#I really hope he will come back but as a new guy

[shotmrmiller]

(Unnamed for now, 4.8k words of nothing but self indulgence because ex bf simon is king. just porn without plot, the usual filth. also i wrote myself into a hole with the smut but whatever.)

If your friends knew that you'd gone to great lengths to look presentable— less cave-dweller, more human— hoping to get lucky tonight only to end up waving off anyone of interest because you're too busy sulking about a relationship you willingly broke off, they'd kick you from the group chat.

(Or never let you live it down.)

But here you are, perched on a barstool, its cracked leather slightly sticky beneath your legs, the cocktail you'd ordered a while ago sitting mostly untouched on an even stickier bar top. Lamenting. Moping all over a guy who hasn't bothered to return a single phone call since you left him the voicemail. And it hadn't been his fault, really. He'd been upfront with you from the get-go; he's a busy man with a job you don't want to know about and are safer not knowing about.

You'd noticed the specific wording he'd used. Not better off but safer off, its implications perilous. The hardened look he'd given you when you'd pressed him on it, hoping for a slip of the truth, had been the first and only warning you'd needed.

Get off his case, understood.

You clench your teeth, irritation nipping at your nerves. You'd like to think that you've mourned this ex-relationship plenty and feeling an acute, smoldering ache again over a whisper of a memory (and not even a fond one at that)—

Time to douse these flames.

Waving the bartender down, you push away the watered-down drink and gesture for a shot. She eyes you warily, hesitating for a moment before sliding an empty glass over and reaching for some top-shelf bottle your bank account already feels the bite of. The fiery burn that courses down your throat resembles the one in your chest.

The alcohol swiftly does its job, offering a sense of relief, and you're grateful for it, even if fleeting. The room starts to blur a bit, the strobing lights overhead bleeding together like a watercolor painting left out in the rain, and you let yourself sink into the moment, the gentle ebb of intoxication pooling heat in your cheeks, warmth seeping into your limbs.

Things don't look so bad now; the world has taken a dreamlike quality to it, with softened edges and vibrant colors. With the liquid courage dulling the sharpness of your previous thoughts and easing the tension in your shoulders, you reckon that now you can start looking for your prey of the evening. It's why you even bothered to slink out of your comfort zone in the first place.

Mission directive: Get laid. Or plan B: go home with a new number saved in your contacts.

You rest your chin on your palm, eyes lazily scanning around the room, taking in the hazy but lively atmosphere. The dance floor is a whirl of energy, couples moving to the rhythm of the music, a group of friends huddling in a corner, hands gesturing animatedly as they chat each other up, and at the front—

If you swiveled away in your chair any faster, the courage you'd knocked back 10 minutes ago would come back up, spilling onto the bar top the barkeep gave up trying to keep clean. There have been numerous instances where your mind plays tricks on you, teasing you with glimpses of big and blonde in your peripheral while out running errands, the miserable lump in your throat only dislodging once you've made your grand escape.

(It's not running away; It's a tactical retreat. You'll face the music when it's less deafening.)

And in keeping with tradition, you settle your tab and scurry off to the bathroom, clutching your bag like a lifeline. A familiar shadow just walked in through the front door, once again haunting you. No matter how many times you whisper reassurances under your breath, dismissing it as a cruel joke your mind loves to play, the semblance of him never fails to arouse a bit of panic in you.

The trip to the bathroom feels like you're trekking across the country, weaving in and out and around crowds of people, dodging flailing limbs like an extreme sport. The inside is relatively small and cramped; three stalls for the entire bar. It's blessedly empty, so you beeline to the sink, hoping for a splash of cold water to settle your nerves.

The water is startlingly cold, or maybe it feels colder because you're flustered, and you're mid air-drying your hands when you hear it: that unforgettable gait, heavy and solid, like a tank rolling over rugged terrain. It's something that you can still hear echo in the small confines of your flat when the world is quiet. The mirror in front reflects your tense face, its edges cloudy with time and poor-quality cleaning solutions.

Get a grip, you're losing it.

Until the door swings wide, hinges screeching as it gives way with no resistance, and you realize that you're not losing it. But you just might.

"'Ello, poppet."

Incredulity forces a chuckle out of you because it's either you laugh or you cry.

"Nice," he eyes the cracked tile beneath your feet, "choice for a night out. Beer's more piss than ale, though." The door closes behind him.

The mockery in his voice is wildly unwarranted, especially for a man you haven't heard from for a better part of the year, and you finally gather your wits to bite back indignantly.

"What? It's not your cuppa? I always assumed you ratted out in seedy holes like this." The bruise-tight grip you've got around your bag makes your fingers ache. "I'll be sure to pick a more refined place for you next time."

He wastes no time closing the gap between you two, your three steps back negated by his single one with laughable ease, and the space around you seems to shrink, his presence swallowing it whole. You'd forgotten just how large a man he was— is.

A different beast altogether.

"No need. We won't be comin' back 'ere again." Your brows quirked at that. He's gone and learned French, apparently. Oui. You try to keep your personal bubble intact by taking another step back only to come in contact with a stall door, its chilly surface forcing your spine rigid. Cornered, caught in the crosshairs of the hunter's gaze, and the intensity of it makes you feel vulnerable, bare, as if you're staring up the barrel of a loaded gun.

"Easy, lovie, no need to look at me like tha', 'm jus' 'ere to talk," he says with a tone that's tinged with condescension, and his giant mitts are up and palms facing you like he's dealing with a skittish animal. There's a thought there, buried deep, that you refuse to acknowledge.

"Talk?" The question bursts out before you can stop it, followed by a sardonic laugh that feels unexpectedly cathartic as it leaves your mouth. Talk now, when you not only kept your line of communication open but also actively tried reaching out for weeks? Weeks spent waiting for a response, foolishly hoping he'd give a damn enough to at least put up a fight for you and what you had?

He tilts his head slightly, eyes unreadable. "Better late than never," he remarks, but that's the problem, isn't it? You were forced to come to terms with never, whether you liked it or not. And you had not liked it, but it had been necessary. To know there was a part of his life you weren't welcome to, regardless of reason, was something that shadowed your interactions. The realization that you were kept at arm's length due to the duality of his life was too bitter a pill to swallow.

It'd been a painful process making peace with the fact that maybe things just hadn't been meant to be. C'est la vie and all that tripe. But now, here he stands before you, having materialized out of thin air, a bloody intrusion upon the fragile peace you've built for yourself— it feels like a mockery of the emotional distress you've had to endure.

"Better late than—? You honestly fucking think you can just," you stumble over yourself in disbelief, "just corner me in a tiny bathroom of a dingy bar to talk?"

Simon raises one bulky shoulder, unconcerned. "You chose the place."

His piss poor attempt at a joke is like a slap in the face. "Right. Goodbye, Simon." You step around him briskly, your arm brushing against his. Just as your fingers graze the cold metal of the door handle, his encircle your wrist and gently pull you away. The span of his palm could easily engulf the entirety of your hand, and you can't help but wonder if you're as delicate and fragile as you feel in his grasp.

"Let me try that again," he murmurs tentatively, and you curse your good nature— the one that's always been too quick to soften even when you know better. You know just how clumsy he is with words, how his tongue ties itself in knots when emotions creep into the conversation. Simon gives your wrist a tender squeeze. "Ya can leave whenever you want."

Damn it. Damn it. Fine. This confrontation has been a long time coming anyway. "Then try again and make it fast," you snap, words short and clipped. "How we haven't been kicked out of here yet is a bloody wonder."

He steps away from you and leans his hips against the sink, arms crossed over his chest. Here Simon stands, no longer a hazy apparition in the corner of your eye but fully here. Real. Uncomfortable so. You shift your weight from one foot to the other.

"Didn't mean to disappear on ya," his tone carries a note of something resembling regret. "Work took me across the world, couldn't reach out t'you even if I wanted to." And there it is, the crux of the problem. His job. Always his job. The one part of his life you've never been allowed to see, what had been the ever-constant shadow hanging over your relationship. What tore him away from you for weeks at a time only for those same gaps to start getting longer and longer while his stays grew shorter.

That's not good enough.

"So that's it?" Simon cannot honestly expect you to take his paltry excuse and run with it. As if it's enough to stitch together the wound his silence left behind. "Work? That's what you're going with?" It's the audacity that stings the most, the hope that you'd simply accept it and move past all of this heartache.

For all you know, he could be lying through his teeth, spinning enough truth to make it seem believable. You must have your suspicions plastered on your forehead because Simon peels himself off the sink with a sharp breath and narrowed eyes.

"'M many things, love, but a liar ain't one of 'em." His hand disappears into the front pocket of his worn denims, and when he pulls it free, you instantly recognize the tattered, frayed edges of his wallet. Still clinging to life, it seems. As stubborn as the man holding it. He opens it and extends it to you because it's imperative you see...?

"Work." And right there is an ID, not your plain old driver's license, which you're unsurprised to see absent. The man has no business being behind the wheel of any vehicle; he's a threat to all life and limb while on the road— but a military ID, the insignia emblazoned on the card unmistakable. You'd pieced together as much but never fully assumed, never formed a picture, just a blurred outline that left more questions than answers.

Name: Simon Riley. Rank: Lieutenant. Special Forces is right above the square where a photo is supposed to be. "There's no picture." You flash your eyes up at his in question.

"Never," he states.

You swallow thickly. An admission, this is. A roughly hewn olive branch tucked away in the ratty wallet you'd told him to toss ages ago. He snaps it shut with a practiced flick and then rucks up the right sleeve of his jacket up to the crook of his elbows, exposing his forearm, stark and freckled, the skin pale but then closer to his wrist, his flesh taking on a more golden hue— honeyed, sun-kissed.

Simon Riley does not tan.

"Sat on my arse out in a barren stretch o' land f'r months on end, cookin' under the blazin' sun while waitin' for orders tha' never came," he grumbles, voice weary. He doesn't flinch when your wandering fingers feather across the darkened strip of skin. "The only form o' communication was local." You flip his hand, the underside of his wrist startlingly pale like the underbelly of a fish. "Couldn't 'ave reached out even if I wanted to. No signal."

It hangs heavy, what he was willing to share, and you're wondering if he's only asking for understanding or something else. Your treacherous heart flutters in your chest, breath squeezing from your lungs. A tiny part of you hopes for he's asking for that something else.

There's a new scar on his palm, close to the hardened calluses on his knuckles, the deep, puckered groove still red and raw— fresh enough to make you wince— and you can't help the frown that pulls at your lips. You can bet he took care of this himself, the oaf. Probably spit it clean and wrapped it up with whatever he had on hand. He's lucky it didn't infect.

"Only when I came back did I receive the missed calls, the texts, the bloody voicemail," he gnarls, and while the sharpness of his tone isn't aimed at you, you feel the biting sting of it anyway. Simon cradles your hand in his much larger one, and he doesn't squeeze, doesn't hold too tight; he simply holds it, the choice to refuse him if you wanted.

You don't.

"And this isn't something you could've told me before? I know I pressed when I shouldn't have," chagrin pools in your cheeks, "but I worried for you. You were sometimes so unreachable, standing between two worlds at once. I couldn't help ease the weight of your responsibilities because I didn't know what I was dealing with." As you thread your fingers with his, they feel impossibly small, brittle— like the bones of a bird swallowed in the expanse of his hand. How unsettling.

(Yet you wouldn't have it any other way.)

Simon shakes his head, slow and deliberate, but his grip on your hand tightens. "I've more enemies than friends," he mutters, raising your hand to his masked lips, the gesture oddly tender as he presses a kiss on it even though it forces you to rise onto your tiptoes. You blow a puff of air, mildly exasperated. Big geezer.

"Every time I rid myself o' one, two take their place. I only did it t' keep ya safe. There's nothin' they'd love more than to exploit any o' my weaknesses." He says it as though the admission itself is dangerous, and maybe it is, but the risk, you believe, is one worth taking even if he won't.

Where he sees danger, you see trust. And that's all you ever wanted. Trust, because either you'll have all of him or none of him, so you tell him that.

His grip tightens imperceptibly. "Only wha' I feel is safe f'r you to know. Nothin' more." You know he means it. You've seen how far he's willing to go, how much he's willing to sacrifice, to keep you out of harm's reach.

Simon will shoulder just about anything alone if it means you'll be kept safe.

How lovely. He's taken it upon himself to play Batman when no one cast him into the role. Ah, well. A win is a win, and you've long learned some battles aren't worth the effort today, so you tuck this conversation into the back of your mind, a note to revisit at a later date. As for now, though...

"Alright, Si," the old nickname slips from you so easily, as if it never left, "We can continue this tomorrow, if you're able, but as for me," your gaze flickers to the faint ring of grime around the drain and the scribbles covering the peeling walls, "I've just about had it with this place."

But he's got no interest in letting you go now, not when you've given him the second chance he'd been desperate for. Instead, he jerks you to him, your shoulder colliding into his chest, his arms cinching tight around you. There is no grace, no soft pretense to it— just a raw, unfiltered need of a man clinging to what he's been too afraid to lose; your arsecheeks apparently because that's what he's currently pawing at.

Pervert. Honestly, you'd applaud him for holding back from groping you for this long. No shame in giving credit where it's due. You thought about letting him have his fill, indulging his starved-dog behavior until his hands started to wander beneath your clothes. You ought to make him stop this before it spirals into something completely out of your control.

Ah, but then he latches onto the sensitive spot on your neck, right below the ear, so close to your drumming pulse and your words snag in your throat like fishhooks when he suckles.

It's tragic how quickly you cave.

Simon's breath fans hot over your spit-slick throat, slow and composed while yours is sharp and shallow as if you can't quite catch it. He jerks his head toward the stall, and you freeze, disbelief rooting you in place.

"You're joking." He's gone and lost whatever scraps of sanity he had left back wherever he was because there's no way you're getting down and dirty in— your lip curls in distaste as you look at the industry-grade bottle of disinfectant that sits in the corner— here. But then he's dragging you toward the nearest stall anyway, your bag tumbling to the ground, not my bag, Simon, shit, you owe me another. The door is a pitiful excuse for privacy, barely clinging to the hinges and sporting a gap wide enough to make you grimace. You've hardly any time to register anything else before Simon is already at your feet, smoothly dropping to one knee, the crown of his head dipping slightly below your navel.

Simon's hands cup the back of your thighs, palms spread wide as they trail upward, the tips of his fingers finding lace and not your everyday cotton. With a deliberate slowness, he lifts the hem of your skirt, his neck craning just enough to bring his line of sight under the drape of fabric, and his gaze lingers.

Oh right. You've got on that set— the one he'd carefully chosen for your birthday, that one that fits you so perfectly it almost feels unfair. A little indulgence that'd been meant for his eyes only. Even as you'd slipped it on earlier tonight, it'd felt like you'd been breaking the rules.

It makes you wonder...

You hook a leg over his shoulder, the heel of your shoe digging into the straight plane of his back. "Well?" Your question is wrapped in feigned nonchalance. "Does it make you upset?" Simon shrugs, dismissive, his eyes steady as they lock onto yours. The dim light above buzzes faintly, its unkind glow spilling over his rugged face. It does nothing to soften the sharpness of his features.

And you notice a new scar, tiny, close to his hare's lip.

"Doesn't threaten me, sweet'eart."

A sharp laugh escapes you. How infuriatingly arrogant. Simon leans in, his nose brushing against your sex roughly before he takes a crude sniff, unrestrained, unapologetic. Nasty as always.

The faintest smirk curls the corners of his lips. "Can't blame me, my girl and I 'ave been apart f'r too long." Humming, you place a hand on his head, palming over the short bristles of his hair before curling around the back of his neck, and you grind down on him.

"If you're hungry, then eat." The smile you give him after your gracious offer is nothing short of salacious.

Simon thumbs your gusset to the side and slips his tongue through your folds, and it's electric, raw. Frissons ripple through you, starting from your nape, and it cascades down your arm and your legs, and the sensation is sharp, almost overwhelming, and you bow forward, nails digging into the dense muscle of his traps.

It's been so fucking long.

Hot, wet pressure circles around your swollen clit, purposefully shy of what you covet, enough to stir something within you but not enough to satisfy— nowhere near enough. It makes you testy. Impatient. It pushes you to lose control, feeling it slip from his grasp, only to land squarely in his.

It's the exact reaction Simon craves. You can grind down on the tip of his nose all you want, push and pull at his head every which way, but you don't come without his say so, and to earn that, there's something you have to do.

By the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip, bite-swollen and glossy with spit, peering down at him with bleary eyes after having rutted against his face without restraint, frantically seeking the friction you yearn for, you also know what to do.

Good.

Now he waits. Your pussy is dripping slick, dewy honey trailing down his chin and joining the sticky mess pooling near his knee, but he doesn't care— his focus is entirely on you. Simon knows exactly how this will end. You're as mulish as ever, he muses, but you'll break. You always do. It's not a question of if but when, and he's content to wait as long as it takes for the inevitable. After all, he's a patient man when he chooses to be.

Your chest heaves with every ragged draw of air to your lungs, your pretty lips quivering with need, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. If he had the skill, he'd pencil this very moment onto paper, immortalizing it. The desperation that clings to your features, the frustrated grunts you give when he laps at your— his— cunt, tongue skimming just shy of your pearl.

It's intoxicating. A heady visceral rush that courses through his veins and pools white-hot in his groin, stiffening his cock almost painfully.

And then, when a finger dips into your sopping entrance, the composure you'd been desperately clinging to begins to come apart. Simon watches it unfold through heavy-lidded eyes, the gentle part of your lips, the tremor in your breath— he drinks up every single second.

"Please," your voice is barely more than a breadth of a whisper. Your surrender is almost as sweet as you.

The kiss he plants on the inside of your thigh is searing as he hums. "What's it?" The prickly stubble of his jaw scratches against your skin. "Don't lose ya courage now," he murmurs, "you've already fought 'alf the battle.

Heat licks up the sides of your jaw, but you truck on, dignity long lost, in tatters next to your bag on the floor. "Please let me come." Your words come out in a half whine, half plea, and Simon's response is immediate; he cants your hips as two thick fingers enter you fully, and at this angle, it's more than he knows you can take, but you asked for it. Begged for it.

Simon takes it slow, not easy, the suction on your clit maddening; strong, fluttering pulses that seemingly beat in tandem with your heart and the world begins to tilt on its axis, his strong hands keeping you anchored lest your knees give way beneath you.

The world narrows down to the sound of your hiccups, the tension coiled spring tight below your navel, the feel of his shirt knotting in your fist— if he had hair long enough to tug, you would've ripped it out.

You knock your head back against the door almost violently, the dull throb stamped out by the livewire crackling beneath your skin when you finally do come, a scorching heat radiating from within your core out, leaving a raw, tingling sensation in its wake. It stings, you dazedly muse. The orgasm that was wrenched from you was so thunderous your pussy stings. It's short-lived but potent, and you can't help but wince, your lips curling, teeth slightly bared in discomfort.

Ouch.

Simon, on the other hand, is just peachy, unbothered as ever, leaned back on his haunches, chin glistening with slick, his thumb sweeping what's about to drip off his nose.

"Don't think for a second I'm returning the favor here. I've standards, Simon." He huffs in response but says nothing, expecting nothing less of you, instead opting to shrug his jacket off and place it over your drooping shoulders. Your limbs feel leaden as you exit the stall, Simon nimbly reaching for your health hazard of a bag before leading you toward the door.

Your fingers curl around the knob, and twist and pull—

and nothing. Confusion knots your brows together as you retrace your steps. Had you pushed or pulled it open? You can't quite recall, so you give it a firm push it instead—

and nothing. Again. The door stays closed.

"Need help there?" Irritation sparks within you, wishing your glare would eviscerate the obstinate door. Does Simon think himself funny? All you want is to go home, scrub yourself sparkling clean, and sleep until the late afternoon, but the door is conspiring against you. Good. Great, even.

"Bloody door," you grumble, "It won't open." Simon steps forward, unhurried, and twists the handle once, twice—

"Open sesame," he says, tone utterly flat and casual, and you snap your slackened jaw shut. "Oh for fuck's sake, Simon, keep your shit jokes," but the door opens with a click.

You're joking.

You're fucking joking.

It swings wide with a creak, and you glance around instinctively. Nothing out of place— just the usual drunken bodies flowing in and out, their laughter and slurred conversations blending into the background.

Simon drapes a heavy arm around your shoulders, large hand squeezing firm as he walks you out, and you trudge alongside, your gait sluggish, until a massive bulk stumbles into your path, and Simon quickly places himself between you and the drunken mass, both a protector and a threat.

The bloke is a guy with a row of thick hair that runs from his forehead to the nape of his neck, the sides clean shaven. "Sorry, bonnie, didnae mean ta-" limpid blue flashes to Simon, his thin-lipped smile stretches wide— too wide— flashing too many teeth for comfort, "bump into ye." He doesn't linger though, clodhopping his way back to the bar. There's a bold-lined tattoo on his nape, of a... revolver? A choice.

"Walk. I'll take ya home. Won't come in for a nightcap," the lines by his eyes becoming more pronounced. "Scouts 'onor." Simon pulls you along, and you're fighting off the sleep in your eyes when a man in a cap, his profile partially hidden by the brim, bumps his knuckles against Simon's shoulder, and curiosity outweighs your fatigue.

"Who's that?"

Simon grunts. "Security."

You don't remember having been frisked by security when you came in.

The crisp air outside bites your cheeks when you step out, and you're grateful for Simon's forethought as you tug the sides of his jacket closer to you, burying your nose into the collar— it smells of cigarette smoke and him, musky and woodsy— a quiet comfort. Sleep tugs at your eyelids, each step feeling heavier than the last as you make your way towards his vehicle.

The metal door groans as it opens, and he extends a hand, aiding you up when you squeeze it as you slur out a confession.

I missed you.

He doesn't falter in his movements as he guides both your feet inside, and his hands are steady as he adjusts the belt, buckle quietly clicking into place until he straightens, gaze dark and fluid as it lingers on you.

He runs the rough pad of his thumb along your bottom lip tenderly.

"I know, sweet'heart. Get some sleep."

The door closes with a firm but gentle push.

I know, he says. Exhaustion pulls at you, dragging you further away from consciousness. Bastard.

Simon doesn't wake you when he pulls up to your driveway, hooking an arm under your knees and the other around your waist to take you inside, your head lolling on his shoulder. Tomorrow, you'll ask him how he knows where you live, considering you moved for a new job months ago.

[sheepispink]

THE TRUTH. (super soldier au part 2)

cw: mentions of telling someone to commit suicide, threats, bullying

guys idk how i feel about this one but here u go 🙏

PART ONE

———-

Happy Birthday

freak.

A present stopped you from walking out at your usual time. It was a week until your birthday, and usually no one remembered other than those who had your file. Although that mostly consisted of blacked out paragraphs now.

It’s wrapped a little messily, not the worst, and you slowly pick it up, noticing a weight inside. You had never got a present before, much less more than a small timeframe to have some sort of celebration— not that you ever took that opportunity anyway. Most years you were too busy hung up with wires and drowning in your mind from drugs. Your thumb brushes over the paper curiously, looking for a name tag but finding nothing to mark the sender. Neatly, you rip a line through the paper which reveals a cardboard box. It’s blank, no branding or anything to attach itself to. When you open it though, you’re quickly greeted by a strange sight; a gun.

A handgun to be more specific, a Browning L941 if you wanted details. It sits neatly in the box, looking clean but you can tell by the small nicks in metal it’s not new. There’s a note beside it, typed— never handwritten.

“If your aim is as good as they say, surely you can prove it by putting it to your head.”

You’re not too surprised, at least more than the initial eye widening. After all, you did deal with the piece of paper on your designated breakfast table every morning. Your eyes flicker down, to the sentence beneath.

“If you’re too scared, we’ll just have to deliver the gift in person.”

That makes you blink, the implications of the clear threat not lost on you. It wasn't the first time you’ve heard them; enemies swore that they’d tear you apart limb by limb, Ghost promised he’d douse you in cold water the next time you caused a bloodbath and even the scientists taunted you with those syringes. The difference was, those were.. well threats you couldn't exactly avoid. Ghost would always get mad at you for making a mess, and you used to be far more rebellious against the scientists— or was that fear? Enemies threatening you was just a farce anyway, you’d have their bodies by your feet soon enough that it wasn't even worth thinking over twice. But this? Comrades, or well they’re supposed to be, who want to kill you? Teammates who would live happier knowing they put you to the grave. It’s no longer the opposing team, no longer the one Ghost points his finger at, no longer the ones that destroy humanity.

No, they only want to destroy you.

For the first few days, you tried to shake it, but you were feeling the weight of the words even more than usual. The stab of pain in your back when they threw the bread roll at you; that could be a bullet next time. Your shoes in the toilet could be your body next time. The fox who whines and whimpers would be you when you were deemed useless.

The truth was, you didnt care about the damn movie, or the cake you were promised, nor even the words “happy birthday” being said to you. It was an excuse, a white lie even, to get the Captain, or Ghost, hoping one of them would actually come into your room. Never have they stepped foot in since your first arrival, never feeling the need to either. The Captain only had time to care when you emailed him, but even that seemed too risky, what if he laughed it off and the surrounding soldiers heard? Ghost barely ever gave you time to talk anyway, and when you did get a moment, there were too many around.

So you invited them over, tried your best act as if you really wanted a birthday to celebrate with them. They’d come, you’d show them the note, the gun. If they laughed, it’d be fine, hidden in your room— you could find a solution before they told the others and it spread around the base. If they didn't laugh, you’d be safe, guaranteed that no one would really try what would happen on that piece of paper.

But you hadn't anticipated that neither of them would come at all. Your eyes brim with tears, unsure how that is even possible as you step into your room, a tenseness sinking into your bones and spreading across your body. With them completely out of the picture, you’re left by yourself until your end surely comes. Maybe you should’ve known, especially when you remember what soldiers call you— a monster.

But it wasn’t in your coding, in your genes or even near your thought process to harm those that threaten you— at least not first anyways, and especially when they’re not explicitly enemies. This was a moral dilemma your tampered mind wasn't capable of handling. Despite the sick growing in your stomach, you had a plan. There were outdoor training rooms, more specifically small cabins that were sometimes used to punish soldiers if they acted up too much.

