Noir. She’d give herself a solid 10/10 points on delivery.

Her target seemed to agree with the verdict, because after a split second of shocked silence, he burst into full-bodied laughter.

The instantaneous shift in demeanor nearly caught her off-guard, but she was too occupied by the bright smile on his face and his melodic chuckle to notice. It was light and carefree, and she couldn’t help but crack a small smile as a result.

The only problem was that the laughter didn’t end, though, and she felt her face heat up more as the seconds ticked by.

Oh, Kwami.

Marinette buried her face into her hands with a soft groan, wishing the ground could just open up and swallow her whole.

She knew it wasn’t the greatest pick-up line ever, but she didn’t think her attempt warranted that much amusement.

The laugher ceased abruptly, and she peeked through her fingers in time to see the man quickly sober up.

“Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you!”

A pause.

“Okay, not exactly. I just—wow, that was a great pick-up line.”

She slowly lowered her hands, though she kept her head down to peer at him through her lashes.

“Did it work?”

He chuckled and offered her a bright smile that made her blush like a high schooler with a massive crush.

“Yeah, you can tell your friend over there that you won your bet.”

If it was even possible, she turned redder.

“What? How…”

At the mention of Alya, Marinette sent a quick glance to their café table only to find that she was doing absolutely nothing to hide her rapt attention. She quickly caught on to the fact that they were looking her way and sent a very obvious thumbs-up and wink.

Oh, I am so going to kill her later!

But Marinette’s momentary vexation made way for embarrassment as the gravity of the situation hit her.

“I guess I wasn’t exactly subtle, huh?”

“Yeah,” the handsome stranger shrugged. “You probably could have been more discreet. But I liked it.”

“Okay, that’s the second time you’ve said that, but I have a hard time believing you. You can’t possibly tell me that you actually enjoy puns.”

“So I’m guessing I shouldn’t tell you that meeting you was a fortuitous aster?”

“Aster? As in the opposite of disaster?” she wrinkled her nose.

“You got it!”

Marinette rolled her eyes in exasperation, though the upwards tug at the corner of her lips betrayed her true feelings.

“Careful there, or you’ll be the one Robin my heart.”

She’d never admit to it, but she flushed a tiny bit before straightening up in realization. Hey, she was supposed to be the one doing the wooing here!

But before she could open her mouth to respond, her companion beat her to it.

“Since you’re stealing something so dear to me, I think it’s only fair that I get my thief’s name in exchange.”

He was clever, she had to admit.

“Marinette,” she proffered.

“Dick.”

She blinked in surprise at the seemingly random obscenity before it clicked.

“Oh, that’s your name!”

The words tumbled forward, and once she realized what she had said, Marinette tried to frantically backpedal. Her spilled apologies didn’t seem to be necessary, though, because that mesmerizing laugh came back.

“No, it’s fine, I get that a lot,” he breathed between chuckles.

She brightened immediately, glad she hadn’t offended him or embarrassed herself too much.

“Well, since I’m already taking something from you, may I steal your number as well?”

“Only if I can do the same.”

Her inquiry was met with a grin, and the two exchanged phones to type in their respective numbers. Marinette’s found its way back into her hand shortly after, and moments after she pocketed it the call of “medium espresso and beignets!” broke the quiet ambience.

“Well, that’s my order,” Dick said, words weighted by a silent apology. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a few things I need to take care of. Maybe we can meet up later this week?”

The end of his sentence lilted up in hope, and Marinette found her chest warming with affection.

“I’d like that.”

She bid him goodbye with a smile and a wave and quickly tacked on an “I’ll text you later!” in afterthought.

She’d forever deny squealing giddily as she unceremoniously dragged Alya out from her seat and through the café doors, but the sound didn’t escape Dick’s attention—or his enhanced hearing, courtesy of Bat-Tech.

As he watched her leave with Alya, a smile slowly spread across his face at the thought of seeing her again.

Yeah, he sighed to himself. She’s definitely Robin my heart.

-

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