The gift remains untouched on the dresser, a silent promise watching you at all times. It’s almost four o clock now, and the day isn't getting any brighter in the middle of winter. Opening your closet, your hands pass over the many uniforms there. That’s all they give you, uniforms, it’s why yours are always clean— your only purpose is to fight. So you grab the jacket in the furthest corner, the one usually saved for extreme weather conditions and slip that on. It disguises your figure enough and the hiking boots are exactly what you need to be a new person.

Your hand grazes the knives in your old belt, and you take a few, sliding them into the new holster behind the jacket. Just in case. There’s nothing else to take now, apart from your small radio that you sometimes keep on your person— you dont really use a phone either since it was seen to be a distraction. You’ll likely have to starve for the rest of the day, though with your knowledge you could probably find some sort of food out there. Just in case, you grab an MRE, a spare that stays around in the off chance you get dizzy from eating nothing all day.

Slowly you step out in the hallway, looking around for anyone before closing your door shut again. You didnt dare make it suspicious with a backpack, so your bottle is stuffed into your jacket pocket instead. Same for the untampered gift on the table, they’d assume you’d be back later to open it.

This was your best bet.

You head down the corridors, keeping a confident pace so people wouldn’t even try suspect you— that’s the key to everything, after all. Ironically, that wasn’t the situation at all, in fact they were.. friendly? A few soldiers gave you a nod as you walked past, which wasn’t the craziest thing but, considering no one’s ever done that before, it was exhilarating. You nod in turn, a mask hiked up to your nose but it just looks like you’re keeping your face warm for when you go outside— not that anyone here is phased by a mere mask anyway. Infact, a few soldiers who look particularly boisterous even go as far to fist bump you, likely thinking you’re someone they know. You don't care in the slightest; you’re just happy that for once you get to experience what your life should’ve been like.

The giddiness is temporary though, as you turn the corner to see Ghost stepping out of a room with two crates of drinks in his hands. You falter, stopping in your tracks as he closes the door behind him.

Is this really the right idea? Running away like this?

It’s only for the day, at least that was the idea, but what after that? What if they didn't stop at your birthday— what if it continued? You could tell him right now, pull the mask down that covers your face and confess every little detail running through your head. What would you do if he got in trouble for your foolish decisions? He had shown his stance when he chose not to show up at your birthday party; he clearly didn't care at all.. right?

“Do you need something?” He says lowly, clearly having realised that you’ve frozen in your tracks before him, and giving you a narrowed stare for that reason. Surprisingly, it’s less demeaning and more questioning, considering how harsh his eyes usually go when looking at you. It gives you a bit of hope.

”D-do you need any help with that, sir?” You’re not sure why your voice stuttered, not particularly wanting to think much about the matter either. Instead, you stare right back at him, your eyes widened as you stare in his pupils moving around like it’s searching you.

Did he recognise you?

“No, that’s alright.” It’s gruff, and harsh and yet far more nicer than he’s ever spoken to you before. You manage to force yourself to nod in response, giving a small salute before hurrying off down the corridor.

Trekking through the forest is a little bit of an effort but you eventually meet the small cabin that’s there. It’s almost never used in winter, but in the summer they might do their training in these areas and keep the lunch here. Slowly you step inside, recognising from the get go that there’s not particularly much. There’s a few bedrolls for wilderness training, albeit a bit torn and some dry firewood left discarded on the little fireplace. That’s good, at least you won't freeze anymore than you already have. It’s not like you can use it though— it’s too risky. If anyone sees smoke out here you’re bound to get caught in seconds, and possibly even by your predators.

You lock the cabin door, placing a chair beneath the handle as you let out a sigh and slump against the wall. This would be a long, painstaking night and you cant help but wonder if it’d been better to just defend yourself when they came. But what if you lost control? What if you seriously hurt someone? Even if they were trying to harm you?

The thought makes you shudder, even more than the thoughts you’ve been desperately pushing back. But when there is nothing else to do in this cold place, it’s hard to keep your mind focused. The only way you survived these past three months with Ghost is by not thinking about your situation— at all. It’s probably why he hates you. From how he reacts anyway, you’re more like a robot than you’ve ever been a human. You’ve been monitored all your life, since before you were born you were made for the cause. No clue of who your mother was, you were genetically modified as an embryo for all the traits they wished for you to have. Other children in the program had the same, of course, and for the first years of your life you were blissfully unaware. You didn’t understand that the kids you ran around and giggled with would end up being your own enemies, despising that you turned out to be the successful experiment and not them. It wasn't as glamorous as it sounded, but they complained, saying you didnt have to be sent away like they did, to be fostered and deal with the pain of the experiments for the rest of their lives.

That’s exactly what you had though. You were split from them altogether, coddled by scientists and doctors, personal trainers who felt more like drill sergeants than anyone that wanted to help you. Of course, you were tampered with too, drugged up on strange substances as they tampered with your nerves, always changing you to be better because you were never enough for them. They were supposed to enforce rationality within you by erasing anything that could get you worked up, and so your emotions became suppressed, pushed down and piled with the weight of responsibilities to keep them down. But it clearly wasn't successful, at least when you’re not on the battlefield. When you entered that place, it was like a switch had turned on in your brain, all morality slipping out as you only followed the orders of whoever the handler was. Your mind always enters a haze after you snap out of it and come back from hours of combat, leaving you feeling sick to the core.

But now, things are changing— too fast. You had cried, because they didn't come to your birthday party. For once, your stomach felt sickly with misery and your breath had caught in your throat when you’ve never stopped breathing before, ever. Your hand reaches into your pocket, pulling out a small fox toy. It was a gift from a younger scientist who had just been a mere intern. He had been put forward for the menial task of looking after your post-experimentation state, making sure your vitals were fine. You didnt get to talk to him that much, considering you mostly were deep in sleep, recovering from the new strain on your body. But he stayed beside you, making sure you were okay. When you left to get tested on the field with Ghost, he gave you a small plush, just the size of your hand.

“A little gift.” He chuckled, smiling gently as he rubbed your bandaged arm. “Don't give me that look. I know you’re not actually that unbothered, they just made you that way. You can say you like it, you know, that it makes you happy.”

You could only nod in return, it was the truth, you were very happy.

The sky was already growing dark and without the determination that kept your body distracted from your needs, you were actually feeling your hunger full force for once. The little fox is clenched deep in your hands, a natural predator and yet it’s more common to see them die out in the wild than thriving. Just like you. Your stomach growls, and so you reach for your MRE, eyeing the food within. You were probably supposed to warm it up first, but you’d just have to eat it like this for now. You rip the first packet open, and just try to scarf it down without thinking about the taste too much. It wasn’t the best to say the least. But you’re used to it now; you barely got proper meals apart from missions, and often had to eat one of these after an unsuccessful trip to the mess hall.

You’re about to inspect the other packet when a low scratching noise is heard against the door. Instantly, you pause, mind shifting into something akin to a battle mode already. Slowly, you approach the door, pressing your ear as your hand reaches in your belt for the knife. The windows were frosted up, so it’s unlikely they could see in when it was already pretty dark in here. A low whine echoes out and you realise who's actually stalking you, quickly removing the chair and opening the door. The little fox stands there, looking up at you as it slowly steps inside the cabin.

For once, you let your guard down and just sigh, closing the door and securing it again. “C’mere.” You rarely fear anything, and so you scoop the little fox up without a second thought, even as it squirms initially and its claws are sharp on you. You settle in the warmest area of the room again, next to your mre pack and grab the fork, scooping out some of the food. You didn't need the rest, but he could use it. The fox reluctantly eats the food, and you giggle when you realise it probably doesn't taste much better to him either despite being starving. You took it off by letting him drink half the bottle of your water, which he greedily takes along with a few fruits you packed.

“Your fur is matted, and you’re all banged up but you’re still adorable.” The thought makes you sniffle, a bittersweet smile rising on your lips. The fox rests its head on your lap as you run your hand over its fur, gently scratching every now and then. Why couldn’t people see the truth in you as you did right now? You’ve trained for so long, fought to keep all of them safe on their missions and all you got in return was a scared look, disgust and sometimes even anger. It hurt, more than you allowed yourself to feel.

But this is the first time you’ve been alone without the battlefield before you, or a supervisor staring you down. You could have a gun to your head tonight, and no one will find out until the morning, so for now you just begged that the soldiers were joking, for the sake of everyone involved.

You just wish Ghost and Price would’ve listened, so you could be safe and warm back there, at least getting an early sleep on your birthday. The scientist promised, he said it’d get better, he said there would be others who would care like he did. He said only the higherups were this bad; he lied to you. The tears drip again, unable to stop this time and you bury your face in your hands, mourning everything you’ve lost, and everything you’ve yet to lose. Dead or alive, you may lose it all.

————————-

Taglist:

@mellohimmku94 @rafaelacallinybbay

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

Your work is amazing, I love the way you interpret Simon’s personality and speech patterns in the prosthetic arm Simon fic.❤️

hello, anon! thank you so much for the kind words. i just wanted to take this opportunity to post this deleted part of prosthetic arm simon.

sfw. angst (?). highschool dropout simon. shame.

the prosthetic is finished.

it fits like a second skin. moves smooth, seamless, with no lag between thought and motion. it’s perfect. better than anything he could’ve gotten himself. better than the overpriced models he looked at years ago, wondering if he could stomach the debt just to feel normal again.

and for a moment, as he flexes his fingers, as he watches the metal articulate like flesh, he feels… proud. proud of you, of your work, of the precision in every detail. he turns his hand over, watching the way the joints move, the faint hum of technology so advanced he still doesn’t fully understand it.

but then— the thought creeps in, unbidden, unwelcome.

his throat tightens.

does this mean he doesn’t have an excuse to see you anymore?

his fingers still, mid-motion.

the past few months have been good. better than he expected. seeing you, talking to you, getting to know you beyond the surface-level interactions he usually keeps with people.

but now?

now there’s no more check-ups. no more adjustments. no more need for him to stop by so you can make small tweaks, run diagnostics, ensure everything’s running smoothly.

simon swallows, something cold curling in his chest. he tells himself he’s being ridiculous. that if he really wanted to see you, he could just— just call, just text, just ask.

but that’s not how he works.

he’s spent so long just coasting with people. staying at arm’s length, keeping interactions simple, necessary, easy to walk away from.

but you? you’re not easy to walk away from.

“you did good,” he says, and he means it. he just hopes you can’t hear everything else under it.

you don’t seem to notice his unease, too excited as you bounce on your heels, practically beaming.

“oh- i have news!”

he blinks. tries to steady himself. “yeah?"

“my thesis got picked to be presented at congress!”

it takes him a second. longer than it should. he hears the words, knows what they mean, but they feel far away, like his mind is still caught in the spiral from before.

but then he sees the way you’re looking at him, the pure joy on your face, and something inside him lurches

“shit,” he breathes. “that’s- that’s incredible.”

and it is. you deserve this. you deserve more than this.

he shows up to the congress.

he doesn’t tell you he’s coming. he doesn’t even decide until the last minute, standing in front of his closet, staring at the one half-decent button-up he owns.

but then he’s there, standing outside the venue, and he brings flowers.

he’s never done that before. never even bought flowers before, really. but he stands outside the venue, fingers tight around the cheap bouquet, feeling ridiculous and out of place.

he feels out of place.

too big, too rough, too obviously not part of the sleek, academic crowd milling around in suits and dresses. he tugs at his sleeves, shifting his weight, half-ready to just leave the flowers somewhere and go before—

then he sees you. scanning the crowd, eyes searching.

and when you spot him— you light up.

like he’s supposed to be here. like he’s not just some guy who stumbled in, unsure if he even belongs in moments like these.

you rush over, practically colliding into him, and he barely has time to react before you’re grabbing the flowers, pressing your face into them, laughing breathlessly.

“you came.”

his throat works. he clears it, rubbing the back of his neck.

“’course i did,” he mutters.

you smile.

…

he knew this was a bad idea.

he knew from the moment he walked into the restaurant, stiff in his chair, palm sweating against the napkin in his lap.

knew when you slid into the seat across from him, looking bright and effortless and so at ease, still glowing from your big presentation, still beaming about the congress.

knew when he looked down at the menu and realized he didn’t recognize half the words on it.

simon’s spent years in places like this— quiet, dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of good food and low conversation. but he’s always been alone. always sat in a corner with his back to the wall, a meal in front of him and no one expecting him to talk.

but now— now there’s you.

and you’re talking, telling him about the congress, about the people you met, the questions they asked. you sound so fucking excited, like the whole world is opening up in front of you, and simon—

simon just nods.

he doesn’t know what to say. doesn’t know how to keep up.

he’s never been smart like you. never been the type to sit in lecture halls, to write papers, to stand in front of a room full of academics and present something that matters.

he barely finished school. left home at sixteen, signed his life away at eighteen, spent more years holding a gun than a pen.

simon’s just good at breaking it.

he doesn’t belong in places like this. doesn’t belong next to you. you who's all bright ideas and ambition, the kind of person who builds things, who makes the world better.

he shifts in his seat, hyper-aware of how he looks— broad shoulders hunched awkwardly, big hands clumsy against the silverware, a goddamn mutt at a dinner table.

he wonders if you notice. if you see it. if you realize you could do better.

your food arrives. you thank the waiter, pick up your fork—

and before you can even take a bite, it slips out.

“i-”

you pause, fork halfway to your mouth.

simon grips his napkin under the table, flexes his fingers, heart thudding heavy in his ribs.

he shouldn’t ask. should just let this be a nice dinner, let you go home, let you move on.

but—

“would you…” he swallows, throat dry, stomach tight.

he shouldn’t ask.

“would you want to go on a date with me?”

the words hit the table like lead.

silence.

he doesn’t breathe. doesn’t move. because fuck, he actually said it.

and now there’s nothing but the space between you, the quiet hum of conversation, the faint clink of cutlery against plates—

and you. staring at him.

he braces for rejection. tells himself it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s—

“yeah,” you say, voice light with something he can’t name. “i would.”

his stomach drops.

relief. disbelief. something dangerously close to hope.

he exhales, tension bleeding from his shoulders. nods, just once, like he’s acknowledging an order. like his hands aren’t trembling under the table.

“okay,” he mutters.

then, quieter—

“good.”

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 7 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 5k

A/N: HELLO Y'ALL!!! This one is coming a little earlier than usual because I am more anxious to update than y'all are anxious to read lmao Past chapter had so many comments!!! I'm glad you guys liked it so much. It was such a fun chapter to write! Hope y'all will like this one as much! ALSO checks page HOW MANY KUDOS??? WHAT THE HELL??? 😭😭 Thank you so much!!! It truly means so much to me 😭😭 Anyway let me shut up lol enjoy!! <3

⤕  Chapters: check masterlist in bio!  ⤕ Also on AO3

Guilt was a feeling Alucard avoided vehemently.

After you reach a certain age, you realize that there are some feelings and situations that you should avoid for your own sanity. One of them – perhaps the most important – is to avoid thinking too much about the past. One thing is to cherish the people you’ve met and loved, to keep some moments close to your heart; another thing is refuse that they will never come back and to avoid facing the present. Alucard knew quite well that this can sink you. That’s why he was constantly busying himself – traveling the world, meeting new cultures, learning new things.

Another thing he avoided – this one took him a long time to learn, a whole lot of grief to understand – was to… get too attached. And yes, this made him lonelier than ever. Yes, this wasn’t entirely healthy. He knew about all that. But his mortal heart wasn’t strong like his immortal body, and there was a moment in his life when he decided that he couldn’t take much more pain anymore. Stepping away from the Belmonts was… difficult, but was what the needed at the moment. He needed to let his heart heal, and the only thing that heals is time. Perhaps much more time than he first assumed.

And then there was guilt. Alucard didn’t like to feel guilt because it meant that he failed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t someone that could fail. His ways of life, his fights, the things he stood for usually involved countless innocent lives, so he couldn’t give himself the luxury of failing. Alucard was methodical, precise, insistent – not to say stubborn. Because yes, he could he stubborn –; he only accepted perfection of himself. Him succeeding meant no one suffered. Therefore, no guilt.

That’s why Alucard was partially hating himself at that moment. He’d felt more guilt in the span of 48 hours than in the last few years.

He almost couldn’t look at Ruby in the eye.

Luckily, she was sitting behind him as he guided the horse on the streets of Paris, so he wouldn’t have too see her for some moments – but her arms around his waist and the warmth of her body were a reminder that she was there.

His feelings were a bit… chaotic at the moment, to be honest. On one hand, he was glad – relieved – that Ruby had healed. On the other hand, he knew that the reason why she got so hurt in the first place was because of him. He told her she wouldn’t get hurt and he weren’t there to protect her, even if she claimed to have jumped in front of a night creature to save Annette. And then there was the other part of him (the methodical, precise and stubborn part of him) hissing that he shouldn’t be wasting time going to the Louvre because there was an army of vampires coming and he had to act.

But Alucard couldn’t tell her no. Not really. Not when she looked at him with that glow in her eyes – a glow of hope he hadn’t seen in her yet. Alucard couldn’t bring himself to be so cruel. Especially not after what she’d been through mere hours ago.

He owed her that.

Ruby was becoming a bigger mystery to him in more complicated ways than he first assumed. It didn’t involve only her unknown past, but also her behavior. It was difficult for him to understand how she was acting so normal after what she had just suffered. Sure, the methodical part of him was thankful to that – he had to act fast; quite frankly, he wouldn’t have time to wait until she recovered. If her healing took longer than it did, he would have a real problem at hands, and if she was frozen in shock, it would also be a problem.

But then there was his mortal heart speaking into his mind, too. It never shut up, unfortunately.

There was something so deeply wrong with Ruby.

The more time he spent with her, the more he watched her, the more he heard her heart race and her fingers shake at the most casual situations – like walking into a crowd or mustering courage to speak –, the more he realized that Ruby didn’t have any care for herself, the angrier he got.

Alucard also avoided getting too angry. Anger was a form of attachment as well; it tied the ones he despised to him. Anger could take a person like him – eternal and powerful – down a very dangerous path. Anger led to wrath, which let to hatred.

But again… it was getting hard for Alucard to keep his feelings in place. Not when he could still feel the now faint smell of Ruby’s blood.

In fact, he thought she was going to die.

Her blood was everything Alucard could feel the moment he stepped out of the Seine. He knew it was Ruby’s; he got quite familiar with it due to that scratch on her heel as they walked to Juste’s cottage. It was so strong that he almost could see the air turning red. It must’ve drawn the attention of every vampire in the area.

And then he rushed to the palace and saw her in that state.

She can heal, Alucard tried to convince himself, but could she, really? He’d seen her heal from cuts, not multiple fractures and mass bleeding. Those wounds meant death to any human and vampire, unless they could drink blood to strengthen their healing process.

Alucard barely knew her. He was still a tiny bit suspicious of her – of her cloudy past, at least. And yet, the thought of Ruby dying scared him.

Not many things scared him.

Death was one of those things. Not the fear of facing death himself, but having to watch someone close to him die. Alucard was far too familiar with the feeling and he never got used to it.

If Ruby had died at that moment, he’d carry that scar with him for a long time. She didn’t even had a chance to live. She didn’t even remember if she had lived before her imprisonment. If Ruby had died, it wouldn’t only be painful; it would be unfair.

So yes, he got scared. Yes, he held her close and tried to ease her pain – Hell, she looked in so much pain, even if she didn’t scream – because it was the only thing he could do. The Universe couldn’t be so cruel to that woman to just let her die like that. It… it couldn’t.

To his utter relief, Ruby healed. Her skin closed the wounds, the bleeding stopped, she finally passed out and slept for a bit.

Mixed with his relief was also confusion.

Her healing was far more powerful than Alucard first assumed. Alucard didn’t know many vampires that could heal from injuries so serious.

What was Ruby?

Why did she have this strange condition? How did she achieve it? For what end?

Alucard wanted to know. He needed to know. Erzsebet must’ve had a reason not only to keep her, but also to want to retrieve her.

The white-haired vampire instinctively held the reins a bit tighter as he remembered Drolta.

Ruby’s face of pure panic. Fuck, he couldn’t take her expression off his mind. The way Drolta was twirling that necklace around her finger. A ruby necklace. Everything made sense at that moment.

Her nonchalance after getting injured, the little care she had for herself, her fear and hesitance��

These things were growing on him in an ugly way.

A week ago, Erzsebet and Drolta were just two maniacal cult leaders that needed to be stopped. It wasn’t exactly personal. Alucard had dealt with vampires like them many times in his life.

Now, however, he not only needed to stop them – he wanted to kill them.

And this time, he would make sure that they were gone. He would personally make sure that Drolta was actually dead. He would make sure to slash her head off her neck and burn her body to ashes.

He would make sure to shatter that necklace to pieces.

Alucard couldn’t heal Ruby’s soul, but he hoped that their death, at least, would bring her some peace.

Alucard pulled the reins and made the horse gallop significantly slower until it stopped.

“What’s the problem?” Ruby asked close to his ear as she tried to peek ahead over his shoulder.

“The streets around the palace are blocked.” Alucard tightened his eyes a bit. Soldiers barricaded the entrance to the front square of the Louvre, trying to keep a crowd of curious people away. The man let a tired sigh. “Well, I guess I should’ve expected it.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “We’ll have to sneak in by foot.” Ruby nodded. She dismounted from the horse first, being shortly followed by him.

Alucard wandered his eyes around the crowd. They chatted suspiciously among themselves. “I heard an attack happened,” someone said, while another person murmured that “my cousin’s a guard, he told me it were the royalists that wanted to avenge the King,” or someone else said “This is all fake! It’s just to keep our attention here. Another faction is planning to take the country overnight as we speak!”

But then, some young voices caught his attention the most. Three boys discussed excitedly among themselves.

“He’s obviously lying,” the boy in the middle said, crossing his arms and frowning. “Don’t believe him.”

“I’m tellin’ ya!” The shortest of the three insisted, gesticulating excitedly. “I saw a dragon flyin’ inside the palace. Then, some minutes later, I saw another winged thing flying away!”

“It could’ve been a bird.”

“It wasn’t a bird! Never seen a bird so big in my life!”

“Your eyesight isn’t even that good anyway. He said he saw a crocodile in the Seine last week, remember?”

“Hey– you said you saw it, too!”

Alucard couldn’t help but feel a bit of his tension dissipate. The sight was... a bit familiar.

He made a sharp whistle, immediately calling the three boys’ attention.

“Do you lads mind watching my horse for a while?” Alucard said, still holding the reins with one hand. He shook the small coin pouch in his palm.

Their eyes immediately gleamed excitedly. They clumsily made their way to approach him, bumping into each other and grinning.

“Of course, sir!” The shortest one saluted Alucard as if he were a soldier.

The tallest one, noticing Ruby standing near, bowed awkwardly, pinching the tip of his worn out beret. “Mademoiselle,” he said in a high pitched voice. Then, his eyes rapidly traveled from her to Alucard, and he coughed. “I mean– madame.” The two other boys imitated his action like tiny echoes, all equally clumsy.

They earned an endeared smile from her. She held her skirt and bobbed a small curtsy graciously in return.

The three blushed.

Alucard inhaled a small chuckle.

“We won’t take long, so stay in the area.” The white-haired vampire said, catching the boys’ attention again. The shortest one seemed to be some sort of leader of the group, as he was the one to approach and hold the reins. Alucard swiftly placed a coin on each of their open palms. “Rest of the payment when I get back.”

“Thank you, sir!” They said in unison, eyes glued in their shiny coins.

The one that looked the oldest tightened his eyes. “Hm, may I ask, sir, what exactly is your business here? The palace is blocked, as you can see.”

Alucard tightened his eyes at him, too. “I certainly see that it’s blocked, and I certainly wouldn’t advise you boys to get any closer to it.” Then, he dropped his voice, his tone picking their attention once again. “I wonder, however, if you were to get closer to it, which street would you pick?”

They eyed each other. The tallest boy coughed again.

“Well, if I were to get closer to it, I would pick an alley behind the Perrault street… most people don’t gather around there, so…”

“...Less guards,” the oldest completed.

Alucard nodded. He placed one more coin on each of their hands. They giggled.

He pointed ahead with his head to Ruby. However, as he was turning around to leave, he stopped and looked at them.

“By the way, what you saw is correct,” Alucard said in a quiet, serious voice. They all froze. “But that wasn’t a dragon; it was a demon. The city is in danger. When we get back, you boys should get your families and hide.”

He didn’t wait to see the boys’ reaction. Ruby, however, lingered her gaze a little longer on them before following him.

A quiet sadness clouded her eyes, made her shoulders drop a bit. She interlocked her hands on her lower stomach as she walked. It seemed to be a standard quirk of hers, besides the one of gripping her skirt when she was nervous. This specific movement as she walked, however, was very… polite.

Alucard didn’t exactly like it.

Not because he didn’t appreciate good manners. Ruby was, in fact, very gracious in anything she did – from her impeccable posture at all times to the way she sat or the way she ate, the way she held cutlery, the way she never raised her voice too much, or even how she insisted in calling him sir when they first met. She had the good manners of a high society lady.

But Alucard knew that all of this was a product of what she had endured. Making herself smaller, quieter, imperceptible. Ruby didn’t do any of that to impress anyone or to fit into some sort of societal standard. She did it because she was afraid of bringing any attention upon her.

The more he observed her, the more he caught himself silently wishing Ruby would… slouch. Raise her voice, show anger or tiredness or boredom. Make it clear when she didn’t like something or voice her opinions without becoming a puddle of anxiety.

That’s one of the reasons why Alucard couldn’t bring himself to say no when she asked to go to the Louvre. Most of the time, she wasn’t brave enough to speak her mind and make requests. She felt comfortable enough at that moment to ask him. And… Alucard actually hated it, but he had also noticed that, sometimes, Ruby flinched away from him and seemed scared when he showed annoyance or moved too abruptly. Unfortunately, he still had similar physical traits of the ones who hurt her so much. The fact that she was growing comfortable around him made him feel… content.

Ruby looked down. “Poor kids. Their clothes are so worn out…”

“This is the situation for most children in this country. That is mainly why the revolution started.”

“...I guess Richter was right. How can a king have a palace this big while his people die of hunger?” She took some moments to speak again. “And if Erzsebet succeeds… she will make things worse.”

Alucard nodded. “Yes. But she won’t, because we’ll stop her.” He pointed with his finger to a nearby street. “Let’s go.”

They quickened their pace, keeping silent for most of the way. Most streets were crowded by a mass of curious people; the news traveled fast, and it seemed that everyone forgot about the execution earlier and decided to gather at this part of the city. Paris was drowned in chaos. Most soldiers were too worried trying to quiet down the population. How could they even prepare for the incoming battle?

Finally, they arrived at the alley the boy had mentioned – and the little bastard was right. It was a dirty small alley where most people avoided, only being guarded by two soldiers that weren’t paying much attention to their job.

At last, Alucard stopped walking in a spot out of their sight. The back view of the palace was just ahead. He turned around and looked down at Ruby, sending her a hesitant look.

“My apologies, but I will need to do that again.”

She widened her eyes slightly. “Oh. Okay.”

“...Do you think you can handle it this time?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be fine.” She was clearly lying. Well, there was nothing he could do about that.

Alucard wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her up slightly to a point her feet weren’t touching the ground anymore. He narrowed his eyes, visualizing the path he would have to make.

A familiar red glow enveloped his body–

He sprinted through the alley, passing in between both guards so fast that they didn’t even understand what was happening; to them it was just a sudden, violent gush of wind that made their hats fly away and their eyes widen in confusion.

And just like that, they were within the palace’s gardens.

Alucard put Ruby on the floor again. She was visibly dizzy, so he still held her arm for support. She blinked several times, as if trying to fade the vertigo away.

“It… wasn’t that bad this time,” she lied again. It didn’t look like she wanted to vomit this time, though. Alucard smiled slightly and let go of her arm.

“Do you remember in which room you found the artifact?” He asked quietly, worrying that anyone would hear them. He didn’t want to have to confront any human.

“The same where I was trying to hide in,” Ruby looked around the tall building. “The night creature came crashing through the window. We can use it to get in.”

Alucard nodded, trying to remember in what section of the palace that was…

Then he realized that he didn’t need to remember anything, because the scent of her blood was still very much in the air. They didn’t even have time to clean it. Alucard turned his head in the direction where the scent was stronger.

“There. Let’s go.”

They walked fast, Alucard always placing his body in front of her, walking near the wall under the windows to not get caught. They crossed paths with some guards, but luckily were not seen. He wondered why the hell did that place need to be so horizontally big.

Finally, the sight of a destroyed window appeared ahead. As the building had a double height ceiling, it’d be necessary to climb to get through the window. Alucard gesticulated for Ruby to wait. His sword unsheathed itself and floated up; through the reflection on the shiny iron, he saw that although the doors were opened, the gallery was empty.

Alucard once again wrapped his arm around her waist and floated, graciously passing through the window. As soon as their feet landed on the floor, he nodded his head softly; the double doors closed and locked.

He let go of her and she stepped aside.

The gallery was absolutely destroyed; debris and glass everywhere, broken pieces of the wooden crates, rags of once was a curtain around the floor, statues and paintings destroyed… and blood. A lot of blood.

Ruby widened her eyes at the sight of her own dried blood over the floor. It seems she hadn’t realized how much she bled. She gulped and averted her gaze somewhere else.

“It seems they didn’t start to clean things up yet,” she stated the obvious in a nervous tone.

“They’re probably measuring the damage first. It’ll take them a few days,” Alucard crossed his arms, his eyes wandering over the room. He, in fact, felt bad about all that. So many artifacts were destroyed during the fight… thousands of years of art and history went to waste. It was especially outrageous how Drolta didn’t care about the damage at the Egyptian gallery, given that she came from those same ancient times. She had no respect for her own culture anymore.

“Is it here?” he asked, paying attention to her again.

Ruby hummed quietly.

She walked towards the doors, looking for something on the floor. She tip toed around a pool of blood, trying to avoid stepping on it at all costs. Alucard followed her, albeit keeping a good distance so she could scoop the area without his interference.

Finally, she gasped and rushed to grab something at the corner of the room, near the wall. It was hidden behind a destroyed crate.

Ruby turned around, holding a golden scepter with both hands. Her eyes glowed with afraid amazement.

“This is it,” she confirmed.

They approached each other, meeting at the center of the gallery. Alucard analyzed the artifact she held. It was almost as tall as her with a symbol of the sun at its tip. Throughout the entire staff, there were tiny writings engraved. Although it was golden, it wasn’t much adorned; other than the symbol of the sun and the intricate sun rays in the form of curvy spikes, it was very plain. It appeared to be something used in religious ceremonies.

“What happened exactly when you held it for the first time?” He asked.

Ruby looked down at the scepter. “It was covered in rust. I didn’t even know what I was looking at. Then, when I held it, it got… hot. And it shone.”

“It shone?” Alucard quirked one eyebrow up.

“Yes. So bright that I had to close my eyes. And then… all the rust was gone.”

“And after that?”

Ruby pressed her lips together. “...Nothing. The night creature came in and I dropped it.”

Alucard nodded. “Do you feel anything strange right now?”

She shook her head slightly. “No.” She lifted the object closer to his eyes. “But, see? The writings? It’s that same language. Do you recognize what this is?”

Alucard narrowed his eyes. “Can I?”

Ruby handed him the scepter, which he held with both hands. It was quite heavy – actual pure gold. It was a miracle that the royal French family didn’t melt it, or whoever was in possession of the artifact it previously. He brought it close to his face, analyzing the scriptures.

The characters appeared to be organized vertically instead of horizontally, very similar to Mandarin or Japanese structures of writing. These characters, however, meant nothing to him. They weren’t rounded like Sanskrit, weren’t allusive of animals or nature like Egyptian hieroglyphs or ancient Mandarin, and they didn’t resemble the common Latin alphabet. At most, it reminded him a bit of Sumerian writing, given how simplistic the characters seemed to be – but if it really was Sumerian, Alucard would’ve known.

“You know how to read it, but don’t understand the meaning of the words?” Alucard asked without taking his eyes off the scepter.

“Yes.”

“So, each character means a sound.” Ruby nodded. Phonetic, as he suspected, since the characters repeated themselves over and over again.

“Do you have any idea of what it is?” she repeated, sounding hopeful.

Alucard pressed his lips together.

He really missed Sypha in moments like this.

She would’ve immediately known what it was – or at least, had an idea of how to start investigating the origins of this strange language. Alucard became quite good at learning new languages over the years, but not as good as her. Never.

It felt like there was an invisible cold hand pressing around his heart – like it did anytime he thought of her.

“Unfortunately no.” Alucard shook his head. Ruby’s shoulders dropped. “Let’s not be discouraged. This artifact definitely has magic in it; I can feel it.” Yes, it vibrated under his palm in a high frequency – a metaphysical frequency, like all magic things did. It didn’t reek of demonic magic or negative alchemy either. It felt quite neutral; Alucard couldn’t tell what type of magic it stored.

The white-haired vampire frowned.

“And it certainly doesn’t like me.”

Ruby tilted her head to the side, visibly confused. “What?”

There was a strange sensation in his gut. A certain aggressiveness. Alucard didn’t feel like the scepter could actually hurt him, but the bad feeling was there anyway. He handed the artifact back to Ruby; the moment it left his hands, the sensation was gone.

“Some magical items don’t accept being touched by anyone. Some can only be touched by their masters.”

“Like your sword?” She asked, eyeing the weapon that was still protectively floating near Alucard’s body.

“Precisely.” Alucard shrugged. “Or it just doesn’t like me because I am part vampire.” At her utter confusion, he decided to elaborate. “In magic terms, my existence is an aberration. A half-human, half-vampire being goes against the natural order.”

She pressed her lips and looked down. “...But it’s not your fault.”

Alucard chuckled softly. It sounded like she felt bad for him, which he found quite endearing. “The scepter doesn’t know it.”

They were interrupted when someone tried to open the doors. Both turned around immediately, Ruby visibly startled at the sudden sound.

“Who’s in there?” a male voice was heard from the other side. “Open the doors!”

“Let’s go,” Alucard hurried towards the window again. Yet, she froze in place.

“Do we take it with us?”

“Of course.”

“Isn’t it stealing?”

He couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed at her. Alucard stepped closer again. “Everything here was stolen from some other country, Ruby. They won’t miss it.”

And then, he was holding her close to his body again, floating out of the palace through the window. The sword obediently sheathed itself again. However, when he stepped foot on the grass, he didn’t let go of her.

“I’ll have to…”

“Yes. I understand,” she nodded before he could finish, tightening the scepter close to her chest.

Alucard felt a tiny bit bad for a moment before sprinting out of the palace’s gardens in a red blur. She seemed to handle the post-dizziness a bit better this time, though.

They hurried around the streets. Ruby held the artifact with nervousness.

“This thing isn’t exactly subtle,” she said between gritted teeth. Indeed. An object made of gold wasn’t something you could hold around and act nonchalant about.

“I can hide it under my cape if you want,” he offered, to which she shook her head.

“No. If it makes you feel bad, I’d rather not.” It seemed she really didn’t think before saying that, because she froze for a moment and immediately avoided his gaze.

Alucard knew that if he chuckled it’d make her feel bad, so he swallowed it.

They didn’t take long to reach their destination with their fast pace. The street appeared a bit less crowded now. And there they were – the three boys sitting on the sidewalk, the horse obediently beside them. They got up in a jump.

“Here it is, sir!” The tallest presented.

“We took care of it. See?” The oldest boasted.

“Some men even wanted to take it away, but we fought valiantly!” It was the youngest’ turn to lie with a grin.

Alucard opened a small smile and took the reins again. “You did a good job, indeed. As promised, the rest of the payment.”

Their grins got even bigger when the white-haired vampire deposited two more coins each over their open palms.

The shortest of the group then cleaned his throat and stepped further towards Ruby. He had both hands behind his back and an already apparent blush over his cheeks.

“Hm, sir! Respectfully!”

“Respectfully!” The tallest one reinforced. He fiddled with his beret nervously.

“We got madame a gift!”

“Out of respect!” The oldest one reinforced again.

The three eyed Alucard with much apparent nervousness, waiting for his… permission. Ruby looked down at the boys with quiet confusion.

Oh, this was getting funny.

Alucard shrugged and nodded. The three boys smiled again and turned to Ruby. Once again, the shortest cleaned his throat.

“Madame! We were attentively taking care of the horse when we saw something that could suit you!”

“I saw it,” the oldest one elbowed him.

“But it was my idea,” the short one hissed back before turning to her again. “Anyway, hm, here it is!”

Finally, he unveiled what he was hiding behind his back in an extravagant gesture: a lily flower.

Alucard looked behind them. On the other side of the street, under a windowsill, there was a vase full of lilies. He had to cross his arms and lower his head, trying to muffle a laugh.

“It matches your ribbon, madame,” the oldest remarked.

“I was the one to pick it. None of them could reach it but me,” the tallest said with pride.

Ruby watched the three boys with a bit of shock for some seconds.

Then, she smiled.

Not one of her small, timid smiles. For the first time, that smile reached her eyes, too. For the first time, it seemed that she wasn’t embarrassed for smiling; for the first time, her giggle wasn’t dry. Wasn’t clouded by sadness.

Alucard knew that it was the first time he was seeing the real Ruby – the person she was underneath the trauma, the fear, the anxiety; the person she didn’t even know she was yet. And at that moment, the glow of the golden scepter got pale in comparison to her.

Ruby lowered herself to get to their eye level. She took the flower and placed it inside the small pocket of her vest, right above her heart.

“What are your names?” she asked.

“Victor,” the tallest said.

“Pierre,” the oldest one.

“Oliver,” the shortest.

Ruby repeated their names, then patted their heads, rubbing their hair softly.

“This is very sweet, boys. Thank you so much. I promise I’ll take care of your gift.”

It looked like the three boys forgot how to close their mouths. They stared at her in awe, their faces completely red, their three little hearts beating at a rapid pace.

Alucard couldn’t blame them. Not when his own heart missed a beat.

Three hundred years didn’t make him much better than a little boy, after all.

“Ruby.” He called quietly. “We should go.” She nodded and straightened her posture. Alucard turned to the boys, and they all seemed utterly embarrassed when his gaze fell over them. “I wasn’t joking about what I said earlier. Tell your parents about it. After the sun goes down, do not leave your homes.”

The three tensed up at his words, but nodded accordingly. The short one – Oliver – seemed to be the smartest, too; he was the only one that paid attention to Alucard’s mouth and had a fast glimpse of his fangs, which made him get pale. Well… if that helped send the message across, he was fine with it. They finally started walking away.

Ruby waved them goodbye and they waved back, clumsily bumping into each other and elbowing one another. At last, they ran into the crowd again.

A ghost of that smile still lingered on her lips as she turned to him, touching the flower with care. Alucard mimicked her small smile.

“You just made their day.”

She looked shy again, and it made Alucard regret saying that a bit; he didn’t want her to feel embarrassed of herself, not after what he had witnessed. “No, you made their day by paying them.”

Alucard shook his head softly and closed his eyes for a moment.

“It doesn’t even compare.”

He looked down at her again.

This time, instead of the skirt, she gripped the scepter nervously.

Still, Alucard sustained her gaze for a few more seconds. He… enjoyed this. He liked how her attention was frozen on him, even for these brief moments. He liked the sensation of having the world around him blur as if he entered a parallel universe until she’d finally look away.

Alucard knew himself all too well. He didn’t bring himself the trouble of being in denial about anything. It was also one of the things he learned over the years, for the sake of his own sanity.

He understood why the entire mission was becoming personal to him very fast. He understood that, behind his growing anger towards Drolta and Erzsebet, there was something else growing, too – though he wasn’t sure if he’d act on it. No; it was way too early to assume anything. There were still many mysteries to solve, too much at stake, too much trust to be gained on both ends… and way too many traumas to get through, too.

For now, Alucard was satisfied with these small moments of sweetness.

Finally, he took the reins again, and then they were in a crowded street of a city in chaos, and not in a quiet parallel universe.

“Let’s go… madame,” he said jokingly, imitating the honorific the boys repeated over and over again. Ruby chuckled, at least.

Alucard was under the impression that, if Ruby knew what the implications of being called a madame meant, she wouldn’t be so calm about it.

He’d like to keep it as his little secret for now.

[gojos-version]

hii!! :D can you write nsfw oneshot about pervy + nerd!gojo x reader after they had a huge fight?? 😳 pls pls pls ☹☹

Nerdjo pt 2 <3

Pairings- Y/N x Nerd! Satoru Gojo

Word count- 1.7k <3

Proof read- ✅

Warnings- Mating press, Stupid argument, fluff if you squint, doggy style, riding.

A/n- hey guys!! I’ve had some writers block lately but this request helped me come out of it. So thank you so much for your request <3 I've had alot on my plate that delayed me posting this, im so sorry </3 but its been a bit difficult to do anything i want to do lately. Besides being very busy i finally had time to post this. Thank you so much and I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it <3 Nerdjo..save me..Nerdjo..

⋆ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆

“No Satoru, I’ve had enough.” You angrily spit out and walk to your bedroom and shutting the door, sitting behind it as a way to lock it. “W-wait- baby-!” He gasps out, “Please open the door, my love I’m so sorry please let’s talk about it more calmly!” He puts his head on the door trying to hold back his tears from forming.

Maybe you did have enough of your panties being stolen because now you have absolutely none! Anybody would be frustrated that they have no panties ! I mean would want to walk around panty- less???!! Sure, your boyfriend would enjoy it but what if you have to go in public! You sigh in frustration and grumble under your breath.

Satoru felt guilt wash over him, making his throat tighten up and shame for giving into his sexual desires. How could he be so selfish? You're going to leave him for sure. Thoughts were streaming into his head causing him to spiral, his glasses fogging up and his heart thumping against his chest in panic.

He didn’t even realize tears were streaming down his face, but he ignored them sitting in front of the door hearing your breathing that somewhat calmed him down. “You’re not going to… leave me right..?” He says quietly, sniffling softly. You felt your heart shatter a bit, you’d never want that. Ever.

Silently you open the door and peer down at his glossy cheeks and puffy eyes. You felt awful. But that didn’t excuse him from stealing your panties. He did it every day! And your previous panties weren’t returned so each new one you brought was taken by him. It was insanely frustrating but.. maybe you could’ve come about it a different way.

You sigh as you crouch in front of him, his blue puffy eyes boring into yours. “No, I’d never leave you. I just want you to stop taking my panties because I’m out. Again.” You cup his face in your hands, and he nods his head frantically- you're half surprised he didn't get whiplash, “it won’t happen ever again. I’m so sorry. I’ll return them all right now!”

Before he can get up you throw your arms around him in a somewhat hug since he’s still got his knees to his chest, he returns your hug almost instantly- wrapping his arms around you as he shoves his head on your shoulder. “I love you, ‘toru, okay? I’d never leave you. Especially over something stupid like this.” You reassure softly making his grip on you tighten.

“So…. What do you do with my used panties?” You pull back slightly and his entire face turns red. “U-uh..” he stutters out, “Why don’t you show me, hm?” You put a stray hair behind his ear, and he looks like he’s a second away from exploding.

“O-okay.”

Fuck you really shouldn’t have said that. You find yourself folded in half like a lawn chair and Satoru's swollen cock buried deep inside of you to the hilt. He only pulls out until the tip is left just to slam it back inside of you, hitting your sweet spot deliciously.

He’s got his biceps flexing as he has one hand pinning you in the position and well… the other has your soaked panties on his face as he inhales your scent pathetically. “F-fuck- hah-!” He cries out, “‘m sorry baby- I’m so sorry-ooohhh!!” He gasps out rambling mindlessly, his glossed lips in a constant o shape.

You hitch and moan underneath him, your body felt like it was tingling all over like popping candy was in your bloodstream, your sweet spot being hit over and over again. Was this your 3rd orgasm? or your 5th? You’ve lost count and you never would have thought your nerdy boyfriend was so damn filthy. “I-I’m gonna-!” He whimpers out and fuck you're on the brink of squirting all over the both of you. Again. The sheets are soaked beneath you both and it’s been a couple of hours by now all because Satoru's inhaling your sweet little panties.

“Gonna take it for me like a good girl, huh? Yeah?” he babbles, and you nod your head teary eyed from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through you. “A-all y-yours ‘toru-! Angh-!!” Before you know it, you’ve soaked your thighs, tummy, his thighs and abdomen. Your eyes roll back, and you feel like you’re on fire, your toes curling deliriously while your eyes roll back and shut. You swear you see the white pearly gates for a good moment. You sob under him and shake as you pathetically grip onto him for some stability.

He pants above you and flips you over. “Wha-more-?” You whimper out and you get your answer as he sinks his swollen cock into you, and he’s balls deep into you again. You grip the pillow beneath you as your walls clench and spasm around his hard, thick cock. He pulls your head up by your hair and shoves your panties in your mouth, “im-sorry- fuck- you wanted me to show you- what I do and-hah- think about-shit-!” Fuck. You think you’re about to pass out at this point. It felt like his cock was ripping your insides apart, you could just feel him. Nothing else. Nothing mattered except the two of you. All you could do was just sit there and take it. “A-and if I..go a bit deeper..and t-thrust up-! I’ll hit your-hah- g spot- again-!” He gurgles into your ear and squeezes your ass cheeks apart to get a better look at his cock in your sweet cunt.

“Shiiiiittt” He whimpers out, thrusting his cock up in need and he fucking laughs when your back arches deeper and you let out a muffled scream. “Found it.” He presses his chest onto your back and wraps his lets arm around your stomach pressing against the lewd bulge in your stomach and his free hand pinches your clit. “hah-! I’m sorry- I’m sorry- im shoorrrrrryyyyy!!” He cries out, “You- wanted this as much as I do- please- please! Please! Anngffhhhh!!” Fuck you couldn’t even find any strength to let out a hum in acknowledgment.

You felt pleasure in so much different places, and you didn’t have anywhere to run. Your clit, his cock deep into you, his arm squishing the bulge in your stomach- fuck it was all too much- your panties in your mouth and your head shoved in the pillow-your body felt half unconscious, but the pleasure was 0h so good and addictive you didn’t want it to stop.

Never in a million years would you have thought your nerdy boyfriend who rambles to you about Digimon or the one that lets you cock warm him while he helps you study or have soft vanilla sex would ever be this filthy. But who were you to complain when you’ve come about God knows how much. 7? 8? At this point your brain felt fuzzy and your body felt every single bit of pleasure coursing through your veins, head to toe like lightning flashing through the sky, the pleasure you were feeling was flashing through your veins deep and sharp. “Baby- love you- love you so much- don’t wanna ever make you upset at me ever again- please- hah- forgive me- please-“ He whimpers and the last thing you feel is his cock releasing thick spurts of cum deep in your womb, and you can barely process it before you’re joining his high and squeezing his cock like you walls wanted to strangle it.

Once your highs are ridden out, he slips his now soft cock out of you and flips you over softly. He takes your panties out of your mouth and presses kisses all over your face, jaw, neck and shoulders. “Are you still with me?” you hazily blink your eyes and adjust to your white-haired boyfriend pressing kisses all over you making a smile tug at your lips. Without saying anything you bring his lips to yours and kiss him softly making him moan softly into the kiss. You push him down with his back against the mattress and he looks up at you with confusion, “You still have energy?” You smirk and take his fogged-up glasses off his face, grinding your soaked pussy against his half hard cock.

You wipe his glasses clean and put them on his face softly, “Now you can see me ruin you this time.” A red blush decorates his cheeks, and he gasps out a breathy moan as you sink onto his once again hard cock, both of your bodies riddled with sweat and sore from your previous intercourse.

His hands find home on your hips as you start bouncing on his cock, slamming your hips down with a lewd wet noise with each slam of your hips, picking up your pace faster; internally smug at how his eyes roll back and shut. You study his body a bit. The way his toes curl and grip at the sheets bellow the both of you, the way his biceps flex and grip your hips like you’re the only thing keeping him sane, the way his abdomen clenches and the way he moans loudly not afraid to show you how good you make him feel.

In reality, Satoru wasn’t keeping it cool at all. He felt like he was going to explode. Incinerate. Into a million pieces. He got nervous whenever he was close to you and now?? He had no choice but to stare into your eyes and he felt so squeamish. His heart going a million miles per hour, honestly... he could handle it before. But whenever you’re on top and staring into his gorgeous blue eyes he can’t handle it. It’s like the first time you both ever met again. His heart flutters at the thought but he’s pulled out of his thoughts when his eyes blink up to focus on you. Fuck your perfect tits bouncing, your ass jiggling from the sheer force of your hips against his. How did you have any stamina left?

You giggle at his unusual quietness and lean down to kiss him, whimpering into his mouth as the two of you kiss harshly, getting messier and messier. Before the both of you knew it you were cumming all over his cock again, squeezing him so tight and he’s filling you up for the nth time tonight. You pull your lips away from his, rocking your hips against his softly. “So, baby, tell me about that new Digimon card you got.” His eyes light up and you softly bounce your hips onto his while he rambles about the amazing new card he scored.

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[yeoslattes]

Lowkey

Genre: smut

Wc: 7.6k

Pairings: bodyguard!Yunho, rich girl college student!reader, chauffeur!Mingi

Summary: Yunho desperately needs someone to put you in your place

Warnings: smut, threesome, dom/sub themes, late 20s Yunho/Mingi, early to mid twenties reader, mild dumbification, Yunho is lowkey patronizing, fingering, oral both fem and male receiving, orgasm denial, ruined orgasm, cream pie, cum shots, clothed sex, backshots, mild choking, use of pet names (doll, slut, tiny), mentions of size difference, spoiled reader, no use of YN, unprotected sex, alcohol use, reader is a party girl

A/N: my Yungi fic is finally out!!! I had so much fun writing this! While I edited I realized how Yunho goes from really shy to suddenly getting fed up and wanting to put her in her place (character development 😭). Also Mingi is really mostly a side character here, most of the readers interactions are with Yunho but don’t fret I have stuff planned for Mingi in the future. I hope you guys enjoy and ofc any feedback is appreciated just be nice about it🫶🏼

The sun beams through your sheer curtains smacking you right in the face. Your tired warm body is snuggled under the cream white fluffy duvets that your mom had purchased for you in Italy. Cracking an eye open you stretch your limbs and groan softly, sitting up on the bed. A shiver shakes through you, the AC causing goosebumps to erupt on your soft skin.

With only one class in your schedule for today you took on the task of getting ready for university. Fashion was an art to you, it was a sole representation of who you were and how you liked to express yourself. And what exactly was that self expression? Well, clothes from the most expensive designers of course. Your parents owned one of the top marketing companies in all of New York and were currently in the works of expanding worldwide, to say you got everything and anything you wanted was an understatement; the fact that you were an only child only ever added to just how much your parents spoiled you.

“Darling! Yunho is up front waiting for you, don’t be late, traffic in the city is only going to get worse.” Your mother’s voice reverberates through the tall walls of the grand mansion.

“I'll be on my way soon!” You respond back, quickly spraying your sweet perfume and heading downstairs. You may have been perfect in your parent’s eyes, or maybe they just liked to act oblivious but behind that perfect daughter act you put up was something more. You loved to shop till you dropped, that was a known fact but what many didn’t know was the absolute party animal you had developed into over the course of your college career. 

There wasn’t a club in New York that you hadn’t graced with your presence. Even when you traveled outside the country for an already expensive vacation, you'd still find a way to get into the most renowned clubs wherever you were on the map. You’d always come up with an excuse to go out, perhaps an important dinner, or sometimes a friend of a friend’s birthday party; your parents would always believe you. Your friends were no saints either, rolling in money themselves they were always there to join you in any escapade you had. You were living the ultimate college student life and no one was ever there to say no to you. 

You adjust your bag on your shoulder and slide into the sleek black Escalade. Yunho sits on his phone in the driver’s seat, immediately dropping the device into the cup holder when he hears you settle into the back.

“Good morning Yuyu.” You beam, “good morning miss,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, he sends you a smile through the rear view mirror which you return. Yunho’s heart flutters slightly as he steals glances of you. Your fingers type away on your phone, updating your friends with the latest gossip you have. Yunho’s gaze keeps flicking to you in the mirror, his admiration suddenly turning into pure irritation at the constant ticking of your phone’s keyboard. He’s so annoyed he almost misses the turn to your best friend's house. He slams on the breaks, sending you flying into the back of the passenger seat. You groan loudly while holding your forehead.

“What the fuck Yunho, ugh.” You exclaim tossing your phone on the seat. “Can you be more careful?” His gaze hardens as he peers at you through the mirror for the umpteenth time this morning. He gulps and sucks in a deep breath. Your voice only adding to his irritation. “Don’t forget to pick up Cassie and Yeri.” You say typing away on your phone again. Yunho can only sit in silence, his mind going to the fat paycheck he’d get at the end of this week for driving a CEO’s daughter around. You were such a joy to drive except when you weren’t, but he’d endure anything if it meant he got to work for you; his boy crush only growing by the day.

He’d been picking up your little group of friends every morning since you started your freshman year at NYU, while also driving you around town and picking you up from clubs while being drunk off your mind. It was taking a toll on him, he rarely got any sleep before he had to be up at the ass crack of dawn again, but the pay was good so maybe that’s why he didn’t mind it as much. At least that’s what he liked to tell himself whenever he felt his feelings for you bubbling up. “My daughter is off limits. I trust you understand that right?” He vividly remembers your father saying as he signed the contract. He’d been employed by your dad right before you started college, you had ended up totaling your first car, and with your father’s company status on the rise he decided it’d be best to keep you safe by hiring a chauffeur. You were now halfway through your 3rd year of college with Yunho still as your driver. 

He didn’t talk much but when he did he would only ever say the most encouraging things. After you had been stood up on a date you had cried your eyes out in the car, it had upset him seeing you that way so on the ride back home he pulled over and gave you a pep talk of just how much you deserved; since then you had grown fond of him. But it was only ever friendly, until recently. He was tall and extremely handsome, always looking better when you had too many drinks for your own good as he hauled you out of an A list New York club. While he had his good moments with you, there were times where you grinded his gears, like this morning’s drive to school or when you were too “tired” to carry all your shopping bags and just shoved them in his hands without saying please or thank you. As smitten as he was with you, you were his boss’ daughter and that was a zone he did not want to enter.

As he pulls up close to the curb in front of the main area of campus, he sits in silence like always and listens to the loud chatter between you and your friends.

“Alright girlies! Shopping after school? Let's meet up here, Yunho will be driving us!” You say loudly smacking your peppermint gum, your girlfriends all speak loudly, agreeing between giggles. You were the last one to step out of the black Escalade, “bye Yuyu see you soon mwah!” You blow him a kiss and he smiles at you, only shaking his head with a breathy laugh after the door closes.

With a couple of hours of free time, Yunho decides to kill time at a nearby coffee shop, the tired chauffeur sits in the corner of the rather empty cafe. His face lights up mid sip when Mingi walks in. He greets his long time friend, the equally tall man sitting adjacent to him.

“Man, it's like I barely see you nowadays.” Mingi sighs, relaxing into the chair. Yunho checks his watch, your class was short and he’d be expecting a text in about an hour.

“Yea…work is work. It's been kicking my ass recently.” He groans, “do you at least get a vacation?” Mingi asks curiously, Yunho shrugs, “Maybe I would if I asked for it, but I’m trying to rack up at least 3 more checks before I take time off. Besides, taking care of the SMB Enterprises future successor isn’t so bad; she has her bad days but her and her friends make it worth a while.” Mingi chuckles at his friend, “ah really? How so?” Yunho shrugs yet again, “lets just say free reality TV but in person.” Mingi playfully scoffs, his hand coming up to run through his hair. However, there was something more that Yunho wasn’t saying, being friends since childhood had its perks as he knew Yunho better than anyone else and could read him like a book..

“There’s something more though that makes it worth your while right?” Mingi asks curiously and Yunho’s cheeks flush red. Mingi nods trying to suppress a smile, “you like her.” Yunho mentally curses, he chuckles nervously and shakes his head. “Well yes…but I could never. Her father would have my head; I have to keep things strictly professional.”

While Yunho said one thing, Mingi would be thinking the opposite. He was a carefree soul, he didn’t care about anything, “you should-” he starts but Yunho cuts him off, “I can’t that’d be violating my contract.”

The pair talked for a few hours just until around the time your class ended. Yunho is about to check his phone when he sees you walking through the cafe doors, his brows shoot up in confusion, awkwardness filling him when you suddenly walk up to the table he and Mingi were sitting at.

“Oh I'm so sorry, I didn’t know you'd be out 30 minutes early.” He says swallowing thickly and standing up. He could only hope you wouldn’t tell your dad about his cafe date with Mingi. 

“Yea my professor let us out a bit early and I wanted a coffee.” You say, texting away on your phone yet again, Yunho suppresses an eyeroll. “But don’t worry I wont tell daddy about your little…date.” You say taking a peek at Mingi. He sends you a tight lipped smile. “Okay well, are you ready to go miss?” You shake your head. “Mm mm, I gotta wait for Cassie and Yeri, and after can you take us to Soho? I need to pick up a few things.” Yunho nods, “for sure. I’ll go bring the car.” You take his seat, not sparing a glance at Mingi, who still remains in his spot after waving goodbye to Yunho.

“So…” he starts, 

“Not interested.” Sending him a smile, you walk over to grab your coffee from the mobile order area, “See you around! Yunho’s friend.” You shout walking out of the cafe. Mingi sits back dumbfounded, “unbelievable that he fell for a bitch.” He mutters silently.

***

You had over 5 bags up to the brim with the latest fashion trends. You were sure you’d bought at least one mini dress for every weekend of the month. Your feet ached and you were drained from carrying the bags all through the streets of Soho. Yunho remained inside the car, parked in the designated parking area waiting for your text. 

You step out of Neiman Marcus and wait for your ride to pull up in front of the doors. When your driver sees you struggling to the car he immediately hops out to put your and your friend’s bags all in the trunk.

“Good shopping day miss?” He asks, and you nod, stretching your back deliciously against the leather seats of the Escalade once you’re finally inside. The rest of the ride is abnormally quiet, even Cassie and Yeri lay against the headrests with their eyes closed, the day's exhaustion catching up to you three. Before you know it Yunho is pulling up the long curved driveway, stopping right in front of your front doors.

“Thank you for driving us around today Yunho, I know it can be a bit much.” You sheepishly thank him, a soft blush covering your cheeks. “Of course miss, I’m only doing my job.” He gives you a smile and you retreat into your house with him following close behind. This was one of those moments where he absolutely adored you.

***

Friday morning something shifts when your father calls you into his office. You stand barefoot, sporting sleeping shorts and an oversized t-shirt, feeling slightly awkward as Yunho is also standing there. You can feel him eyeing you, clearly not used to seeing you in your lounging attire.

“Darling, due to current articles and the uprising of the company I have decided to promote Yunho to your bodyguard.” Your father says, his hands resting politely atop of his desk. You can't help but stare at him dumbfounded, it was the calm before the storm. Yunho could see your gears turning, he could almost calculate when your outburst was going to happen.

“What do you mean you’re assigning me a bodyguard? Absolutely not! I do not need a babysitter.” Your father’s demeanor changes. 

“I will not tolerate your attitude.” He says raising his hand up.

“But dad, I am in college! Actually, I'm about to graduate college. I don’t need someone to look after me!” You state, close to stomping your feet in a tantrum.

“It’s not that you need it dear, it's just for safety precautions. SMD is gaining popularity and I cannot have you walking around without any protection.” He reiterates. You look at Yunho and he can only look down at his feet. “But why him?” At your words his head pops up to look in your direction, his eyes gleaming with mild offense.  

“Why not Yunho? He’s perfect for the role. He’s worked with us for 3 years now, knows all your friends and is very familiar with your lifestyle.” Your father defends. 

“Well yes but I like him as my chauffeur…I am not here for this dad.” You argue, pointing aggressively at him as you try to prove your point.

“I hired a new chauffeur, per Yunho’s recommendation. He will be here tonight for whatever dinner you have going on this time.” Immediately you knew who he was talking about. 

“That loser from the coffee shop!?” You say looking at Yunho this time. Your father brings a hand up to massage his temples, Yunho is about to respond but is cut off.

“Yunho is your bodyguard, and Mingi is your new driver. So either put up with it or stay home tonight. End of discussion!” 

You pressed your lips shut, suddenly feeling defeated by your father. You knew discussing the matter further with him was a lost cause, there was no budging him when he set his mind on something. Finally you drop your head in defeat and nod. “Now go, I have to finish some work here. Yunho my apologies for that, you are dismissed.”

You spent the rest of your afternoon laying in bed just staring at the ceiling, then scrolling on your phone and switching between apps. Nightfall approaches and it's time to get ready for a night in the city. You start with a long shower, exfoliating, shaving and moisturizing. You pick a dress from the countless different ones you’d bought earlier in the week. Delicately pulling the tag off, you slip it on. Your phone startles you as it vibrates aggressively on your vanity table, blindly you answer and are met with Cassie’s face.

“I love you but you have to hurry, our VIP reservation is at 11.” Cassie urges, you nod at her through the camera. “Yes yes I'll be there soon, there were new arrangements made today. I’ll tell you all about it.” You hang up the phone and hurry down, where Yunho waits for you by the door. You don't notice the way his eyes rake over your frame and he suppresses a little smirk. He opens the car door for you and when you slip onto the leather seats you are met by the same guy from the cafe. You’ve got to be kidding me, you think to yourself. He’s dressed in a suit just like Yunho, he doesn't say anything else besides a small hello. You only watch the way he smirks at Yunho when he slips into the passenger seat. A smirk that makes you wonder if you had been a topic of discussion between them. The car ride is silent and soon you are pulling into the valet of the night club.

“Mingi right?” Your voice breaks the silence and he nods, “nice to meet you miss. I look forward to tending to whatever you need.” Mingi replies and you almost roll your eyes at the automated response. 

“Nice to meet you once again Mingi, welcome to your first day on the job.” You scoff hopping out of the car, the entire debacle between you and your father clearly still filling you up with annoyance.

***

The night starts off slow, you sip on a cocktail while Cassie leans into your ear. “So who's the new one?” Your eyes shift to Mingi who stands next to Yunho, his big hands crossed at his pelvis. He sports a dark pair of shades making it impossible to see where he was looking, yet you can sense his gaze is on you and your best friend.

“Mingi, he’s friends with Yunho. My dad decided that I suddenly needed a bodyguard and promoted Yunho, then hired Mingi per Yunho’s recommendation.” You mock your father’s tone. 

“Hmm,” she hums, her teeth digging into her glossy lips, “can I have one?” Looking over to Mingi, you can see his attention is now fully on Cassie despite the dark lenses covering his irises. She waves at him and he sends her a smile. Your friend almost melts into the couch at the subtle advances of your driver.

 “No.” Your voice is flat, “I fear they’re both mine.” You joke, except you're not sure how much of it is a joke. The more the alcohol kicks in, the more appealing the pair looks to you.

Your party of friends grows bigger by the hour and more regular club goers fill the space, the bass of the music pounds on your chest, it’s not long before you start feeling the slight fogginess of the alcohol clouding your judgement. Shot after shot kept coming, bottles of the most expensive liquor being served to your table. You’re up now dancing freely with your friends, Yunho standing within close proximity, he’s had to stabilize you on your feet twice now. He points to his watch when Mingi looks at him. “We have to bring her home in about an hour. Her dad’s rules.” He informs his counterpart through their ear piece. Time flew by and by the time that hour hits its 3 a.m.

Yunho sucks in a deep breath and leans down to your level. “It’s time to go.” He says loudly, and you shake your head, “it’s only 3 Yuyu. I don’t wanna go.” You pout holding your stance. It’d only get more difficult from this point on, “I understand that miss but your father’s rules were clear.” You ignore his words and try to tread through the crowd but a heavy hand pulls you back. 

“Stop it!” you say twisting your arm from his grip, “I don’t wanna go! You two and my dad can go kiss my ass!” Yunho sent a nod to Mingi. Suddenly your feet are no longer on the ground. Mingi clears up space as Yunho walks with you over his shoulder through the crowd. His large hand holds the bottom of your dress down. Your small fists pound on his back, as you try to flail yourself all over the place.

“Put me down Yunho!” But your bodyguard refuses. Back in valet Yunho waits for the car, while apologetically smiling at a few other employees as you yell every profanity under the sun. Mingi stands beside Yunho and you manage to catch the edge of his sunglasses with your fist, smacking them off his face and scratching him in the process. Mingi winces, holding the raised skin of his face as he picks up his glasses. Yunho shoves you in the car and soon you’re all on your merry way home with you passed out in the backseat.

“I’m regretting this job.” Mingi mutters, running his finger over the scratch on his face. “She’s usually not like this, I guess daddy’s new rules are getting to her.” Yunho responds, sending a pitied look to his best friend. “Usually?” Mingi asks, shaking his head in annoyance.

***

“Mom, did dad give me a curfew?” You ask your mother the next morning, you did your best to ignore the pounding in your head. You can see her eyes shift as she tries to put up a front.

“No baby, what do you mean? Or at least I don’t know of any curfew.” She replies, folding her laundry neatly.

“Because last night that I was out with my friends…at the dinner I told you about. I left at a specific time and that's not how Yunho and I usually operate.” With crossed arms you stare at your mother waiting for whatever excuse she’s come up with. 

Instead she gives you a pointed look, “and how do you usually operate?” She smirks, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Uh, I let him know when I'm ready to go.” You state as if it were an obvious fact. Your words hang in the air and she shrugs.

“I’d ask your father directly honey, I wouldn't know.” You huff in annoyance and head back to your room to freshen up and dispute this with your father.

The door to his office echoes loudly when you swing it open, startling Mingi and Yunho who currently sit in the seats facing the desk.

“Pumpkin I'm discussing busine-”

“Did you give me a curfew?” You ask cutting him off. Your father sighs in defeat, he knew that you’d come to him with questions sooner or later.

“Not necessarily a curfew hon, just a set time to have you home.”

“That’s literally the definition of a curfew! Dad, what is going on? Are you trying to ruin my life?” Your father, clearly on the edge already, is having none of it.

“Is 3 a.m not enough for your clubbing activities?” Your eyes suddenly widen at your fathers words. How'd he know? Then your eyes shift to Yunho who now stands besides Mingi against the wall. Both men stoic in the face as if the entire debacle isn’t going on in front of them. 

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You keep telling your mom and I that you are going out to important dinners, come to find out you're out at clubs getting absolutely wasted with those trashy friends of yours.” You shake your head, “You don’t underst-”

“What I don’t understand is why my daughter is acting like this. Look at the gash you gave Mingi last night, all because he wanted to ensure your safety back home and you just can’t help but act a fool! Do what you like, you are an adult, but under my house you’ll be home when I say!” He yells, his voice booming through the office.

“But-” You try to argue, and he shakes his head.

“Don't you get it? With our status you cannot be acting like this; it’ll end up in the tabloids and what does that mean for SMD?” Your father searches your face for some type of answer, but you hide by crossing your arms and looking down at the wooden floor.

“You swipe my Amex like it's nothing, you buy what you want, you go where you want, what more do you want? So no, the curfew isn't going anywhere. End of discussion. Now please leave so I can finish business.” Your words are caught in your throat. 

You stare at your father before your eyes shift to the two men dressed in black on the side, Yunho sporting a very sly smirk as he watches your eyes sparkle with tears. He was enjoying this little meltdown, he enjoyed the fact that someone had finally said no; after all you were a spoiled brat and while he loved that about you, it was time for a reality check. You stomp out of the office slamming the mahogany door behind you causing you father to flinch and apologize to the pair.

“Don’t have daughters.” Your father sighs.

***

The next week you spent going to your scheduled classes and swimming. The weekend had been the opposite of relaxing between your fathers argument and the raging hangover, you decided to reconnect with nature, touch some grass if you will. Every single time, Yunho was out there with you, and there was nothing he could do about the skanky bikinis you sported every time you sat out in the sun. In his head he cursed Mingi for being able to take a break, after all he was your only real bodyguard. 

He sat in a chair in the shade, his eyes drinking in every area of uncovered skin behind his sunglasses. His mind went places and he couldn't help but readjust himself multiple times. Your demeanor with him had also changed, you were more talkative than before, asking him about himself, offering him lemonade made with your own secret recipe. You were sweet talking him and he knew it was your way of trying to get him to break the rules for you next time you went out. But if there was one thing about Yunho it was that he wasn't a people pleaser, and he wasn't one to give in easily especially not to brats like you. 

The week flew by for him and like usual, here he was on his way with you and Mingi to another top club in New York city. You were dressed in a two piece set this time, the skirt so short your underwear peeked through every time you sat down. With wandering eyes everywhere, in order to shield you Yunho’s big frame stood in front of you. He takes your hand and you smile up at him with big eyes, but he averts his focus to his job at hand which was protecting you.

***

By midnight you're drunk out of your mind, so drunk that you ended up booking a hotel room in the building where the said club was at. You told yourself you deserved to get wasted and spoil yourself in a luxurious hotel after the hell week you’d had.

“I-i don’t wanna go home, just take me up to my room whenever. I forwarded you the reservation email.” You told Yunho. It wouldn’t align with your father’s rules but Yunho was sure you'd twist up some pretty lie to get out of being asked too many questions. “Tell my parents I'm crashing at Cassie’s.” Yunho could only agree, because what else could he do in this situation? Would it put his job in jeopardy? Yes, was he annoyed with you? Also yes, but he'd rather deal with your father later than have you cause another scene for him and Mingi yet again.

“One more drink Yuyu please?” You ask, your eyes big and glassy as you stare up at him. He shakes his head, “I don’t think it's a good idea to keep drinking miss. At least take a break.” He suggests, your lips form a pout but you were too tired to fight him. Eventually you manage to slip through the crowd and to the bar. Mingi and Yunho search for you but their panic is short lived when you reappear with another martini in hand.

“Do you want some?” You ask, there you go again with that suggestive gaze that has him reeling. He shakes his head and as you're about to take another sip he pulls the glass away from you. “I said no more.” You pout at his harsh tone. 

“Fine, take me to the bathroom then.” You say crossing your arms. Yunho sighs internally, deciding that having you use the restroom alone was too risky he convinces Cassie to take you. The blonde holds on to your arm as Yunho clears space for you to walk through. He stands outside the door and motions Cassie to bring you in.

Yunho waits outside for what feels like an eternity; after 20 minutes he knocks on the door. Cassie opens and without a word pulls him in. “what-” but Cassie shakes her head, “she threw up about half of the drinks she drank. I fed her some water, she should be sobering up.” You sit against the wall of the fancy bathroom with your eyes closed. You feel a hand going around your bicep to hoist you up and you shake your head.

“Don’t move me, I’d rather wait it out here. Just get me some water please.” Not daring to have your eyes obliterated by the harsh light you keep them closed. You hear the bathroom door open, letting the noise of the club in for a second before it muffles out again.

A full bottle and a half of water later, you had sobered up almost entirely. You rinse your mouth in the sink and pat some cold water on your chest to freshen up and head back out where Yunho stands.

You walk through the crowd heading straight for the bar, ready for at least another round of drinks but Yunho pulls you back. “No more drinks.” He states flatly. Your brows draw together, sending him a confused look. “Um, who says I can’t? Cause as far as I can remember you’re just my bodyguard not my dad.” Now you have taken it upon yourself to mess with him. You were tired of being bossed around. Your eyes bore into his, his gaze has shifted in a way you had never seen before; he was pissed. Sucking in a deep breath he leans down to your ear, “you are done for the night.” You swallow thickly and shrug trying to play off the sudden ache in the bottom half of your body. You take the lead, both men following close behind you.

Despite sobering up, the exhaustion after drinking is catching up to you and the little alcohol you have left in your system still keeps you a bit unstable on your feet. The elevator ride up to the room is tension filled. You can feel both men’s gazes on you, and out of the corner of your eye you see the way Yunho and Mingi exchange glances.

As soon as you step through the door Yunho breaks the silence, “I need you to sit down and drink some water.” Taking the water bottle from his grip, you sit down purposefully taking small sips. Both men watch you carefully, pulling their blazers off and draping them over a chair, leaving them both in their white button ups.

“I don’t really want any more water.” Your hoarse voice says, pushing the bottle away from you. You go to stand up but Yunho stops you.

“Sit the fuck down.” He points at the seat as soon as you rise to your feet.

“Excu-”

“Now.” You plop back down on the soft chair in defeat. 

“You’ve been a real fucking pain the ass you know that right?” At that you giggle, biting your lip a little too hard at his frustration.

“She thinks it's funny Min.” A low hum rumbles through Mingi’s chest.

“Do you want me to blow you as a thank you for being the best bodyguard ever and putting up with me? Because I will.” Your body is now burning hot, just the mere thought of Yunho having you on your knees in front of his best friend who is also your chauffeur excites you. You slowly rise to your feet, stepping carefully towards Yunho as if testing the waters. Your bare feet on the carpet showcasing the sheer size difference between you and the dark blue haired man. Without second thought his hands cup your face and pull you into him for a kiss. Everything goes fast, your hands grip his wrists as he still has a hold of your face as he kisses you with pure fervor.

“Fucking brat.” Yunho pulls you away and redirects you towards Mingi who is now standing by the bed. Your arms stretch out to reach for the Mingi, he pulls you into him and you meet his lips as Yunho manhandles your skirt. Mingi wastes no time laying you down, the skirt of your two piece set now resting on your waist from the vigorous movement, your panty clad cunt on full display. Yunho presses you down into bed by your chest, his opposite hand coming down to play with you. His fingers rub over the fabric of your now soiled underwear. 

“Such a good girl huh Yunho?” Mingi says chuckling at your writhing form. Yunho smirks,

“Sit behind her, why don't you.” Yunho pulls you up and Mingi slots himself between you and the plush pillows, your back now resting flush against his chest. His arms encircle themselves around your waist as Yunho tugs your panties down. He holds the fabric up by his finger, “We’ve been getting peeks of this slutty thong all night, how cute.” Yunho chuckles.

His fingers toys with you before slipping two slender digits inside. Immediately your back arches against your chauffeur’s chest, his grip only tightening on you. His eyes are focused on his fingers splitting you open, his hand coming down to rest right above your pelvis. He starts with languid strokes, and the way you only spread your legs further for him eggs him on to pick up speed.

“Look at you, spreading your legs open like a slut.” There’s a condescending look on Yunho’s face when he speaks to you. The veins on his arms slightly bulged out from the excretion. You could only whine and attempt to buck your hips on his fingers. Between the haze of the alcohol and the duo's cologne invading your senses you feel yourself spiraling. A knot forming in the pit of your tummy builds up fast. Your lower body begins to shake as your legs threaten to close, that's when Mingi reaches for one of your legs and he hooks his hand behind your knee pulling you open for Yunho.

“Open up pretty.” He murmurs in your ear.

“Im gon-na, Yuyu.” You squirm in Mingi’s grip, your whines picking up in volume. You can barely keep your eyes open and then your orgasm hits you. Your body shudders heavily under the two men. Yunho sends you encouraging words as you cum all over his fingers. Mingi leans down to press feathered kisses on your cheek, his lips inching slowly towards your now messy glossy lips. He kisses you hard, his hand unhooking from your leg and coming down hard against your pussy. Your whole body jolts at the action you can only cry out and take what they give you.

“Come here baby,” Yunho says, pulling you up swiftly. Your legs are shaky as you stand close to him, his hands on your face again, this time you lean to kiss him, glossy lips working desperately against his. But Yunho wasn’t about to let you do what you wanted, not this time. He pulls away, his large hand wrapping around your throat as he squeezes lightly, only enough to take your breath away momentarily.

“Watch it slut, you want something you have to work for it.” He spits, backing you into Mingi. “Who goes first? Me or you?” The driver chuckles and pulls your arms behind your back bending you into the bed. “I’ll break her in for you, how about that?” Yunho smiles at him, “don't let her cum. Tiny has to learn to work for things, she can’t just swipe daddy’s Amex here.” Yunho mocks.

You climb onto the bed face down, ass up, with your hands resting behind your back. Mingi’s belt buckle resonates loudly in the room, echoing in the haze of your brain. Yunho suddenly comes into your line of vision, his pants also unbuckled.

“Are you ready baby?” He asks, feigning a pout at the tears lining your eyes. You lift your head, your hands coming to support you as you push yourself up. You nod vigorously,

“Please Yuyu, I want it so bad.” You whine. Yunho shakes his head and points at Mingi, “why don’t you ask Mingi nicely baby.”

You pant softly and crane your neck to look at the man behind you. “Please Mingi, I want it so bad.” Your hips wiggle back towards him. Mingi’s mushroom tip prods at your entrance

“You want it?” he teases and you nod, taking your lip between your teeth, his large hands grip your waist as he gently pushes in. His girth alone splitting you open slowly. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, at the intrusion.

“Hands behind your back girlie.” Yunho whispers, your arms reach back and Mingi holds on to them as he pulls you onto him, his entire length buried in you. His warm skin comes in contact with your ass and suddenly he’s set a delicious pace that has you reeling. Your breath gets caught in your throat and you're sure you've now gone dumb. Yunho is talking to you but you can barely hear him, until he taps your cheek, his hand cupping your chin and gently lifting your face up. His leaking tip pokes your lips, you open your mouth, wide eyes looking up at him. Yunho bites lip, his hands caressing your face.

“Good fucking girl baby.” You hum around his cock and he gently moves further in until he hits the back of your throat. You gag slightly, tears now rolling down your cheeks freely.

“Being used from both ends, baby. Look at you.” Mingi moans, his thrust now becoming erratic, he eventually resorts to barely pulling out, his hips jutting hard against you just bullying his tip against your cervix. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your orgasm fast approaching. Yunho takes notice of the way, you're going limp on the bed, your whole body twitching.

“She's about to cum, don't let her finish. She doesn't deserve it yet Min.” He grunts, pulling out of your mouth and cupping your chin once again. He watches with an amused smile as Mingi struggles to slow down and pull out, just as you're about to fall over the brink it all stops. Your tired body collapses on the bed, writhing in discomfort at your fading high.

“Yun-ho, please.” You whine, rubbing your legs together.

“I'm pretty sure I gave myself blue balls man,” Mingi shudders, his hand running up and down his cock, trying to keep the stimulation going. Yunho ignores his friend's comment and takes his place instead, he looms over you now. He pulls you on your back, tugging on the top you still wore, which was now soiled with spit and tears. He tugs at the stretchy material until it sits comfortably under your chest. Your tits spilling over, nipples perky and waiting for attention. He toys with your tits, fondling them and laying a flat smack that irritates the skin. You're panting like a dog, legs open waiting for him to do whatever he wanted to you. 

“Are you ready to work for it?” He asks, once again in a condescending tone. You nod, your hands reaching around the bed feeling for Mingi. Yunho leans down pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips, his tongue swipes over your lip, your mouth drops open as he slips inside, instantly buried to the hilt. He gives you one last kiss and pulls away, instantly setting a brutal pace. Pleasure spreads all over your abdomen, as his cock hits that spongy spot deep within you. You're a moaning mess, legs trying to cage him in and hips lifting to meet him but he doesn't let you.

“You're acting like a bitch in heat baby, you wanna cum?” He asks, and you nod, letting out a strangled cry. “Ye-yes yuyu please.” Mingi’s hand works heavy on his cock, trying to match the grip your cunt had around him.

“I said work for it, remember? So why don’t you be a doll and help Mingi.” He motions over to the man beside your head. You do the best you can to replace his hand, your pace is shaky, barely consistent, he leans a bit closer and you are able to get his red tip in your mouth. His hand coming down to cup the back of your head, helping you lift up without causing much strain. Mingi lowers his hips, lodging himself deeper in your mouth. You can barely focus anymore, your headspace far from reality. 

“She's going dumb look at her,” Yunho grunts, Mingi breathes heavily above you. And you suck gently and somehow that's enough to push him over the edge. His cum spills into your mouth at the same time your high is building up. You pull from him, his tip still leaking, now spilling all over your lips and chin. Yunho hold your hips and your hands come down to grip his forearms as he fucks you into the bed. 

“You earned it tiny, go ahead and fucking c-cum.” Yunho strangles out, your orgasm builds up until you're falling over the edge. Your body locks up, legs shaking as you ride your high, loud whines falling from your lips. You relax into the bed and Yunho who ruts against you suddenly stills and spills into your gummy walls. He sucks in a deep breath as the pulsing in his cock comes to a slow halt. He pulls out and his seed is spilling out from you, running down between your lips and onto the bed creating a wet patch.

Your eyes are closed, lungs still trying to suck in air from the heavy exertion. You feel yourself getting moved around, a warm towel wiping your face and then between your legs. Someone pulls you out of the matching set that was still bunched around your waist. 

You feel a tap on your cheek and you open your eyes to be met by Mingi and a water bottle. “Here's some water doll.” You sit up and gently sip from the bottle, humming at the cool liquid running down your scratched throat. Yunho slips on the white button he sported on you. Mingi looks at him as he puts the blazer back on.

“I’ll stop somewhere for a button up in the morning.” Yunho says when he feels Mingi’s judgemental gaze on him. “Get some rest doll, Mingi and I will be back for you in the morning.” you pout as they tuck you into the plush bed. “You can't stay?” You ask but you knew the answer. Yunho shakes his head, “gotta report that you are safe. It'll also look suspicious if we stay, you know you got eyes on you everywhere now.” You nod and nuzzle into the bed. 

The door clicks softly behind them as they walk towards the elevators. “I can tell she really likes you.” Mingi informs his best friend. Yunho shrugs, “That's rocky territory, I couldn't imagine what her father would do if he ever found out.” In a way it hurt his chest the thought of never seeing you again if your father found out. After pining over you for the past 3 years in secrecy, and it coming down to tonight's activities he was happy, but it was also bittersweet that nothing further than this could ever happen; he could never call you fully his out of fear.

Yunho rests against the elevator wall, anxiety creeping up on him at the thought of trying to play this all off in the future. He avoids the front desk personnel’s gaze as she gives him a questioning look on his attire as his bare chest peeked through the expensive blazer. When they're both back in the car he reports to your father through text that you'd insisted on crashing at Cassie’s place and that they’d be back for you early in the morning.

***

The following weeks were a blur at least for Yunho, he couldn't concentrate on anything other than you, all he ever saw was you. He caught himself admiring more than ever before; so much so Mingi had to often snap him back to reality. Aside from that, there was nothing he could do besides stay quiet and do his job. He had Mingi to vent to but that ended when the man resigned after he got a job opportunity as a producer. He was shortly replaced by Hongjoong, he was cool and all but he couldn’t have deep conversations with him like he did with his best friend.

The lewd activities from that night replayed in his mind and he just couldn’t help how much his feelings for you kept growing since then; he was sure he was now in love. He envied Mingi and how easily he relaxed in situations where Yunho was conflicted.

“Why are you stressing, man? We all had a good time, it doesn't need to be brought up again.” His friend would say, but that was easy for him to say when he wasn't in love with you. 

You on the other hand had developed a full blown crush on your bodyguard, you liked the way he handled you, that was all you needed in your life. Not being able to hold back any longer you’d began to sneak out into the greenhouse that sat in a quiet corner of your grand backyard. Yunho would meet you for quickies, which would eventually lead to the two of you talking till the late hours of the night all while your parents remained clueless inside. You knew how much Yunho feared losing his job and being faced by your father, but of one thing you were sure; you always got what you wanted, and Yunho would be yours one way or another.

[jimxnslight]

The Odd One Out

Summary: When BigHit faces financial struggles, the unthinkable happens: a girl is added to BTS. For the seven members, the change is unsettling, especially for Namjoon, who doubts her place among them. But for Y/N… it's a chance to finally be seen.

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: idol au

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: I randomly got the urge to write but wasn’t really feeling any of my wips at the moment, so tell me why I opened a new doc and then 3 hours later this appeared? Like damn, I’m not used to this kind of motivation lmao

“This is a joke, right?”

A heavy silence followed Namjoon’s words, the band’s leader the only one with the guts to voice his mind. But really, someone had to point out how ridiculous the plan being proposed to them was. 

“Now I know it’s not very traditional-”

“It’s not breaking tradition that we’re concerned with,” he countered instantly, “it’s the fact that you’re proposing to bring a girl into the group.”

“I think we all just want to know where this is coming from,” Hoseok offered, inquisitive eyes traveling from Namjoon to their longtime friend and producer now sitting before them. 

Beomgyu sighed, taking in the small recording studio packed with the bright and young members of Bangtan. He had half a mind to call Sihyuk and give him hell for making him be the one to propose the solution they’d spent months coming up with. It was more than clear that the members weren’t on board with the plan, some outright rejecting it while others reluctant, which was a problem because only Beomgyu knew that they didn’t really have a choice in the matter. 

“Look,” Beomgyu raised his hands in surrender, not wanting this to fester into something dramatic, “I get it. The thought of someone being added into the group this late is a bit wild, especially that someone being a girl, but that’s exactly why we’re doing it.”

“So it’s a move for attention?” Yoongi commented, unimpressed. A single brow disappeared behind his light grey hair as he leaned back into the small sofa, arms crossing over his chest. Beomgyu could only purse his lips.

“The company’s been facing a lot of financial issues, especially ever since the girl group prior to your debut disbanded. They had hoped that perhaps your last album could have done well enough to keep us afloat until your popularity increases, but even I knew that was a long shot.”

“Then we’ll make a better album,” Namjoon said, determination making his voice firm, but Beomgyu shook his head.

“You guys don’t get it, do you?” 

The boys all gave Beomgyu a curious look, heads tilting and murmurs rippling amongst themselves. Beomgyu watched them all, feeling sympathy for the boys that deserved so much better.

“The Big Three companies have been buying up slots in awards shows and TV programs. They’ve been booking interviews everywhere - anywhere they can get their hands on. There are no places for us to market your group, nothing we can buy up because BigHit has no money. We’re lucky enough that the sales you guys make cover the production costs and some debts, which is way more than what we anticipated.”

He leaned forward in his chair, fidgeting with a stray pen, “you guys have made so many songs that should have been absolute hits, but they never did. Why? Because they can’t gain that kind of trajectory in a company so small. The only realistic thing to expect is to gradually gain popularity - but that takes time. Time we don’t have considering the fact that BigHit is sinking.”

The room was silent, everyone processing the weight of the situation. It made sense, as much as the boys hated to admit it, they were tired of putting all their blood, sweat, and tears into making their albums, only for them to gain minimal traction. They tended to put the blame on themselves most of the time, feeling as though they weren’t good enough, but Beomgyu knew the truth. Had they been in a bigger company, their songs would have been sellouts.  

“Come on, talk to me. You guys are my friends first, and I don’t want you to feel like we’re forcing a horrible decision on you,” Beomgyu begged, especially taking note of how quiet the younger members had been this entire time. 

He was relieved when Jimin sat forward on the couch, running a hand through his black hair slowly, “it’s just… this is weird. Not only for us, but what about the girl too? I can’t imagine she would feel comfortable being in a group with seven guys.”

“And doesn’t this decision seem a bit… permanent? Why not do something more temporary?” Yoongi piped in. 

Taehyung laughed, shaking his light brown hair, “what? Like dating rumours?”

Seokjin grimaced, as though the idea left a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Things like this tend to get a bigger reaction when the consequences are more permanent, or at least that’s what I was told,” Beomgyu offered. He was only a producer after all, most of the hard work had been done by the management. 

“And to answer Jimin’s question… well, the girl has already signed the contract, so she must be fine with it.”

That had all the boys’ heads snapping to Beomgyu.

“She’s already been picked out?” Jungkook asked, doe eyes wide in surprise. They widened even more when Beomgyu nodded, causing a frenzy amongst the boys. 

“You wanna meet her?” He asked with a relieved smile, glad to be out of the danger zone. 

Taehyung was the first to jump from his place on the couch, his leg accidentally bumping into Jungkook who had been sitting on the floor at his feet. He mumbled something in annoyance as his dark brown hair was pushed into his eyes.

“Okay, hold on.” Beomgyu’s words made the boys pause, “technically you’re not supposed to meet her until next week, but she told me she’ll be in the studio to record something for your next album today so I don’t think it’ll hurt to pay her a small visit.”

“You’ve met her already?” Hoseok asked, his tone slightly surprised. So much seemed to have changed in the span of 20 minutes. 

Beomgyu nodded, ushering everyone out of the recording studio to begin their journey to the one down the hall. Taehyung was right behind him, a boxy grin gracing his features. 

“So if you’ve met her, what’s she like?”

He seemed to have been the only one excited by the odd plan from the start, much less skeptical compared to his bandmates. But then again, Beomgyu wasn’t surprised. Taehyung seemed to have a natural liking for anything unusual. 

The other boys didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm, but he could see the hints of curiosity in their gazes. Even Namjoon trudged behind everyone reluctantly, though notably still skeptical of the plan. 

Once they had reached the door, Beomgyu knocked on it twice and then turned around to give them a look. 

“Regardless of your feelings towards this situation, let’s not try to overwhelm her, alright?” He said, his gaze then straying to Taehyung, “she’s a nice girl and she doesn’t deserve to be treated badly.”

Beomgyu didn’t actually believe any of the boys would be rude, he knew them better than that. He just hoped they also understood how nerve-wracking this would be for you, because he hadn’t lied, you really were a nice girl. 

The door behind him opened to reveal another producer.

“Alright then, let’s meet your new member.”

-

-

-

“God, you have no idea how much I’m enjoying this right now.”

Your head tilted in question at the comment, hands coming up to steady the headphones encasing your ears. This was probably your third hour in the recording booth, Hyowon seeming to want to make sure your voice didn’t work before he let you off.

“You enjoy getting rid of my voice?” You asked with an amused smile, the comment making him shake his head with a laugh.

“No, no, that’s not it, I swear. It’s just your vocals,” he explained, “I’m sure you already know we don’t get a lot of high notes around here - I mean don’t get me wrong, Jimin and Seokjin do an incredible job, but there’s nothing like a female high note.”

“I’m assuming you’re a fan of high notes?” You asked, almost bursting into laughter when he nodded instantly. 

“You should ask the guys, they’re sick of me telling them to sing one every two minutes- oh my god,” he exclaimed suddenly, a thought evidently coming to him, “please tell me you can do a whistle.”

You chuckled shyly, a bit embarrassed by your answer, “my vocal coach doesn’t want me to do it much until I get the proper technique down, but I’ve done it a few times.”

“Oh, Y/N. You’re gonna get so sick of me.”

You laughed, beginning to take a liking to Hyowon. It was nice to know there would be at least one person so easygoing and friendly in this company. It was going to make these next few months a lot easier if the other members decided they didn’t like you.

You knew technically it didn’t matter, but that thought had been playing around in your mind a lot lately. The entire situation was weird, even you had to admit, but the moment BigHit had given you a call and proposed the idea, you knew you’d have to be crazy to turn something like this down, especially considering how difficult it’s been trying to stay afloat as a solo artist from a small company.

Unlike what the company had in mind, however, you weren’t planning on staying in BTS forever. Your plan was to just join the group for about a year, ensure your name got out there while you and BTS grew in popularity, and then announce your disbandment from the group with a heartfelt goodbye. Rest assured if any of the guys weren’t a fan of your presence, they would only have to hold out for a few months.

Still, the people pleaser in you was hoping they didn’t hate you immediately. 

“Okay, I think that just about wraps up-”

A knock suddenly sounded from the recording studio’s door, causing the two of you to eye it curiously. 

“I thought there was still 20 minutes left until my fried chicken came, it must have come early…” Hyowon muttered, getting up from his seat to get to the door. 

You slid the headphones off your head with a relieved sigh, satisfied with the work you put in today, though your mind was already racing with ways to improve for next time. You let them whirl as you strolled out of the recording booth and gently placed the headphones back on the table. But when you turned around, you were surprised to find a number of other men in the room.

Not just any men too, but your soon-to-be bandmates. 

And all their eyes were trained on you, making your own widen. 

You’d technically seen them all in photos from the research you’d conducted after BigHit’s call, but those didn’t seem to do them justice at all. They didn’t capture the tender look in Yoongi’s eyes, or the pretty accents in Hoseok’s features. Jin, who you had already thought looked straight out of a k-drama, somehow looked even better in real life, while Namjoon’s aura seemed to exude the feel of a leader. Even though the rest were sort of hidden behind the older members, you could tell they were all attractive; it was so intimidating.

Before you could say anything - or sprint out the door like you really wanted to do right now - you caught sight of Beomgyu in the lineup of men, a friendly smile gracing his lips as he made his way to your side. 

“Hey guys,” he greeted, clapping Hyowon on the back before placing a more gentle hand on your shoulder. It was difficult to meet his eyes when your gaze kept flickering wearily to the boys surrounding you, “we thought it would be nice to drop by and see how the recording was going.”

Hyowon leaned a casual arm on Beomgyu’s shoulder, a testament to their evolved friendship over the years.

“It’s going very well,” he answered, excitement radiating off him in waves, “the high notes in your next album are going to be incredible.”

A series of groans rose from a few of the boys, only two of the seven harbouring amused smirks. It took a moment for you to place their names: Jin and Jimin, Bangtan’s main visual and lead vocalist. 

The latter accidently caught your gaze, black hair and sharp jawline giving him an almost charismatic intensity. But before you could quickly look away, his face broke into a warm smile, soothing a few of your nerves instantly. 

At least one of them didn’t seem to hate you. 

“Well, then…” Beomgyu began, catching everyone’s attention, “Hyowon and I have a couple things we need to work on, so… um, we’ll be right here if you need us?”

Hyowon snickered at the awkwardness before Beomgyu grabbed his shirt and dragged him to the computer across the room, which of course wasn’t that far with how small the studio was. You still missed the comfort of his hand on your shoulder, now feeling very alone while facing people that may potentially hate your existence. 

Still, you had to make at least some effort, right?

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you offered, voice smaller than you meant for it to be. 

A series of greetings sounded from them, some softening at your tone, while others were unmoved. It was difficult to gauge their general feelings on your presence, which only seemed to make you more nervous. 

Taehyung broke off from the group to stand closer, a boxy smile aimed right at you. You tried not to, but even you couldn’t stop yourself from ogling his almost perfectly structured face and the tousled hair that fell so effortlessly across his forehead when he moved.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile shyly at his excitement. If you hadn’t been so timid, you might have noticed his lingering gaze on your features, “this is all so cool, isn’t it?”

You’d never really thought about it like that, your views on the situation being controlled entirely by your nerves up until now. But when he put it that way… you supposed he was right, it was kind of cool. 

“I guess so,” you admitted, slowly warming up to the idea. 

“I mean, seriously, this is so crazy!” He continued on, facing the other members,“it’s not everyday a group gets a new member three years in - and that too a girl! This is kinda uncharted territory, you know?”

“That’s what makes it a bit scary,” you admitted with a chuckle. You noticed Jimin’s eyes soften at your words and his lips part to say something, but before he could, Jungkook piped up from behind Seokjin’s broad shoulders.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Y/L/N Y/N, would you?” He asked, his tone almost as shy as yours. You honestly hadn’t even realised he was there, but now that you had, you took in his doe eyes and ruffled dark brown hair. He kept having to push the silky locks out of his eyes, a motion you found insanely distracting. 

You nodded mindlessly, distantly surprised that he knew your last name without offering it. 

“Oh. Cool,” he nodded. Then he noticed your questioning look and quickly rushed to explain, “I think I’ve, um, heard your name somewhere.”

Seokjin’s gaze narrowed as he looked back at the younger boy, “hey, wait. Isn’t that the artist Jungkook listens to like all the time-?”

“So what’s your position?” Jungkook interrupted quickly, a bright shade of pink engulfing the sides of his neck. 

You blinked at Jungkook’s sudden change of topic, though you didn’t miss the slight panic in his expression. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, slightly amused by his reaction. Seokjin’s comment had not gone unnoticed by you; the fact that Jungkook liked your music was a comforting thought. 

“Vocalist,” you replied, deciding not to tease him over it, which elicited a look of relief on Jungkook’s face, “though Hyowon has said I’ll be doing so much harmonisation work with Seokjin and Jimin that it might as well be my actual position.”

Seokjin chuckled quietly, his plump lips spreading into a charming smile, though his gaze didn’t meet yours. In fact, you started to notice that he was keeping his gaze strictly on the other members even as you spoke. 

“Good, it’ll finally get him off our backs,” Yoongi muttered, revealing a much more laid back personality instead of the cold persona he seemed to emit on camera, “I’m a rapper and that man still tries to get me to put in a couple high notes.”

Hyowon turned from the mixing desk to face the group with an evidently offended huff, reminding you of the producers’ presence. 

“You all complain now, but just wait until you hear the final product. You’ll be thanking me.”

“Sure,” Yoongi deadpanned, turning to you once again, “can you rap?”

You tilted your head in thought. 

“I think I can hold my own if I had to, though it’s not really my style.”

“That’s fine, you’re one of us vocalists,” Taehyung waved his hand around dramatically, throwing a possessive arm around your shoulder as he eyed Yoongi, “no one wants to be one of the rappers anyway.”

“Weren’t you just yesterday begging Namjoon to let you on Cypher?” Jimin raised a brow.

“No.”

“Do you dance, Y/N?” Hoseok asked, interrupting the ridiculous conversation before it turned into a fight, though the way he leaned forward made it clear he was very interested in your answer. 

That question had you nervously rocking against your heels, a hesitant breath escaping your lips before you replied, “definitely not as good as you guys, but I’m ready to put in a ton of work to get better, I swear.”

Unlike the look of displeasure you expected, Hoseok nodded in your direction with a satisfied smile. It was a relief that he was willing to at least give you a chance before jumping to disdain. His gaze lingered as he scanned you from head to toe, assessing your potential with intensity.

“Hard work is a must,” Namjoon emphasised, the first time he’d spoken since walking into the room. Even though no one had been speaking, it felt as though a hush had washed over the group, a testament to the weight of his words as a leader. You’d been noticing Namjoon staring at you from the beginning, the look not exactly scorn, but not very inviting either. It made you squirm in your spot, doubt creeping into your thoughts, “being a soloist is pretty different from being in a group, which means you’ll have to put in a lot of hard work - it’s not going to be easy.”

You straightened, feeling as though you were being tested, “I understand completely. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m ready to put in the work. You don’t have to worry about me being a drain.”

Namjoon’s hard gaze flickered before he regarded you for a moment, no indication as to whether you had passed his mini “test” or not, “alright.”

A soft hand squeezed your shoulder gently, belonging to none other than Jimin. The proximity of his warm eyes made your face heat, something Jimin seemed to notice. His smile became teasing, “don’t say that, no one here thinks that you’re a drain. I think you’re going to do great. And if you have any questions don’t hesitate to-”

“I have a question actually,” Namjoon’s voice sounded once again, gaze still trained on you. You couldn’t help but feel a wave of tension run through you every time he spoke, “I’m curious to know why you agreed to this whole thing.”

You pursed your lips, not entirely sure how to reply. On one hand, you didn’t mind telling them about your plan, in fact, you bet they’d be relieved to hear it. But on the other hand, you were slightly afraid that they might think you were using them - which technically speaking you were, but also technically speaking they were using you too. It was an odd predicament.

“My solo career wasn’t doing as well as I had wished it would - plus, the excitement of something new mostly,” you offered. Only half the truth, but just enough to relieve you of your guilty conscience. 

“Well, the contract’s been signed and you’re here now, so you’re one of us,” Taehyung exclaimed, and you couldn’t help but be grateful for how welcoming he’d been since the start. Not that the others haven’t, Jimin’s presence had been like a warm blanket while Jungkook’s secret admiration had been an honour. And you completely understood everyone else’s hesitation, you’d be weirded out too if someone was randomly added to your group three years later. Still, the warm welcomes had made you insanely grateful. 

Taehyung steered you towards the door of the studio, “and what better way to celebrate than to eat some steaming barbeque and noodles.”

“Oh oka-” You barely had time to answer before you were being steered out the door by an enthusiastic Taehyung, the rest shrugging before following behind with casual chatter and mumbles. Soon the studio was empty, no one but Namjoon, Beomgyu, and Hyowon left. 

Namjoon stood with his hands crossed over his chest, gaze fixed on the door when he spoke.

“The contract’s already signed, huh?” he repeated, gaze shifting to the other two men in the room, “and what if we had said no?”

“Namjoon,” Beomgyu pleaded, his face falling, “please don’t make this harder than it has to be…”

Namjoon’s gaze softened, realising that he was directing his anger onto the wrong people, “sorry. I know this isn’t on you, man.”

“Come on, Joon,” Hyowon said, feeling bad for his friend, “she seems nice, and she’s got an incredible voice. You may not like the situation, but at least she’ll be a good addition to the group, no?”

Namjoon’s gaze strayed back to the open door, letting his thoughts whirl around in his head. He didn’t want to voice them out loud because, technically speaking, he didn’t really have any tangible evidence that went against what Hyowon was saying yet.

He uncrossed his arms with a sigh.  

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

[sibsteria]

pls for the love of god write more spencer. ur writing is everything

The difference between love and pretending…

Spencer Agnew x fem!Reader

a/n ask and ye shall receive

Masterlist

Warnings/Content: This be a short one, little bit of angst, pining, kissing, cheating, alcohol

Summary: He dated your friend, granted she treated him like dirt and you, doesn’t that break some kind of girl code? But he stood there, oh so beautiful and you just…

New! Spencer Agnew Prompt Series!

Prompt: “I can’t stop thinking about the last time we kissed.” “You say you don’t love me but you kissed me back like you did.”

Flashback

The living room was heavy with the heartbreak of your best friend and colleague, for that matter. A stupid romcom blaring colour from the tv that he swore he didn’t like in the dim light room, wine drunk to high heaven, scattered takeaway containers around the table and a big big box of chocolate.

Having just broken up with your friend, catching her kissing one of her guy friends when she thought she was alone, you were here to help him feel better. You didn’t know if it was working, but you hope it was, you hated seeing him like this- not because you had a crush or anything. You set them up together so really it’s your own fault, your own fault that you had to watch the two people you love in this world kiss over and over, your own fault he sat here upset.

The tension grew awkward after he spoke, “I should have dated you instead.” He laughed, but in a sort of self deprecation way. And the alcohol that cling to your brain made the case even worse as you blurted out- “Maybe…” Your eyes met his, you know it was wrong- he was going through heartbreak and he had belonged to your friend not six hours ago and…

He leaned down, unsure of what he was actually doing right now, and sure enough your lips met. It turned sloppy and messy, your lipstick smearing over his face as you gripped each others clothing.

What were you doing?

You felt embarrassed at yourself, he was hurting and you just let him kiss you like that, how selfish can you be?

Soon after you had pulled away, you made an excuse and left, you can’t do this to him or to yourself. You didn’t want to stay and become a rebound girl for the man you were pretty sure you loved.

You didn’t talk about it after that night, the rooms went silent and stuffy when it was just the two of you, neither of you knowing what to say.

Both of you tried to build your friendship back up, eventually getting to a point where you could exchange niceties when working, but in the back of your head you were sort of regretting what happened.

Until….

“Can I talk to you for a second…alone?” You paused as you packed up to leave, it was getting late and you didn’t want to bother the clean up crew.

“Um, yeah, sure- is everything okay?” You ask, your eyes darted anywhere but his face.

“No.” He put it plain and simple, it had been at least four months since that night, was he still angry at you?

“Oh…” Was all you could say, waving goodbye to your desk buddies before it left just the two of you.

“I can’t stop thinking about the last time we kissed.” He huffed out, swiping some hair out of his eyes.

“Ah…what do you mean?” You knew this was coming eventually, it was stupid to think it wouldn’t.

“I can’t stop thinking about it, about you…” You blink at his words, about you?

“About me?” Your breathing became a little heavier as the office was silent and still.

“About how much I want to kiss you again…” You gasped quietly, was he on drugs?

“Spencer…”

“I get it, if you don’t feel the same way but…I kind of know you do…” He trails off, looking a little awkward.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” You panicked a little, how did he know about your feelings? Was this a trick? You betted on Ian spilling the beans, of course he did!

“I feel like I used you that night, the night we kissed because…I knew you had feelings for me and I just…wanted to feel like someone loved me.” He’s upset at his own words, at himself for taking advantage of you and your feelings for him. You had gotten it all wrong, he wasn’t angry at you. You stayed calm even thought you felt utterly embarrassed that he had known about your feelings for so long.

“I…thought I was using you…because of how I felt and I thought I was being selfish letting you kiss me when I knew you loved her.” Her being your friend, of course.

“Let me kiss you again…” He stepped towards you, a fire in his eyes.

“What? Why?” You don’t want your feelings played around like that.

“Because…I, I like you back.” He softens at you, “Since that night, since the kiss, it’s like you messed with me…and I can’t stop thinking about you.” This can’t be true, it was just convenience.

“Spencer, no, you don’t. It’s just-“

“Yes…I do, I know the difference between love and pretending.” He was a smart man, of course he knew, not that you fully believed it.

“Okay, well…” You couldn’t do this to your friend, could you? You had only just patched things up after being angry at her for so long for breaking his heart, how would it look now if you just swooped him up? “I can’t…because she-“

“Forget about her, I stopped thinking about her the moment our lips touched and it’s not like she doesn’t deserve this…you shouldn’t care about her feelings more than your own.” Why was he so right?

“How are you so sure I love you, still? I don’t.” You had it coming as soon as you said that, your voice wavering because of the dishonesty in it. You couldn’t do this to her-

He scoffed, putting his hands up and cupping your jaw before pulling you into the most phenomenal kiss of your life, it happened quickly and you followed suit- kissing him back with the same passion.

His hands tangled in your hair as you came up to steady yourself on his chest, it went on for a while before he pulled away- a sick grin on his features.

“You say you don’t love me but you kissed me back like you did.” His eyes are shining as you can’t find anything to deny.

“I…” You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat, you didn’t know what to say.

“One date? If we aren’t a match then that’s the end…but I don’t see that happening, I really, really want this to work with you. Don’t think about what she might think or say. We were friends for much longer and…you don’t need someone like her in your life” She did treat you terribly, you were always so kind to people and they took it for granted more often than not.

“You know, you are really stubborn.” You suppressed a smile, looking at him with a glint of joy in your eyes.

“Tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at 6? They do discounts on the bowling place down the street after 8, we could get some dinner…or something like that?” That sounded amazing, a chill first date.

“Perfect.” You bite your bottom lip, smiling.

“You won’t regret it.” He leans in to kiss your cheek.

What have you gotten yourself into?

[orleans-jester]

“Sounds American enough for me,” Go-Go said. They might as well just loot the store, so she picked up some snacks that she hadn’t seen before yo go along with the alcohol. Poptarts. Hot Chili Takis. Peanut Butter cups. Jelly Bellies. It was Halloween, so bring on the candy rush.

And then onwards to the lengthy tour.

Even with the expensive alcohol burning through her stomach, she was a damn good driver, and took every turn that Dale advised her too, all without crashing onto the sidewalk or into lightposts and fire hydrants. They didn’t have to worry about the average person walking back, Valerie and Thomas had already made their way to the inn, and there were no other walkers.

The classics were cool enough, even if history wasn’t really her thing. “I could see you running one of those tourbuses,” She chuckled up at Dale. “With the microphone, making cheesy jokes to all of the tourists. You would be fantastic.”

She knew who most of the people that he talked about were. Clopin, obviously, they had met a couple of times, not the least of all she had seen him and his husband tonight, having a good time at the Ball. She tried to picture him as a younger man, which was pretty amusing. She could only do so with clown makeup. “They must be pretty close friends then,” She said, about Flotsam bringing up that tree everytime they would have passed it by.

She was snacking now, mixing the spicy with the sweet. Half-melted peanut butter cups with the takis stuffed in them. It was a feast for the eyes, for the ears, and now for the tongue.

“A magic school … full of teenagers … next to a super dangerous forest,” GoGo said dryly. She didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that it was going to go all wrong from the beginning. She didn’t mean to trash on his birth mom but she couldn’t help saying - “Really don’t think she was smart enough to open a school in the first place. Money can’t buy common sense, evidently.”

The construction was forever going to be unfinished. The person who had been working on it, meticulously building it back up, was long dead. Somewhere out there wandering, most likely. Forever searching for his toddler daughter. Tragic. Moving on.

She wasn’t used to these kind of compliments yet. She was growing adjusted to them, since the Laveaus could be complimentary people if they liked you. Especially Scout. But that coming from Dale, plus the snacks, plus the liquor.

She let out a belch as the bubbles from the alcohol seemed to come back up, and then giggled at herself. “Yeah, I’m glad you guys became kiwis too.”

They went into the fancy neighborhood. There was a playground now, at the place where Dale was pointing. The place that had once been the Renault house until Boogie destroyed it. “I always forget that those two were a thing,” She laughed, looking out the window, tilting her head slightly. “I really can’t imagine it.”

When they met, Chip had multiple wives. And Maddy was at the very least engaged to Bastien, and they were married shortly after the Laveaus moved to New Zealand. Anything else just seemed - odd.

“Why do I feel like it was you being the panty-stealer and not your brother?”

They kept on driving and stopping but Go-Go really didn’t mind. They had all night. And all day. “You kicked his ass, didn’t you?” She said about the guy that was running his mouth. That seemed a very Dale-like thing to do.

Funkytown was lit and looked like it was jumping, even if Figaro and Willem weren’t there quite yet. Door clown was dancing in the doorway, his hat just being seen through the window in the front door. Small figures were silhouettes through thin curtains. There was even a thump that could be heard from the outside (Diana’s leg had fallen off again and she took a tumble down the stairs, though she was alright as always). “Well shit, I hope we get to come back for a Funkytown party.”

She’d take occasional swigs of the liquor despite driving. Without any other cars on the roads, or pedestrians, there wasn’t as much worry. The alcohol seemed to help expand her mind during all of these stories, taking in what was behind and between the words. Getting to know Dale in a new light. Hell, they had even lived together and she didn’t know him that well. This was the most that they had talked, at least since her father kicked her out.

They really were going everywhere, from downtown to rich-ville to the trailerpark. This place had a lot of history, though Go-Go was only getting bits and pieces of it right now. She parked the car in front of the trailer that Dale was indicating, the headlights bringing light onto it. It looked abandoned. It looked … rough.

“Yeah,” She nodded, knowing that feeling all too well of losing a best friend. Fuck, she knew it well, as Dale had found out earlier. “I’m sure we would have got on.”

She held out another peanut-butter taki creation and the expensive bottle of alcohol, not saying anything.

“So you just make it your mission to be everyone’s big brother, huh?” She asked after a moment, remembering Babyface and Ellie, the two youngest at the Ball apart from when Frankie was brought up.

She stopped when he suddenly called out the wait, and climbed out through the open window, sitting on the door and leaning over the hood of the car, watching as he ran in and took a bunch of electronics. Even she was eyeing some of the stuff when he brought it back. “Damn, that’s a jacked-up laptop.”

In a good way, of course.

But then back to the roads, passing through places that … looked like a dream. Especially Sherwood forest. With it not being lit up, it looked like something out a horror movie that Figaro would love. Deserted. The joust was over.

“You’re lucky,” She spoke, after Dale was reminiscing about what one could do in the city in the span of a single day. “To have grown up somewhere so cool.”

Down the even shadier road, the trees not being tended to and growing out of control, limbs going out onto the road, making their branches hit the windshield. Nothing cracked it yet, but who could tell what would happen later down the line. There was a feeling of excitement growing inside of her to see the ruins of the old Laveau house, which she had heard so much about. It was like a little kid catching the first glimpse of a ferris wheel or a roller coaster on the way to an amusement park. So closer, just a little further.

“Of course there’s a Skull Rock, why am I not surprised.”

“I don’t know whether to believe you or not,” She teased. A door to another world just seemed … so crazy. So unlikely. And something that someone would definitely snatch up and use to make money or something like that. Build a resort in Christmasland. Capitalism as its finest. “Let me guess, Santa lives in there?”

The smell grew heavier the more they went. A heady, green smell that made her feel a little bit dizzy, though that could have been the alcohol too. She was driving slower, with the swamps all around. It looked and felt as if the car could get stuck and go down into the murky depths at any second. “You said there’s zombies around here, in these woods, right?” She asked, rolling up her window for the time being.

“Oh shit, yeah, probably,” She said, taking in Dale’s outfit again. It had been funny in the first place but now there was grass stains on the pink shirt from when he had crashed into the ground. Dirt stains too, on his knees and other parts of his body. Not to mention that half of him looked like a giant bruise, partly her doing. “I’d offer ya something but - it’s not my car so there’s no sweater in the back.”

She turned her head to look at him with an eyebrow raised, and then laughed, shaking her head, looking back to the trail. It was dark out here, despite the slowly raising sun. They couldn’t see beyond the headlights. More compliments. “Right, and you’ve had how much to drink tonight?”

“My parents hate everything, to be fair,” She cracked up, thinking of what their faces would look like if they could see her right now. “Almost wish I was talking to them again, just so I could tell them about this. Alone, with you, in our costumes, in a stolen car, in an abandoned city halfway across the world, going down what seems like the darkest fuckin’ path known to man.”

They’d probably try to exorcise her or something. Slap her with reeds because she didn’t know discipline. Lock her in her room for forty days and forty nights until she came to her senses or some such shit.

“You’re not too bad yourself, crop tops suit you, actually.”

"Unholy." He'd grin and hiss as he took a swig with all the muscles in his neck stretched involuntarily from the heat after it went down.

"Gummy Bears. Classic. Like Claudette. We know a lady who's so down with champagne gummy bears she baths in that shit, or so I've heard. She's a legend."

He'd grab a couple colorful bags and toss them in the basket with some chips.

"Most American? Oh, damn uh. Putting me on the spot. American American. Something in me wants to say Ballpark hotdogs but we're not at a ballpark so you I'm loading up with Doritos because that's what I like. Cool Ranch and Flaming Hot. I don't know what's most American, but I know what's most southern down here in LousiAnn. I'll get you some creole pork skins and hot peanuts since we aren't stopping for street food tonight." He laughed knowing there were no vendors in Feral anymore. He looked for a bag of that and some classic gator jerky, always a fun tourist pick-up at gas stations in the south.

They were leaving with a basket of snacks and Grey Goose, not to be fancy, but it was his actual go to outside a jack and coke. Blame Flotsam. High proof in GoGo's hand too. They were on their way. She only wanted to see one place and it didn't exist anymore.

"Mayyyyyyyyyybe. I wouldn't mind seeing that place either. Maybe we'll just drive by so you can see what it was like to go there. See what's become of it by now. We'll save it for the end since it's far out in the swamps maybe. I'll figure it out."

"We need no GPS tonight. I know this place like a-a I'm a human compass. Chip might dress like apocalypse is a fashion statement, but trust in me. Don't wig out when after we get past the city part. I'm never lost. I promise."

Sitting down into the car would make him look cripple again. He moved slower, cringed, and groaned as he sat. His injuries were inflamed and showed face the most when he was forced to bend. He let out another great, "Ahhhhhhh." When his back hit the rest he knew he was safely in GoGo's care. He was good to go.

He downed another swig and pulled open a bag of peanuts and a spicy scent of red-hot tickled his nose, but already he could feel numbness in his face. He started to smile. He wasn't particularly hungry after the ball yet, but it was Nola smell. It was home smell, a familiar smell, like a memory. He could close his eyes and almost see mudbug bakes across the quarter. He could almost hear the laughter, commotion, and fun of a Bourbon Street night, or maybe the lid being pulled off a giant pot of gumbo big enough to feed the whole camp. He turned his head and looked in her direction. "I'm feeling better already. Smells like gumbo or mudbugs. Way better than a Pinetree air freshener."

A drink or two later and he was about ready to focus. He allowed himself to enjoy letting the buzz hit him and then sat up so he could think better and tell her where to go. He decided to pretend like he took off a hand speaker from the ceiling like on tour bus rides and started talking into his palm and while giving directions.

What he did was have her drive around the quarter first because of reguar old tourism. It would be intereting to see what was left. He pointed to some classics. "Marie Laveau's cemetery. Her tomb is in there." There were some parts of Nola that just weren't going anywhere even though it was Feral now. He'd ramble on about St. Mark's and let her see some historical places that were easily seen on the internet. The point wasn't historical value. The point for Dale was to show GoGo the little spaces in-between so she could picture their past life. He'd say things he knew even if he didn't live it himself because it was always told to him. It was the history of his family. He'd say things like "-and here's where my dad would always point the tree he used to climb in to watch Clopin do his magic tricks when he was a street performer and living on the streets. We couldn't pass that tree without Dad opening his mouth and telling us as if he'd never told us before even though he told us every single time we'd come to the city. Not even a trip to McD's went without."

Dale would start getting tipsy as the memories started rolling. He would start to sound boring completely on purpose pointing to random historical buildings before rolling up to the large empty space that looked like a construction site. He was grinning so wide.

"And this my lovely, lovely, driving, sight-seeing, friend was once the site of The Magisterium where my deceased mother built a supernatural school for magic kids my father never wanted us to go to, but caved because he always did for her, while at the same time she went into politics and made it illegal for witches to use their magic in the way nature works, refusing to admit there's always a supreme witch that powers pass to from witch to witch even though it just sort of does. She thought she could outlaw nature. It was like trying to outlaw puberty. It was like living with someone who identified as a bleeding-heart liberal who only wanted to do good for the people, who didn't realize they were actually a Trumper with no common sense to what they were actually doing." He was getting a little buzz on so he was laughing. "AND.... she was so slick she decided to put her school next to a forbidden forest for real. RIGHT THERE." He pointed to a tree line way beyond the rubble. "Tons of dangerous magical creatures in there. I know. Let's build a school and put young kids that won't listen to rules right next to it, and I mean young. There was a daycare. I mean I get it if it was Hogwarts. But that's fiction. It was needed for the story to be funny. She did it for real. For real GoGo. She placed a school next to the most dangerous piece of land next to the Cursed 100 Akre Wood in Nola. Let's just say eventually all that shit didn't go over well with the town. And you my dear GoGo are looking at the remnants of my so-called life and why we eventually moved to New Zealand. Aint it beautiful?"

He rolled his head her way.

"At least one good thing came out of it. We met you."

Boy were his lips loose with the high proof. She'd seen Dale drink before, but something had gotten into him tonight.

"Ohhh, drive over there. Hi fancy schmancy lane. This is the road Chip obsessed Maddy over on. The first time we went there it was because we felt like we had to take care of Piper so she wouldn't get taken advangtage of by Pierre. She'd never been around other boys from the real world before. Clopin gave us like... older brother sorta orders and we took them very seriously. We may have stolen panties from that house... twice."

He didn't usually talk so openly about everything. Hell, GoGo lived with Dale as roommates for quite a while and he didn't open up this much. He was ready. Timing. But, at every stop between every drive to each new place he just kept jabbering. Something had gotten into him being back home like this. Maybe it was just the alcohol.

"That is the human school where I may have caused a riot." He started laughing real hard again. "An actual riot. I walked up to a mother fucker who was talking shit and didn't let it slide. Cop evasion was a sport while living here."

He started patting at GoGo's arm and made her turn towards Figaro's place. "That's Funkytown. You don't know anything until you've experienced a Funkytown party. That's where it all started. Damn fucker. Chip fucked the same dude up at a party there. Bunch a bullshit." He'd go into full blown explanations yammering on about silly events of their past and things that had happened all over the town.

If GoGo ever thought she knew these guys at all, she'd know them now because Dale was going down memory lane. He couldn't help himself. He'd stop at every other home or business and have a comment. It wasn't just things like that's where his family's tourist shop was, or that's where the House of Mouse used to be, where his Electric Voodoo used to play all the time. It was more like that's where I had to sit in dressing rooms when I was little until the show was over. It was always Dale's point of view. So, he'd start laughing and tell stories of how much mayhem he caused with his powers like equipment malfunctions, ticket booth sales gone wrong, old Pete's watches and clocks changing so shows could last longer so Chip and Dale could sneak around to cause havoc longer with patrons.

It would be revealed that's where the kids learned a lot of their cooking skills, hanging out with the chefs at the House of Mouse like babysitters while their daddies were jamming on stage. Sure, Cinderella was a kind of homemaker and passed that on to be sure, but she didn't get all the siblings do from being a house maid to the Tremaine's or reading Readers Digest recipes. The real fancy stuff the boys do, that came from the House of Mouse and being unwitting connoisseurs of fine dining. The boys always seemed to pull off what passed as fine dining and didn't seem to pay it much mind as anything special, but to them it's just how they do things. Homeschool kids had brains that soaked up the world. It's how they learned everything. Not that GoGo was looking for explanations to the how this family worked, but through the tour she was getting a look at the gears inside of the Dale cuckoo clock.

It was conversations like that's where he found a baby croc stuck in barbed wire, or the downed heron with the broken wing. It was more personal experiences to Dale that might start to paint a picture of who he was here. That no shame loud voice would bumble out stories of all his research on the animals he and his brother would do while doctoring wild animals and releasing them into the wilds behind their home that birthed the Rescue Rangers. For Dale his mind had a way of going off on the details of the computer programs he'd use to file the information for each animal and everything they'd do for them that he'd built from the bottom up. A bit of a tech side showing face here and there.

He waved his hands around. "Okay. Okay. Okay. Enough of this. You wanna see where Dale spent his time?" He pointed another direction, and he'd lead her close by the trailer park.

"This is where the Beagles lived. Most of 'em." He'd have her drive up to an unassuming single wide. "This is Megabyte's trailer where I spent most my days off the swamp." His smile started to fade for the first time. "He was my best friend, and nobody ever got to know him. I don't think I ever brought him to my house once. We didn't do that. We weren't really allowed. Sort of. I mean we were, but not. It wasn't the best idea. So, I never wanted to bother my parents with friends. They had so much heavy going on. Too risky. That's the hard part of grieving someone nobody knows. Nobody gets it but yourself."

He leaned over the console and said, "He was smart. I mean real smart. You'd have liked him. He'd have been able to keep up with your brain better than me. He was like a genius. He was a tech guy, hacker type but more. The guy that fixed up Maddy's papers from her old name. It's not just forgeries. No trace anywhere of her old self. Do you know how hard that is to do? We'd play games all day in there and talk smack. He was amazing and he was my friend. I wish you could have met him."

Then the pain of what had been going on in Dale, the silent pain that he never spoke of because it was his own. Everyone had their own problems. He carried his own burdens, his own grief. But for just a moment they reddened his face, and his lips held tight, and his cheeks ballooned out as he tried to hold it all in and stuff it back down where it belonged.

He sat back down in his seat and blew out and then pointed at where Babyface's trailer was. "That's where lil' Babyface lived. You met him. That's his lil' brother man. That's why I gotta take care of him if he'll let me. I owe it to Megabyte now that all this has happened. Then once Ellie got involved it was a done deal, but I'd have offered to help the kid anyway."

It was hard for him to be in the trailer park. Tour de Dale had to move on.

"Okay we gotta move this party." He was swigging big here. Shove the world down. Shove. Shove. Shove or he'd ending up really saying shit he didn't need to say. He was starting to remember why breaking things was easier. "Let's get out of this city already. This tour..." He was speaking into his invisible hand mic again, "is swamp ready. It's time to see real Nola. If you want to understand Nola through my eyes we have to get to the depths, baby." He started grinning again.

"WAIT!"

Before they pulled out of the trailer park, he pushed the door open and tumbled out of his car door. He pulled himself back up in a way that looked a little discombobulated. Between his injuries and the alcohol, he wasn't ready for how his head was going to feel. "Woah. Okay then." Then he marched up to the Megabyte's door and held onto the rickety wooden siderails and kicked in the door. It was a trailer. It wasn't hard. Then he came back carrying a cardboard box of laptops with wires hanging all out of the sides. He shoved it into the back of the car.

"I think he'd want me to have them."

He'd have fun going through them later when he got back home to New Zealand.

"Okay ready."

He would be moving better all things considering. The alcohol by this time was masking the pain. He didn't point out a lot after that. His heart was shoving things down still until they made it closer to the borders when he finally said, "OH! Look. There's Sherwood Forest. That's where we picked up weed. It's also where you could Robin Hood style ren faire all year round. Damn, I miss Wulf's strains of weed. He was such a cook too. He made superb edibles."

The memories got him laughing again. "You know a person could spend a day in every spot we've briefed rummaging around like an unlimited vacation stocking up on Mardi Gras masks, Victorian costumes, professional grade instruments, do our own tarot readings, play in crystal balls in all the magic shops, or have a joust in a full suit of armor, and camp out at the faire, and crank up the big Ferris wheel if a person wanted to, and go home with real knight swords and shields, full geek mode unbound. I'm starting to understand this Bastien hoarding thing I keep hearing about."

After that point it got to the long trail through the forest that led to swamplands. As all the city began to disappear, no lights behind them left twinkling in the distance, all nature before them and after gone, he'd say, "This is the drive. The drive we'd have every time we went to town. It's why if we came to the city we'd stay and make ourselves comfortable. There were no quick trips. It's worse than the bush back in NZ because there was our house, but then there was camp. If we wanted to get to camp, there came a spot the vehicles couldn't make it through. No road. You took canoes or kayaks on through the swamp. Also, why once we decided to go to camp, we stayed and made ourselves comfortable. If you forgot something you were so up a shit creek. Whenever we did forget something, Chip blamed it on me. Oh, and me, Scouts, and Chip had the animals to play with. We had taken loads of side quests on the way. Hung out with lost boys or got involved with pirate chases as kids. The Never Swamps are that way. Pirate Cove. Skull Rock. That's a whole other adventure."

Then he pointed to the left and kept talking in his palm. "And that way is the secret path to the holiday trees." He waggled his brows. "Oh yes. Magic trees. It'd take all night if we actually toured all these places. But I shit you not there's magic trees with doors on them that lead to magic lands. I swear to fuck there's a real Christmas Land, like the North Pole. I'm not drunk. I mean, I am. But I'm serious. I wouldn't lie to you." He laughed. "Okay, maybe I would, but not about this. Chip would throw me in just to carry buckets of snow back to the swamp and throw snowballs in the mud."

Beyond this point the drive would become eerie swamp. It was dark and covered by layers of moss in the thick canopy of branches that enveloped the sky. The tour had already been long, but this drive was longer. They'd be lucky to reach old estate land before morning. He started to sink lower into his seat. "Just stay in the trail. It's still a little further out." He watched her as she drove noticing her outfit again. It made him more self-aware of his own. "I should have thought to grab some normal clothes while in town." He shook his head at how silly it was to not think of that as he sat there still in a pink crop top. It was meant to bring laughs that night though. It certainly had done its job. He couldn't help in the lengthy section of landscape as beautiful as the memory of it at all was to admire GoGo in her dress instead.

"You know I meant it earlier. You really were looking hot tonight. I mean... are. I mean... you look extra pretty tonight. You got that head turning look going on." He started to grin sort of goofy and flirty at the same time. "I bet your parents would have hated it. Damn they hated me." He started chuckling low looking up at her, bottle in his lap. "And I've experienced being the first generation after the aftermath of a city with a voodoo genocide and lived in the thralls of supernatural white boy hate. My priv is checked on every corner for being born. But it hardly compared to the look in your parents' eyes the day we marched out of your house." He couldn't help but keep grinning. He got too much amusement out of poking the bear so to speak in GoGo's parent. Plus, she really did look damn hot. "Anyway, what I mean is, you look good."

[lukolastrong]

These anons are too much. Ok, you believe that Luke and Antonia are together and you have accepted that. Or that Nic and Jake are together. Great for you! But what does that have to do with us? We don’t believe that and you coming here, to a LUKOLA SHIPPING BLOG, to tell us that we should just accept that is wild! Just as you have every right to believe he is with A, we are also still entitled to our opinions. The vast majority of Lukola shippers stick to their little corner of the internet sharing thoughts and opinions with each other. We aren’t sending hate to L, N, A, or J. And if at the end of the day we are wrong about everything, then so what? It doesn’t directly impact us in any way whatsoever. But we still have the right to ship Nic and Luke, as long as we are respectful about it.

I am starting to think the issue with these anons trying to push L/A and N/J might be that they still really want to believe in N and L too, but they are too afraid to be disappointed if it turns out they are wrong. So they come to Lukola blogs to try to shame everyone for not “seeing” things as they do, but only so that the blogger and their followers can reinforce why we believe they are together. It gives them hope even when what they are saying is the total opposite. If that makes any sense at all. I mean, if they are so certain in their belief about L/A and/or N/J, then they wouldn’t be worried about what we think. Just like those of that believe that Nic and Luke are together aren’t worried about what they think.

And I am not saying we should all believe exactly the same things because then it simply becomes an echo chamber. I appreciate that you don’t block/delete the people that think differently and are voicing their thoughts and opinions in a meaningful way on your blog. Because some will block you immediately if you don’t fall in line with everything they say. It’s good to have an open discussion, especially when we don’t agree. It gives us a whole new perspective. But these anons say the exact same thing over and over and think that by being condescending, they will change people’s minds.

I think Nic and Luke are together, but understanding full and well that I could be wrong, but I am also not going to anyone’s blogs trying to force my opinions as facts onto anyone that believes differently.

I’m so sorry for the rant, but it’s frustrating for these anons to continuously send in these same old tired asks. My kudos to you and Bianca because you guys handle these anons phenomenally, even though I am sure it can get so stressful. 😩🫠

Don’t apologize, I love to read rants and hear what others are thinking.

I agree! Why come into our peaceful space and try to convince of these things? It’s so tiresome. It’s clearly not going to work so just march on back to where you came from. I feel like that too. Also I feel like most of them are likely scared Lukola shippers who are afraid that if we’re wrong they’ll look dumb so by pretending to be another shipper they’ll have that to fall back on and say “see told you so”.

Yeah it’s nice to have different opinions and perspectives that can bounce off each other. Of course♥️ I hope I’ve created a safe space for opinions while also fostering my ideas. I’ve heard of those blogs and it’s not a good place to go. At the end of the day shipping is suppose to be fun and light hearted. It’s all speculative anyway as we don’t know these two irl. I love to read the comments under my posts as everyone has different ideas and thoughts but they all lead to the same result.. Lukola 🥹

“I think Nic and Luke are together, but understanding full and well that I could be wrong, but I am also not going to anyone’s blogs trying to force my opinions as facts onto anyone that believes differently.” 💯 I love this.

Thank you 🙇🏼‍♀️ it does get that way sometimes but I end up deleting a lot of the asks because they’re all the same.

[radsoldier]

you're a bad idea - Part 2

Pairing: Cairo Sweet x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N tries to avoid Cairo while the latter finds herself falling deeper.

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: cursing

a/n: hi guys, sorry for the eternal delay but a lot of shit happened and i'm not sure how i made it out alive but hey! i'm back! anyway, hope you enjoy :)

(poem's "did you think i was a city" by rupi kaur)

part 1

You were never one for gossip. You were simply not interested. Being the center of rumors for as long as you could remember was no fun at all so when all the stories about Cairo hit your ears you were annoyed. You didn’t really care if it was true or not, it was none of your business. But you knew she was bad news and that’s why you chose to let things cool off and tried your best to ignore her. 

You moved here to avoid drama, to start fresh or however your old therapist would like to call it. You knew you were just running away from it all. 

_______________________________________________________________________________ 

A week later, soft rain was pouring as you got off your bike, some students scrambling to get to class before getting soaked. 

You opted for lighting up a cigarette under the small roof right at the entrance. You were already late, might as well enjoy the little time you had outside of the college halls.  

Wishing you had stopped for some coffee, you started walking towards the library, not feeling like enduring another creative writing lecture. It felt like the perfect excuse to keep avoiding Cairo. And you also had to rehearse your piece for the poetry reading later today. 

“Fuck me” you thought. 

________________________________________________________________________________ 

Cairo was annoyed. No, she was outraged. You were ignoring her yet she couldn’t keep her thoughts from drifting to you. It was torture, you were pestering her mind like she had no control over it. She hated it. She hated how you seemed unfazed every time you caught her staring while she had to hold her breath as if even the smallest movement would make you disappear. She had replayed your interaction over and over in her head getting little to no answer as to why you could go from hot to cold just like that. It made no sense to her. 

That’s why when your professor asked for someone to deliver some notes on your most recent work, she volunteered to be the one doing it. 

He told her where to find you, given that he knew about your poetry reading and she began to gather all her things and started walking toward the auditorium. 

She hesitated at the slightly open door, the dim light making her unsure but the sound of your voice coming from the inside was enough to shake her doubts and stride into the room. 

“Did you think I was a city 

big enough for a weekend getaway.” you paused. 

“I am the town surrounding it 

the one you’ve never heard of 

but always pass through.” 

“There are no neon lights here 

no skyscrapers or statues 

but there is thunder 

for I make bridges tremble. 

I am not street meat, I am homemade jam 

thick enough to cut the sweetest 

thing your lips will touch.” you glanced around the room, letting the words sink in. 

“I am not police sirens 

I am the crackle of a fireplace. 

I’d burn you and you still 

couldn't take your eyes off me 

cause I’d look so beautiful doing it 

you'd blush.” Cairo was taken aback by the emotion in your voice. 

“I am not a hotel room I am home 

I am not the whiskey you want 

I am the water you need. 

Don’t come here with expectations 

and try to make a vacation out of me.” 

you finished as the few people in the room stood up, clapping. 

“You never cease to amaze me, Y/N” a young professor started. “Can’t wait to read your small piece for your assignment” he smiled like you were the only one in the room. 

Cairo watched as you exchanged pleasantries with a few peers, looking relieved when someone else took the spotlight. And then you saw her. Doe-eyed and slightly parted lips, she looked like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. 

“What are you doing here, Sweet?” you spat.  

She tried to hide her disappointment at your cold demeanor but you could see the small changes in her face even if it was just for a split second. 

“Professor Brooks wanted me to give this to you” she said, gesturing towards the folder she held out. “You know, since tomorrow is the deadline and he left some corrections and notes for you” 

“Fuck” you sighed. 

Only then did she look at you, a teasing glint in her eyes, the ghost of a smile over her full lips. You took the folder from her, your hands barely touching. The moment felt charged, none of you ready to break the eye contact. It was almost like both of you were fighting to see which one would cave in first. 

You cleared your throat. 

“Thank you” 

She nodded, not saying a word before leaving the room as you stood there, still reeling from the tingling sensation you felt when your hands touched. 

‘Did she feel it too?’ you thought. 

________________________________________________________________________________ 

Cairo laid awake well past midnight. Her laptop long forgotten on the side of her bed, a cigarette on her lips. Her thoughts kept drifting towards a certain someone. 

You were right: you had burned her, yet she couldn’t take her eyes off you. 

Your eyes haunted her, that piercing stare that made her feel like she couldn’t hide from you even as you were a complete mystery to her. It was unnerving. 

She remembered how your hands moved during your reading. The same hands that held her waist and throat just a week ago. The very same hands she couldn’t stop dreaming about, doing unholy things to her. 

She kept thinking about your low, rough voice and how good it would sound moaning her name. 

God, she needed to get laid. 

It had been a while since she felt this kind of obsession over someone. Last time didn’t end well. It kind of scared her, in retrospective, the lengths she was willing to go in the past. But this time it was different, she could feel it. Or maybe it was just a stupid white lie she told herself so she could avoid the guilt that was slowly eating her up. 

That night Cairo dreamt about you. 

[resident-idiot-simp]

Based off of a comic that I swear to God I can't find. Soapghost where I think it is Ghost that slips a ring onto Soap tags and doesn't tell him. Only when someone pointed out to see freak out and ask what kind of proposal was that.

Anyways that but deadclaws courtesy of @shy-canadian-snowflake for starting off this version of the idea and @orcadork4ever for helping

When the tags get thrown to the ground when Logan quits he pauses as he sees the ring. He stares wide eyed before taking the ring off and putting it on. He knows who did it but he's not here right now.

He leaves and when Wade finds the tags he sees the ring gone and smiles.

THEN THEN THEN AFTER EVERYTHING he put the ring on his new tags and where is it. But after the memory wipe half of what he is trying to learn about what happened to him is also about learning with a ring is from.

The idea of rogue when she's in the car looking at his tags and seeing the ring 😭😭😭

Does Jean still try to make moves despite it? What happens what do people think?

"Does it count as cheating if you don't even know who the ring belongs to?" Then Logan getting pissed because he might not know where it belongs. But he sure as hell knows the feeling of love he gets when he looks at it.

What about the other people whispering about how someone could ever marry someone like him

Logan has no idea where the ring came from but somewhere in the recesses of his mind he feels so much love for whoever the ring is from.

He knows whoever gave it to him means the word to his past self so he wouldn't dare taint it

I also imagine this is a similar universe to the other fic where Wade is in the X-Men movies.

So Wade but not origins just ends up our normal Wade. He's probably searching for Logan too

Rogue being so curious about the ring and asking incessantly. In Logan not so secretly hopes it will jog something in his memory.

Out of everything Rogue pities Logan for the ring is the worst one. How horrible it is that something so special to him is lost from his memory. How dare the world take away this obvious source of happiness.

Imagine her finding Logan outside one night crying silently as he clutches at the ring and muttering curses at the world for taking away the love of his life 😭

Rogue demanding Xavier to figure it out because Logan doesn't fucking deserve to be dragged along with the carrot on the stick being his happiness

Od-

Xavier tries to use the essence from the ring but can’t find him because he’s mutated by now and shows up different he tells Logan he can’t find him and they take that to mean he’s dead

He just lives in a haze. Going through day to day. He knows by now that he can’t kill himself anyways, even though he wants to. He’s lived this long in misery before, he can keep doing it.

He hears about Deadpool and goes along with Colossus and NSTW to make sure this guy isn’t a total fuckhead.

Seeing him fight… there’s something so familiar about it. A dancer’s grace, the lethality and deliberateness of his movements.

He watches as Colossus warns him about not taking the life of the man who tortured him. Already knowing it’s a lost cause even not knowing the backstory. Whatever this fucker did, he deserves it.

Snorts to himself when Deadpool just shoots the guy in the head. A snicker cutting off short at the harsh call of “Wade!”

“Wade…?”

This close he can hear him. Hear the constant stream of innuendos and puns. And it comes flooding back. All of it. Nights spent pressed together on a too small cot in the too hot jungle heat. Slipping off to swim in the river. Promises breathed against parted lips of a future and forever.

Dropping to all fours he gallops at Deadpo- at Wade. His Wade, knocking him over and sending the two of them tumbling.

“Whoa! What the fuck?!”

Sobs ripping out of the yellow mass gripping him, a ragged and familiar “Wade!” making him freeze. “L-Lo? Is it really…!”

Logan ripping off his gloves and cowl with tears streaming down his face. “They made me forget. I forgot. I didn’t know who it came from but I still Knew”

Wade watched him in awe, his mask growing wet with his own tears as he reached to hold Logan’s hand with the ring. “You kept it…~”

“Of fucking course I kept it. You gave it to me.”

Me: Logan's face just buried into Wade's scare neck as he sobs and clutches at his back. Wade isn't much better off as he claws at Logan's back in a vain attempt to crawl inside the other man

Wade hesitantly stopping Logan when he goes to take his mask off. “It’s not what you remember, Peanut.”

“Good thing I don’t remember. It’s just you”

Me: the others watch on is stunned silence because this is the most emotion they had seen either man exhibit ever

Vanessa watching from the side and just crying in joy for her friend. She’s his best friend. They fuck around, but they’re friends first. He’s spent many a-night whispering to her about his Logie Bear

Me:

She then devoted herself to trying to help him find Logan but got caught in the crossfire

Logan couldn't be fucking happier. He won't let Wade out of his grasp and doesn't plan to for a long while.

The X-Men can't comprehend it. This was Logan the man who hated people just existing. Why is he now sobbing into a mercenaries neck?

Od:

Colossus being the one Adult insisting that Vanessa come to the mansion to be checked out and make sure she’s okay.

Logan and Wade settled into each other in the back seat of Dopinder’s car with Ness in the front

Me:

"lo lo fuck." Wade mutters as he pulls back to cup Logan's face. Logan just melts into Wade's grapes and he purrs fucking purrs. LOGAN DIDN'T KNOW HE COULD DO THAT!!

"There is the good kitty I have missed so much."

Od: They’re just in each other’s laps, completely tangled together

Logan just purrs harder to the point he coughs and Wade just laughs delightedly and pepper kisses across Logan's face.

Logan's claws sneak out when Wade pulls back slightly and Wade gasps as he grabbed at Logan's hand. "What??? Metal?! What happened baby??"

Logan just blinks stupidly up at him. "I don't remember." Wade frowns and pulls Logan close

Od: “It’ll be okay. We’re okay. Were together. You’re here. Fuck, I missed you so much. There’s so much I have to tell you.”

"it doesn't matter what happened right now. What matters is your here. We can figure out everything else later."

Od: “Exactly. Fuck, Lo. Can I kiss y-“ just getting cut off by Logan pouncing and kissing him senseless, the two of them laying down in the backseat

Rogue is beyond extatic when Logan comes in with wide wonder filled eyes dragging a man behind him. She knew then this was who the ring was tied to and she wasted no time launching herself at him in excitement.

"YOU DID IT YOU DID IT!! LOGAN YOU FOUND YOUR OTHER HALF!"

Logan just hold her close as he cries silently into her hair before yes he did.

Od: “Omg Lo-Lo! You have a kiddo?! I knew you were Daddy material, both ways~ I’m Wade~”

Rogue is definitely surprised by Wade. She must admit she hadn't expected someone like him to be who Logan had tied himself to. However the way they looked at one another and interacted was undeniable

Jean and Scott are LIVID and discussed because really this? THIS?! Was who Logan had chosen all those years ago??

Od: Wade: Wow. Jealous, judgmental, AND prejudiced. Yall are the whole fucking package ain’t ya.

Rouge does not take kindly to them. She had quickly become super protective of Wade. She had quite a few times tore into them for daring mess with what she had worked for for years

Od: Rogue: He wasn’t yours even then. You do not get to shit all over his happiness!

Rouge: have you ever seen him smile like that??? Have you ever heard him purr??? No? I didn't think so. So why are you plotting against him?

(You might get more later but that's it for now)

[d33pwithinmys0ul]

୨★✧.*party 4 u ✧★.*୧

Jean Kirstein x Reader, one shot

★ recreational drug use, angst, fluff, post break up, kissing, ex boyfriend, insecurity and anxiety

Ik the song is trending but when I tell you it's been a fave with me forever.. this WIP has sat with me for a while, and I changed my mind with a lot of it but hopefully u all still like it! (If I had a nickel for every Jean fic I wrote inspired by a charlixcx song, lol) Who said you can't make corny songfic in 2025??

┈➤here's the ao3 link or read under the cut :)

Jean thought you were the most beautiful he’d ever seen. 

Silver confetti fluttered around you, the echoes of the crowd and thudding bass was overwhelming. You felt weightless and free as you danced in the darkness. The strobe lights made you see spots, highlighting the smoke that spun into the air, and for the briefest moment, everything was fine.

You couldn’t believe you almost didn’t come. 

Hitch barely managed to persuade you to skip your 8 am tomorrow, just so you could all get fucked up tonight. 

You took an Uber so none of the group would have to drive from the pregame near campus to Jean Kirschtein’s obnoxiously large house in the country.

You and Jean had a complicated history—Hitch and Annie didn’t know, because you hated the drama of it all. 

All your freshman year at Paradis State, you were inseparable in puppy love, and so unprepared for the consequences of it. You weren’t the best at expressing your feelings and boundaries, and Jean was eager to please you. It should have worked better, and you tried not to linger on that fact. He was breathtakingly handsome and had lots of friends, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that you eventually just stopped seeing each other. 

Well, you stopped seeing him. 

You practically ghosted Jean when you found out about his weird feelings about Mikasa. You couldn’t unsee his crush whenever he was around her, and it killed you. You weren’t even angry with her for it, since Mikasa was happily infatuated with Eren, though you wished you could tell her plainly that you harbored nothing against her for it. 

You were young and emotional, and let your hurt get the better of you. It didn’t make any sense, and you didn’t even give Jean a chance to explain himself, ever. 

The aftermath was awkward considering how many mutual friends you had, so you just avoided him entirely. You started going to clubs in the next town over instead of bars and parties around campus, and you were content with the new friends you made in Annie and Hitch, despite their connections looping back to the same place. 

You supposed for as long as you lived in Trost, everyone you knew would lead you back to Jean. He was a good guy. You kind of freaked out, and got too embarrassed and proud to go back to him and apologize. 

“C’mon man, are you gonna try to enjoy yourself?” Connie gave him a light punch on the shoulder. 

“I am,” Jean said, irritated, and glanced outside again. “Are you sure she’s coming?”

He had spent the first hour of the evening hovering by the windows. They were tall and wide, so he would have seen you perfectly from the other end of the room, but as soon as he heard that you were coming, he was a wreck. 

He insisted on picking out the decorations instead of letting Sasha take the lead, like she usually did. He couldn’t help himself from the excitement that blossomed in his chest at the idea of seeing you, really seeing you. 

As the others around him began pregaming, Jean really drank. 

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help it. His heart raced all evening, resounding all his longing, begging, willing you through that door. Come to my party. Come to my party.

Jean felt like he was always catching glimpses of you, and no matter how hard he tried to move on, the way you seemed to, there was always a remaining trace of bitterness. You were barely there, yet not close enough for him to properly ignore the way you made him feel.

It was years ago, and should mean nothing. It meant nothing. 

“Look man,” Connie put his hand on Jean’s shoulder, his breath fanning the scent of beer over to his friend. “Just relax! Either y’talk to her, or you don’t. I don’t think you should waste your night being emo about it. Make a decision. Do something instead of moping around.”

Jean shoved his hand away, a little harsher than he intended to. He couldn’t gauge his own strength—or temper–when he got drunk like this. 

“Yeah, I know.”

By the time you arrived at the sizable mansion, up a long winding driveway lined with trees, you were so high, you didn’t give Jean a second thought. 

You walked in with the girls, immediately enamored with the superfluous decorations, the colorful, ambient lighting, and the blasting music. Balloons hung from the ceiling and littered the floor, and it seemed like over a hundred people were crammed into every crevice of the house. 

“What the hell is this party for again?” You yelled to Hitch, despite her face only being a few inches from yours. Her eyes were hazy and distant, as she’d shared some molly with you earlier, the dose she took was far more. 

“Uhh, I think Jean said he just needed a pick me up for the new semester,” she shouted back and slipped her sunglasses over her eyes. “I think it’s pretty.”

“I’m getting jungle juice,” Annie said boredly. She’d taken more shots than any of you, and remained composed like it was nothing. “Come with?” 

Hitch nodded. 

“Y/n? You rolling?” 

“Not yet. I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” you shook your head and gave them an encouraging smile.

“Fine, but if I leave here alone, I’m killing you both,” she stuck her tongue out at you playfully, and gripped Annie’s arm as they went off. 

You smiled and decided to occupy yourself by weaving through the crowd, people watching. 

There were people taking shots, legs in tall boots and short skirts, groups smoking cigs and rolling up by the staircase. A throng of people surrounded the DJ on the raised platform by the living room. 

Your senses were pleasantly heightened, you felt warm and light. The mixture of drugs kept you at ease, though a part of you ached, and seemed to search for a certain familiar face.

You pushed away the thought and made your way across the floor. 

You saw Historia posing as her girlfriend took photos of her, the flash briefly blinding you as you stumbled past. You waved at Connie and Sasha, the former shotgunning a beer as his friend timed him. It was always nice seeing them. 

“Hey Y/n!”

You turned to find a buzzed, cheerful Marco, with a solo cup in hand, and he leaned in for a hug. 

“Hey!” You said, surprised, and squeezed him tight. 

You liked Marco a lot, and despite being Jean’s best friend, he was one of the kindest people to you throughout the past few years.

“I’m great, did you just get here?” He asked. 

“Yeah. Looks like you guys went all out,” you grinned and gestured at the crowded room. If it wasn’t silver or gold, it was sparkling or glowing. 

“It was all Jean’s idea,” Marco rubbed the back of his neck, stumbling over his words. “I dunno. He’s uh– excited. Probably on a second bottle by now.” 

“Oh,” your eyebrows betrayed your concern. “Um, is he alright?”

“It doesn’t seem fair to… sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Marco was pink from the alcohol, and seemed to turn a little redder. “You should enjoy yourself!”

“Well, where is he?” Your eyebrows pinched together. 

The temptation was killing you. Was Marco trying to say that Jean wanted to talk to you? Why else would he suggest it?

“Um, outside, I think,” he gave you an apologetic smile. “Really, he’ll be okay. You should enjoy your night. He sent me away to enjoy mine.”

You swallowed and watched him disappear into the crowd. 

You were fucking out of it. Maybe any mistakes you made tonight could be reasonably excused. Besides, you were friends with Jean long before you fucked things up. 

You made your way through the sea of people and to the back door, an angelic synth swimming in your ears. 

You stepped outside, and shivered from the biting February breeze. 

The pool shone blue in the night, casting a glow that shimmered and shook with the water. It was quieter in the backyard, the thudding music and chatter was muffled and seemed worlds away. 

You braced yourself to see Jean around the corner, or on a chair, but you were completely alone. 

Your head was pounding from the powerful speakers. You took a deep, shuddering breath, allowing yourself to feel. Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten so fucked up, knowing that Jean would be here. You kind of walked into this. Yet, you think you might’ve felt the same sober. That was sadder. At least with this, you could blame it on the drugs. 

Fuck. You couldn’t let yourself spiral and lose it. You felt like shit ruining girl’s nights like this, even if Hitch and Annie were preoccupied elsewhere. 

You sank to your knees by the pool, and took off your heels. You dipped your feet in the water, grateful for the cold, tranquil distraction. You closed your eyes, and took deep breaths. With the muffled crowd and the occasional car passing in the street, the moment felt a little more real. 

Jean was always good at helping you calm down. When you managed to convey the times you were overwhelmed, he was a saint, rubbing your back and keeping you hydrated when you got too high or anxious. 

Tears leaked down your face before you could stop them. You didn’t want to ruin your makeup, after using so much glitter, but your cheeks were wet and your vision blurred. You hadn’t thought about this, or him, in years. 

Did you overreact? You let your jealousy get to the better of you. God, you sucked. Maybe you should have stayed home. Maybe it’s just been too long, or you were high, and lonely, but the idea of Jean holding you close now made your heart ache. 

You heard the back door slide open, spilling more heavenly electronic music into the air until it shut again. 

“Hey.” A familiar voice called your name, nearly cracking. 

“Hey,” you said, hastily wiping your face, staring straight ahead at the water. “Are you alright?”

“I think I should be asking you,” Jean slurred and sat down on the pavement. He had a bottle in his hand, and wore a button down with the sleeves rolled up, his hair tousled and sticking slightly to his forehead from sweat. His legs were crossed, and he leaned down while he spoke, his posture ruined in favor of staying at your eye level. “I di–um..” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Seemed like fun,” you laughed, despite the salty taste in your mouth. “It’s all beautiful, Jean. You always throw one hell of a party.”

His eyes were pained, and it sent a stabbing sensation to your chest. 

“Thanks.” He seemed very tempted to say more, but instead took a swig and passed you the bottle. 

“No I’m good, I’m rolling,” you pushed it back to him. 

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Any.. particular occasion?”

You shrugged. 

“Hitch offered.” You tried not to read too much into his question. You rolled very rarely—partying was always magnified by a little molly every now and then. You likely flattered yourself too much as you wondered if he was thinking you came out tonight to fuck someone, with its reputation as a sex drug. 

“Sounds fun,” he said, jaw tight. “So… why are you out here?”

“Marco kind of sent me,” you laughed. “Obviously, I was too late. Thought you’d be somewhere else by now, and the pool’s nice.”

“Well, here I am,” he said bitterly. He swept a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes and ruining the near-perfect coif. You liked it better that way, messy and long, you didn’t think the perfectly combed look really fit him. 

“How–how are you?” You said lightly. His lashes were so long, perfectly framing his sad eyes, brushing his cheek with every blink. 

“Second semester always sucks,” he shrugged and took another swig. “Thought something extravagant would lighten everyone’s spirits.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled and laughed nervously. You were chewing your lip as you kicked your leg gently against the water, watching the small droplets flick away from you.  “I think it was a great idea. And it’s stunning– inside, by the way. It’s gorgeous.”

There was a trace of a smile on his lips from your compliment. He couldn’t make himself say that it was really all for you. 

Your features were glowing from the light refracting off of the pool, your short dress rode up your thighs, and Jean couldn’t help but stare. He wondered if you sensed it too, the tension—not from the awful history, or the unsaid professions, but the near tangible desire.  

“I’m glad you made it,” he said softly. “It’s really nice to see you.”

“Of course,” you said quickly. You averted your eyes, your hands in your lap. 

The drugs were heightening all your emotions, and all your senses—the tinge of chlorine in the air, mixing with Jean’s familiar scent, the faint thudding of music from inside the house, the cool water against your skin. 

“Um,” your breath was shaky, your hands clenched into fists. “I’m sorry, by the way. A-about freshman year.” You nearly choked on the words as they bubbled out of you. “It’s—I was really dumb and jealous. You’re a great guy, Jean. You’re an amazing, sweet, romantic son of a bitch. You deserve the world.”

You tried not to stare, but it wasn’t like he was returning the favor. You were both shamelessly memorizing each other's features, a mingling of fear, apprehension, and desperation. You felt so wretched, to pretend like he was someone you never loved. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Jean said pathetically. It was all he could manage, despite everything he wanted to say. 

You blushed and tried not to smile too hard. That was more than enough for you. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

You ignored the tossing in your stomach as Jean held the door open, leaking sound and smoke into the air before sliding it shut. 

It was a small, guilty pleasure, feeling him guide you through the mass of people, dancing, thrashing bodies and balloons. 

You found a small opening, nearly thrown together from the crowd. 

You spent the night with your arms at Jean’s shoulders, and his hands at your waist. The strobe lights nearly blinded you, but you couldn’t look away from him. The adoration in his eyes, the curve of his lips. Maybe he was thinking the same thing, that you were both ridiculous, cowardly idiots. Maybe you were just delusional. 

You couldn’t stop yourself when you leaned into him, taking in his scent, yearning to feel his heartbeat, as if you were the only people in the room. It was like time stopped and everyone else faded away when he closed the space between you, his lips warm and rough and they met yours, finally reuniting after all the heartache. 

Jean tasted like home. His hands roamed your body, through your hair, and you clung to him, kissing him and forsaking your breath. It all felt so good, so right.

“Oh my god,” Jean groaned, thrilled by the taste of you, the way you felt against him and in his hands. He tried to be gentler, but he was too excited by your shallow breaths, your impossibly soft skin, your moans urging him to be more and more indecent. 

You nearly stumbled, getting shoulder checked from a nearby dancer, and your tall heels failing you. Jean’s grip at your waist was firm, and he led you to the corner and pinned you against the wall. He kissed you until you gasped for air.

“Uh, should we do something?” Sasha nudged Connie with her elbow as she spotted you both from a distance, making out passionately, for all to see. 

“Are you kidding?” Connie snorted. “They need that shit. I’ll find them an empty closet myself.”

[haoetoile]

sweet revenge - jeon wonwoo

word count: 2,830

genre: smut, serial killer!au, non-idol!au and dark contents

pairing: stalker, serial killer!wonwoo x fem!reader

a/n: i really enjoy reading dark romances and darker fanfics, so i decided to take my first try onto this kind of writing!! this was kind of inspired by haunting adeline (more specifically, the mirror maze scene, ifykyk) and some other books, and i really hope this is not as shitty as it looks for me. btw, it wasn't revised, so lmk if there are any mistakes and i hope you guys enjoy it <3

contains: you messed with wonwoo's sweet revenge, now he has to make a plan to get rid of you as soon as possible. triggers: stalking, mentions to killing, wonwoo is a serial killer and slightly obsessed with reader. smut contains: voyeurism, big cock!wonwoo, names (doll, slut, pretty girl), fingering, oral (m. receiving), public sex,, creampie, and filthy language, slight dumbification if you squint (?). if i missed any warnings, please let me know!

it's been a while since wonwoo first laid his eyes on you; a pretty, smart and kind of naive college student. you two attended the same college, so you'd see him often around the hallways even though you two never actually talked

you were surely really pretty, but that was it. he might've just stared at you once or twice, but there was nothing more about it. well, at least not until you became a pain on his neck

one day, coming back from getting the groceries, you came across a gruesome scene in one of the dark alleys from your block. a tall man, wearing all black, covered by a cap, a mask and a hoodie, carried a corpse. you wanted to scream, but you got paralyzed instead, he remained unaffected by your presence, not considering the possibility of you reporting him - after all, it wasn't like you could see his face or anything that would make him recognizable

or maybe he thought so. until now, all of his murders had been considered just isolate cases, no one suspected a thing or who could've done this, but when he saw that murder, the one you had witnessed, being announced on tv, and theories surrounding it that linked that murder with the other ones, - after all, the victims all had a pattern: rich politicians who approved a specific project for planning a new area in changwon - his blood boiled. wonwoo just couldn't understand how could you be such a pesky little thing and ruin his plans on being unnoticed

well, he had to think about something. he had to do something. he couldn't just let a random college girl interrupt his sweet, sweet revenge, and neither the cops. so that's why he started stalking you

he wasn't counting on the fact he would start feeling something other than hatred bubbling inside him whenever he'd think about you, he never thought he'd start desiring you. but at the end of the day, it'd be just the best of both worlds for him - he'd have his way with a hot girl, kill her and get his revenge, and would also mislead the cops onto thinking about the changwon incident; the one that made him an orphan

once again, he stood in the shadows, covered by some big trees that were perfect to hide his strong, 6ft frame. your neighborhood wasn't crowded so it was even better, as no one would notice his present around as he looked up into your window. you looked so perfect, so pretty dolling yourself up to sleep, your pretty silk nightgown left little to imagination, and he loved every single detail of it

it was one of those nights, your parents weren't at home, and you were feeling yourself, so it wasn't long before he caught you on your bed, legs spread out as a small bullet vibrador teased your delicate folds. your brows were furrowed in pleasure, and when you pushed your pink lacy panties to the side, he couldn't help but start rubbing his hand in the front of his black jeans, wondering if you'd have this same expressions if it was him who was pushing those cute panties to the side, if if was his fingers that were teasing you

you started fucking yourself with the small object, letting out the sweetest moans wonwoo ever heard, and it wasn't long before he gave in to his desires once again, pulling out his length from its confine, his gaze still burning on your delicate figure

he watched as your rhythm gradually increase, your moans getting more frantic by each passing moment, as his thumb gently grazed along the slit of his cock, making his entire body jolt with pleasure. his hand tightened the grip on the shaft, as his mind wandered once again to how tight and wet your cunt would feel it he was the one fucking you, making sure to ruin you and leave you too dumb to even be able to run away from him once he's had his way with you

once you had your orgasm, wonwoo couldn't help but feel his balls getting tighter, soon enough blowing out his load all over his hand, his mind making up the decision he had to do something soon. very, very soon

[...]

finally halloween night, the perfect day for wonwoo to be able to execute his plan. your friends had invited you for a halloween party, and you were surely excited to go, even if it was in a more dangerous side of the city – to them, actually, it was even more appealing as it fitted the vibe perfectly

the party's location actually would be even more helpful for wonwoo's plans, as it'd be hosted at an abandoned mansion that was placed on an also abandoned neighborhood, surrounded by a forest. wonwoo wouldn't need much to make you disappear just like he had planned, that place was literally the best trap ever so he could get his sweet, sweet revenge on you for disturbing his plans

you felt a shiver down your spine as soon as your friend's car parked near the party's location, as if your body could sense some kind of danger, but you brushed it off, thinking it might've been just because of the mansion's atmosphere. but it wasn't

the sensation was only getting worse as you tried to enjoy the party as much as your friends were, the sense of unease and something more, as if someone was watching you, wouldn't go away. it was making you anxious, you felt like you needed to run away, like there was actually danger, but you kept quiet, you didn't wanted to ruin your friend's night at all and you also needed to go out for a bit

[...]

you fixed the black leotard and the bunny ears a last time before leaving the bathroom, ready to find your friends once again in the crowded room. just as you were passing by, you felt the same sense of unease again, of being watched, a shiver running along your spine, but no one seemed to be around. you thought you were going crazy

except for the fact you weren't. wonwoo followed you around the party all the time, taking in your appearance as you wore a ravishing playboy bunny costume, your ass barely covered by the short shorts you chose not to be half-naked in just that tight leotard, so tight wonwoo couldn't help but stare at the shape of your gorgeous tits and how they'd felt with his lips around it — it wasn't like he wouldn't get some fun with a pretty thing like you before making his plans work perfectly

you couldn't find your friends, so you grabbed a bit of a watermelon vodka drink that was being served and went all the way to the backyard, where a few people seemed to be smoking and others making out. a tall, handsome man dressed as joker approached you, well, it wasn't exactly a costume, as he only had a mask on and a suit, but you recognized the character anyway

"what's a pretty thing like you doing here, all alone?" his deep voice sent tingles all over your body "it's kind of dangerous to be here by yourself... haven't you heard the rumors that this mansion's abandoned, kitten?"

"i was just looking for my friends, but they're nowhere to be found, so i just came here for some fresh air" you answered, as oblivious as you were to his true intentions. wonwoo chuckled softly at your answer, loving the way his plan was going as smooth as it could, and he decided to take off his mask

the sight of his handsome appearance without the mask made you softly gasp, — fact that he pretended not to notice, but definitely did — he was extremely hot and totally your type, as if he came straight out one of your dreams

"mind if i keep you company, then?" he asked, and you shook your head while watched him light up a cigarette "want one?"

"no thanks, i don't smoke" you answered, watching him take off a long drag. for some reason, it was insanely hot to watch this

"so, what's your name, pretty girl?" god, the way the nickname rolled out of his tongue made something inside you flip completely

"____. and you are...?" you waited for his answer

"call me wonwoo, sweetheart"

[...]

you didn't knew how, maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe something entirely his, but you were completely drawn to wonwoo. sure, he was tall, handsome and from the brief conversations you two had, you could already tell he was insanely intelligent, but you still weren't sure why something about him had you longing for me

you weren't sure either on how or why did you started dancing with him, or let him lead you to the very same woods you'd found eerie earlier that day so you two could made out. yet, it felt so right to have those lips pressed against yours, to have his tongue hitting all the right spots inside your mouth and leave you whimpering against his and your cunt throbbing for more

his lips moved all the way down to your neck, savoring the sweet taste of your skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses there that made you gasp in such a cute way, that wonwoo thought he could get a boner with just that. you, on the other hand, could already feel moisture pooling down your core in a way that made your panties stick to your skin uncomfortably

"okay, doll. want to be a good girl for me, yeah?" he breathe out against your neck, and you whimpered at the contact of his hot breath against your already sensitive skin, nodding instantly. the sight of you being so submissive and eager to please him made wonwoo harden immediately "that's what i've thought... why don't you star by being a good girl and getting on your knees for me?"

you were more than happy to oblige it, dropping to your knees on the spot, not caring more about the eerie environment or the fact you two were out there in public. you saw him undo his belt, and a shiver ran down your spine as you imagined how big his cock must be — you just knew it was big

after you helped him undo his buttons and free himself from its confines, you saw his hardened cock stand tall and proud, ready for your attention. you gulped, not expecting it to be as big as it really was, but you leaned in eagerly anyway, ready to please wonwoo

you wrapped your lips against his tip, savoring the bittersweet taste on your lips, and he groaned at the sensation, hands flying instantly to your hair, dropping your bunny ears on the process. the contact of his hands with your hair made you bolder, as you bobbed your head more, relaxing your throat so you could accommodate more of his length inside your mouth

"fuck, what a good little mouth" he let out a deep moan, and you felt more moisture pool down your legs at the sound of his voice

you got bolder in your movements, bobbing your head all the way down, using your hands to pleasure him, and going all you could to make him feel as good as possible. wonwoo was loving you eager you were to please him, and it only made him hornier, thinking about how pathetic, and yet, still hot, you were like this

it wasn't long until he came inside your mouth, releasing his hot, thick seed right down your throat. he watched you gag and struggle a bit to swallow. he dressed up again, watching you look at him with doe eyes, ready to do whatever he wanted next, and the sight alone was enough to make him horny again

"doll, can you get up for me?" he watched as you eagerly got on your feet again, already waiting for his next command "such a good girl" he purred, getting closer and closer, making your back press against a tree

he shoved a hand inside your short shorts. wonwoo's skilled fingers were fast enough to pull your leotard and panties to the side, a groan escaping his mouth once he found you already wet and ready for him

"got this wet for me just from sucking cock, hm? such a nasty little girl" he tsked, smirking mockingly. you opened your legs a bit more, wanting more contact "look at you, already demanding for more..."

"wonwoo, please" you whimpered. his middle finger rubbed through your folds until they stopped at your sensitive hole, slipping just a bit to gather your juices, smearing it all over your nether lips teasingly

you mewled, and earned a dark chuckle from the tall man in front of you, who decided to do it again before finally stopping at your clit, drawing figures of eight slowly, just to get you worked up

"you're really a slut, huh? getting off on fucking in public like this, knowing anyone could pass by these woods and see you letting a barely unknown man finger your juicy cunt like this" he teased you, leaning in just to bite and suck a certain spot on your neck that made your toes curl

suddenly, two fingers entered your cunt, and you were not able to surpass the loud moan that escaped your lips. luckily, there was no one around to hear it, but the possibility of being seen made your cunt throb in a way that was definitely noticed by wonwoo

"what was that, doll? do you like being fucked in public like that?" he teased, pumping his fingers faster. you were already so lost in pleasure, that you didn't even heard him, too worked up on his fingers

wonwoo was determined in making you come undone, scissoring them, thrusting them upwards to find your g-spot, rubbing his thumb over your clit, all he could to get you off as soon as possible. your moans were getting more and more erratic by each passing second, your thighs were quivering, and your hips were moving on their own now. you were too close to snap

with a sudden thrust from his fingers, the coil on your stomach snapped, the feeling got unbearable, and you let go to the sensation. wonwoo let you ride down your orgasm until its very last wave before pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his mouth to taste your juices

"you taste like fucking candy" he groaned, getting closer so he could connect your lips to his again. you could taste your own essence inside his mouth, but you were still too horny to care about it

he shoved your shorts down and quickly ripped your leotard and panties to get them out of the way, and then took his own length out its confines again before finally plunging it into you without a warning

fuck, he made you feel so full. his cock was hitting all the right spots inside you, caressing your cervix in a way that was certainly too much but you couldn't help but want more. the sensation alone made you moan desperately

one of his hands grabbed your hips with a bruising strength, while the other roamed over your body, as if it was memorizing its shape. when they finally found one of your breasts, he squeezed it hard while thrusting harder and faster, determined on making you as cockdrunk as possible

god, you looked so stupid on his cock already that he could just kill you if he wanted to. but he didn't wanted to waste the opportunity to fuck this sweet, juicy cunt and to hear those delicious moans

his hips slammed against yours even faster, the wet, lewd sounds you two were producing were echoing through the deserted woods, along the sounds of your needy moan and whimpers and his deep moans and groans. his tip was constantly hitting your g-spot again in a bruising pace, making you see stars — wonwoo was definitely too much

"fuck, such a tight little cunt." he groaned "been waiting for too long to fuck you"

you felt like cumming already, but you tried to hold your own orgasm so you could wait for him as well

"such a good pussy for me" he moaned

you could feel his cock throb inside you and knew he wouldn't last longer, but so do you. so when the sensation became unbearable again, you just let it go, cumming all over his cock again. the way your cunt squeezed him made wonwoo cum as well, shooting his load inside you

he looked at your disheveled form in awe, and suddenly, an idea came into his own mind. maybe killing you wasn't the best he could do to plan his own revenge... instead, he could make you all his

[buck-star]

The lion king

A tattoo covering leads to something unexpected — something beautiful, that neither Bucky nor Steve had in mind then the smaller man walked in to get his tattoo covered.

Pairing: TattooArtist!Bucky Barnes x Pre-Serum!Steve Rogers

Wordcount: 2.458 Words

Warnings/Tags: Tattoo Artist au, Strangers to lovers, not much knowledge about tattoos, possessiveness, old tattoo as kinda mark, insults, angst, protection, fluff

Authors Note: I went through my Bingo cards and picked out some prompts, so here you are. Hope you enjoy. Divider made by me.

Events: WinterShield Bingo [G4 | Pre-Serum Steve | @wintershieldbingo], Stucky Bingo [SB6010 | O5 | AU: Tattoo Shop | @stuckybingo], Steve Rogers Bingo [SB4054 | C4 | Pre-serum Steve | @steverogersbingo], 4B-Bingo [4B 010 | B2 | Strangers to lovers | @avengers-assemble-bingo], Bucky Barnes Bingo [BO23 | K1 | Protection | @buckybarnesbingo]

Masterlist | Stucky Masterlist

The small bell above the door of the tattoo shop rings, sending the soft noise through the room and getting the attention of the tattoo artist who’s leaning against the wall while talking to another man.

His ocean blue eyes immediately land on the small man who walks with a lowered head and shaky steps into the tattoo shop. “Yeah, send it my way, then we will get ya dick that tattoo, Tommy,” the owner of the shop laughs and pats the Tommy guy's shoulder before focusing on the blond man who walks over to the counter. “Ya can come over here, workin’ along today.”

The smaller man looks up, nodding at the Tommy guy who walks out of the shop before he turns his gaze to the brunette owner. “O-oh, okay, sorry.”

“No need,” Bucky says and sits down on his stool, nodding toward the chair that’s next to him for the other man to sit down. The blond-haired man walks over, sitting down at the foot of the chair. His head lowered once more, his blue eyes focused on his sweating hands. “Ya look pretty tense. Some kind of bet that ya here?”

Steve shakes his head; he takes a shaky breath. He slowly looks up, using one of his hands to run over his forehead and wipe a few strands out of his face. “N-not really. It’s just— I got a tattoo, and I wanted to ask if you could— can you remove it or put another motive above it?”

“Both are possible; we can remove it in a few sessions. But we can also cover it with whatever ya would like,” Bucky nods, moving closer with the chair to sit in front of Steve. “Where’s the tattoo?”

“Uhm– m-my chest, left chest,” Steve mumbles, pointing with a finger to the place where the tattoo is underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. “It’s— not that big of a tattoo, but it’s, uhm, I don’t like it.”

“That’s fine, let's have a look, yeah? Is it a new one, or have you had it for a while already?” Bucky asks, keeping his attention on the smaller man while he tries to keep his voice as assuring and soft as possible.

Bucky pushes both of his thick, tattooed arms up on his thighs, waiting for Steve to take off his shirt so he can have a look at the tattoo.

“Can you take off your shirt?” Bucky asks when the other man doesn’t move except rubbing his sweaty hands over his pants. “There’s no one who will watch, if that’s what would make ya uncomfortable.”

“Y-yeah, sorry,” Steve mumbles, feeling like an idiot. Of course, he has to take off his shirt to let the other man see the tattoo and remove or cover it. He reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head to place it in his lap, his head immediately lowering.

Bucky moves closer, taking a better look at the tattoo. He frowns slightly, tilting his head before he leans back and nods to himself. “It’s not made in a tattoo shop, is it?”

Steve shakes his head, earning a soft hum from the owner of the shop. “Is it that bad?”

“Mhm?” Bucky looks up, smiling softly. The tattoo isn’t bad at all, but it looks like it’s only inked on the surface of his skin. But also the small scars around it, it didn’t heal the way it should have, probably the lack of care for it — the lack of knowledge about care for tattoos. “It’s not bad, but as a pro, you notice when it’s not made by a professional. The ink isn’t as deep in your skin as artists usually make it, and you have those scars around it, often through lack of care for the tattoo after getting it.”

“Oh, my– It’s not made by someone who is a professional; I don’t even know if he ever did a tattoo before,” Steve mumbles, a soft smile caressing his lips as he looks at the tattoo on his chest. His smile fades slightly, his fingers tracing the black letters that say ‘B.R’s property’. Bucky nods slightly, leaning back on his chair before sighing softly.

“So, we could remove it, or we could cover it; what do you prefer?” He asks softly, a soft smile spreading on his lips when he watches the smaller man in front of him. Steve shrugs, interlacing his fingers in his lap while looking around for a moment. When his eyes settle back on the thick man in front of him, he shrugs again. “Do you like any specific things? Like Disney or animals?”

Steve nods, smiling softly. “I do; the one I like the most is The Lion King.”

“How about Simba and Nala then? Or the paws?” Bucky suggests, leaning over to a counter to pull out a small book. The front shows a bunch of tattoos, and when he opens it, Steve's mouth almost drops open. There are so many possibilities of tattoos. Bucky opens a side with a bunch of different lion motives, also the two he mentioned before. He turns it toward the other man to let him have a better look. “These are some of the options, or you can have a look at the other motives. Maybe think about it again, if you want?”

“I would- I would like to do it today,” Steve mumbles. “And covering sounds good, I guess.”

Bucky nods, noticing the uncertainty in Steve's voice when it comes to the covering but the determination to get rid of the current motive. He keeps holding the book in front of the other man; Steve stares at the pages, sighing softly before he points at a tattoo that shows two paws next to one another. ‘The king and the queen’ are written above it.

“Could you change the ‘queen’ to ‘king’ too? I'm not that much into women,” Steve asks, his cheeks immediately heating up. Bucky chuckles low in his throat and nods; he places the book to the side.

“Definitely, get comfy; I will get the motiv ready, and then we can start. Do you want a drink or a snack?” Bucky offers, getting off the chair while he walks to a small fridge, his eyes never leaving the smaller man.

“Water, if you have some, please,” Steve mutters, leaning back on the chair. Bucky nods and gets a bottle of water out of the fridge. He moves back to the other man, hands him the bottle, and gets everything ready for the tattoo.

The small shop is filled with the voices of the two of them, and so is laughter. The more Steve is around the other man, the more he relaxes and finds it easier to get into a conversation with Bucky. While Bucky started a few topics to help Steve calm down, he now smirks at the small man who explains one after another thing to the tattoo artist.

The bell above the door of the shop is audible once again, and before Bucky could greet whoever walked into the small shop, he feels Steve tensing. The smaller man pushes himself further into the chair; his eyes widen as he stares at the person who walked in.

“Thought I would find you everywhere, but- Are you seriously letting MY tattoo be covered by what, your little fantasy, baby motives?” the man says roughly, walking further into the room and toward the other two men. “Man, you can stop with that tattoo; my boyfriend thought it would be fun to make me mad, huh?”

Bucky turns around, looking at the broad man who stands a few feet away from them. The mat obviously scares the smaller man; Steve is curling himself together on the chair, trying to hide his naked chest and the new tattoo on his skin.

“I don't think it's your decision what he’s doing with his body, don’t you think so?” Bucky asks, his voice remaining soft, but there is a dangerous edge when he speaks. The other man walks closer to him, a smirk causing his lips to curl upwards, but his eyes are as cold as ice when Brock looks at the two others.

“It's mine, and he knows. He just has to be a fucking manwhore,” Brock growls, taking another step closer to Steve. Bucky pushes himself off the chair, blocking the other man's path. Steve always thought Brock was already impressive with his muscles and size, but with Bucky in front of him, he looks pretty small. Bucky stands straight, his thick muscles tense when Brock dares to take another step closer.

“A man whore, you say? Damn, I didn’t know I would have such an amazing customer today. Instead of wanting a tattoo, he's here to get fucked, huh?” Bucky jokes, his voice holding no amusement, nor does his expression. Brock's expression darkens further; he huffs before trying to get past the muscular man in front of him.

Bucky grasps him by the collar of his shirt, a chuckle escaping him as Brock tries to push his hand away. The brunette grip tightens even further around the fabric, and he pulls the other man a bit closer to him.

“I better not hear another word from you about Steve being a whore or anything degrading; you get that?” Bucky growls, his tone sharp while he glares at the other man with a dark and dangerous expression. Brock nods, swallowing thickly when he feels the strength of the tattoo artist; it's not just thick muscles from some drugs; those muscles are really trained. “Good boy, now you move your ass out of my studio.”

He pushes the other man backward to the exit, watching him intently. Brock glares at the taller man but does as he is told; he leaves the tattoo shop without another word. With a soft sigh, Bucky runs his thick fingers through his brown locks, turning back to Steve, who's still pulling his knees tightly against his chest, his blue eyes widened.

“B.R., I guess, huh?” Bucky says, his voice still holding the rough edge, but he softly calms down. “Are you okay?”

Steve nods, taking a shaky breath before he slowly relaxes. “Brock, yes. He's my ex-boyfriend, but- uhm, he’s still mad that we broke up. Thank you, Buck.”

“No problem. Manwhore, he says. Did you cheat on him? You don't look like the guy who would cheat on someone,” Bucky mumbles while getting back to work. He runs his rough fingers along Steve's chest, making him shiver before he finishes the motive.

“No cheating, but he thought I did. And then he got pretty possessive and aggressive. Don’t get me wrong, I love my boyfriend being all possessive but not aggressive; protective suits better,” Steve says, a small smile creeping back on his lips while he watches Bucky. The brunette nods, his tongue poking between his lips, and Steve notices that Bucky always does it when he's concentrated, either poking his tongue out or into his cheek with that sweet frown on his face. “You shouldn't frown too much; when you do it every time you work, you will get wrinkles there.”

Bucky looks up, a smug grin on his plump lips. “Do you watch me? But yeah, isn't it easy not to when you’re so concentrated? I'm glad I stopped biting my lips bloody.”

“But now you poke your tongue out or through your cheek,” the smaller man giggles, earning a raised eyebrow from Bucky. The brunette chuckles, leaning back slightly to have a better look at Steve. “I-I’m not– I’m not staring at you.”

Bucky laughs, rough but raw. “Of course, you don’t. You didn’t stare, Stevie; you studied, huh?” Bucky teases with a poke into the smaller man’s side. Steve giggles, wiggling a bit before he leans back again for Bucky to do his work. “Mhm, of course. So, sit still; we have to use some healing cream pads and foil to fix it. It helps your skin heal easier without scars after.”

“Thank you, Buck, really. Not just for tattooing…” Steve says, smiling softly while his heart beats start racing once the thick man flexes his muscles to lean over and get the healing cream pads he was talking about. “Also for not asking any questions about the tattoo or my decision to cover it. And for your amazing suggestion for the new tattoo. But also for the help with Brock, it really means a lot.”

“Don’t worry, it’s my job, isn’t it?” Bucky laughs, placing some of the pads on Steve’s chest before fixing it with some tape and foil. “And with Brock, I can’t let this ass hurt the sweet man sitting in front of me here, can I?”

Steve blushes, shaking his head. Of course, Bucky could have ignored it. But Steve found out a bit about the other man already, and one thing he knows about Bucky is that he protects people he cares for, and he hates violence.

“Uhm, can I, maybe, make it up to you?” Bucky’s just about to open his mouth. He wants to tell the smaller man that there’s nothing to make up, since Steve didn’t do anything, but the smaller man interrupts him. “I insist., please.”

“To make it up or to get to know me better?” The brunette jokes, grinning at Steve, who blushes again. For whatever reason, the brunette can read Steve like a book, and they just had some fun talks while he got his tattoo.

“Maybe– how about both? I-I mean if you’re interested, I just really enjoyed our talk. And I would love to… get to know you better,” Steve confesses, earning a low growl from Bucky. His eyes narrow slightly, unsure if he said something wrong until he notices the grin on Bucky’s face.

“I should have changed the ‘B.R.’ to ‘Bucky Barnes',” he chuckles, causing the smaller man to blush once again. “You’re adorable when you blush; I can’t even keep my eyes off of you. How about the small coffee shop? Bet you would love that.”

“I do, and I would love to, but let me pay for the tattoo first.”

“You’re not going to pay anything for my mark on your skin. Now take off your shirt and swing your pretty ass off the chair to join me for a coffee,” the brunette grins. He cleans a bit, watching the other man intensely with his ocean blue eyes. Already planning for the perfect place to share their first kiss, probably in the small corner of the little shop, curled into the booth, cuddled in one another with their favorite sweets.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @rnurse-kole @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @irisk12 @lilyalone@iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @princesscore-angel @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @bamitzzsam @feynightlight @ethanhoewke @hisredheadedgoddess28 @bamitzzsam @princesscore-angel @thiquefunlover63 @casa-boiardi @kandis-mom @armystay89 @blackhawkfanatic @queen-honeybee-stories [add yourself]

[w0rmss]

hiii i just recently found your page and recently got into the whole batfam (?) fandom! if you’re still taking requests, could you do dick grayson x reader where they knew eachother back from circus days and before he got adopted, and they recently met up like years later by nightwing saving reader. later ensures “random” run ins with dick grayson

Absolutely thank you so much for the request. No joke this is so like my oc angie and her relationship with dick.

Tw: attempted mugging and mentions of trauma borderline stalking

Enjoy

Nightwing stood atop a building looking down at the city below. It had been a busy night and he'd finally gotten a chance to breath when a scream came from down below. One that sounded too familiar. Quickly the vigilante dropped from the roof to the street where the scream had come. He was met with a man holding a knife to someone's throat. Someone he knew. Someone he used to have a crush on when he was a kid. You. Dick jumped into action disarming the man and knocking him to the ground.

Once the mugger was in cuffs and your belongings back to you did he take the time to take a good look at you. You looked nearly the same as you did when you were both kids. Handing your things back to you Nightwing smiles. "Are you new to town." He asks hand rubbing the back of his neck trying to act cool. "Yes I am. Just moved in." You reply still slightly shaken from the whole incident. Dick nods. "Would you... want me to walk you home make sure you get there safe." He offers. He hopes you see it as him just being a concerned hero and while that is part of it he also wants to find out where you are so he can 'bump into you'as Richard Grayson.

And that is exactly what happens. One evening he just so happens to be passing your apartment while you were coming back from a walk. You both catch up briefly and move on. But at night his watching you seeing your routine and soon he's no better in the day. He can't help it really. Dick knows its wrong but you're the only person who knew him before his life got flipped. Before he became the traumatised little boy wonder.

Over the weeks you both happen to bump into eachother. Soon they become planned hang outs till eventually it becomes a date. Dick sits at the restaurant across from you. You smile softly and take is hand across the table. "Sorry I didn't reach our or even try. I just... what happened was hard on me. I couldn’t imagine what it was like on you." Dicks smile softens to one mixed with pain. "It's okay... its good to have you back though. It's good to... be with you again." He brings your hand up and kisses the back of it before slowly setting it back down.

Dick was happy to have you back something someone so important and so connected to his old life was the best thing to happen to him in a while. He was glad to be with you here. To hold you when the night ended back at his. To grow your relationship back up again and expanded it further. Even if is means were not 100% perfect he knew the out come would be and more.

Hope this was okay and I hope you guys enjoyed

feel free to request I love getting them.

I try my best to upload daily but sometimes that doesn't happen I'm very sorry when it doesn't I do try

Have a wonderful day night afternoon etc