#I wish the furniture wasn’t all white but it is! it is.

[whentherewerebicycles]

this is a horribly lit photo and virtually everything else is going to change (bedspread, art, getting rid of that black lamp). but is the dark headboard better or worse than the beige one below:

[chososlilprincess]

pt. 2 of Virgin Choso!! if you havent read the first part read it here and part 3

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Virgin Choso who looks at your abandoned bag in the corner of his small living room. Standing in the little apartment he moved into recently, chewing on his lip anxiously. Should he text you? you’d realize it was gone eventually, and when you give him a call to tell him, he could pretend he hadn’t seen it. It’s not because he doesn’t want to talk to you, the opposite really, but hes scared. He’d probably be weird and act awkward if you two were ever alone, if you came to retrieve your bag from his home.

You and Yuji had been at his apartment earlier that day to help him move his furniture around. He’d heard the doorbell ring and when you had finally ascended to the top floor were he resided, Yuji had given him a brotherly hug, patting his back. And you,

You.

it’s the second time he sees you after he realised what he felt for you, and it’s getting increasingly hard to be around you. Especially when you keep putting on those adorable little outfits. He can’t focus, he can hardly breathe. Yuji, that idiot, knows that fact better than even Choso himself, seeing right through his brother. Which is why the boy had invited you today to help him. To torture Choso, to make him crack.

But Choso wasn’t weak. He could hold his composure. Even when Yuji walks past him and whispers, trying to hold his laugh, “maybe cut back on the staring a little today, she might actually notice this time,”

And now he’s here, all his furniture in the right places, but your bag in the wrong. You’d went to the gym he remembers, which is why you had it with you.

When his phone rings a minute later, his heart starts beating faster, already? he calms down a little when he sees it’s Yuji who’s calling, but his ease is cut short when he answers.

“hello?”

“hi Choso, it’s me,” its you. He can hear people talking and laughing in the background, probably you and Yuji’s new friends from your Jujutsu College. “my phone went out so i borrowed Yuji’s to call you,” you say sweetly, and before you can continue, a voice way louder than yours comes through the line, “she forgot her bag on purpose!!” Yuji shouts from next to you, before someone in the group can shut him up,

“not true…” you say awkwardly and laugh “but uh, is it okay if i come and get it tomorrow after my shift? it’s gonna be a little late though, sorry for the trouble,” he can feel that tugging in his heart, he’s excited to see you again, even if it’s only because of your forgetfulness. “it uh…it is no trouble,” he says quickly,

“thank you Choso…ill see you tomorrow,” and with that you hang up, and Choso is left with the silence of his apartment and the bustle outside of tokyo city.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

He’s sitting on the couch with your bag propped up next to him, did you really leave your bag here on purpose? why would you have done that? did you want to see him too? he sighs, wishful thinking.

He stands up from the couch and the movement makes your unzipped bag fall to the floor with a thud.

He looks to the floor, bends down to put the bag back when-

oh. fuck.

Laying on the ground is your used gym clothes, a big hoodie, some shorts, a top and also…

a pair of your used panties.

he freezes, his dick jumping at the sight alone. Theyre baby blue, with a little white bow on the waistband. fuck. no. don’t.

he picks them up.

He’s only just learned about sex, about relationships and about…pleasuring himself. And he’s already a massive pervert.

what would you think of him if you knew? if you could see him right now? desperately jerking himself off on the couch, whines and groans spilling from his lips, drool sliding down his mouth. your perfect little panties wrapped around his hard cock.

He watches as his pre cum makes a mess in them. he wants to make a mess with you. He wants to see you wearing nothing else than those same panties around him,

he takes them away from his dick and brings them to his nose. And when he breathes in the scent of your pussy, He cums so hard his mind turns blank.

And it hits him when he comes down, that hes disgusting. And your panties are ruined.

how can you make him feel like this. Without any cursed energy. without beating him into the ground. youre just existing, And that fact alone makes him feel so…weak? why does he feel weak?

He decides then that he needs to tell you, Its been building up in his chest for months. He needs to tell you that hes in love with you and that he would do anything for you.

he needs to tell you he wants to bury his face in your little cunt.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

thx to everyone whos been leaving notes<33 part 3 coming!!

[princessbrunette]

HOLD ME, KISS ME ♡

♪ the little dippers — forever ♪

WANTED: JOHN BOOKER ROUTLEDGE - SUSPECTED MURDER - $1000 REWARD - DANGEROUS! IF SPOTTED DO NOT APPROACH!

pairing: outlaw!johnb + sheltered!reader ⋆₊⊹♡

synopsis: your wishes come true when a beautiful boy is found sleeping peacefully in your barn. much to his surprise, you don’t care about who he is or what he has or hasn’t done — you just want to ensure he stays forever.

cw: mentions of prayer, religion and god (for plot purpose) reader has two parents, western!au, innocence kink, slight manipulation, mentions of crime, breeding kink, smut ♡

“Please deliver me a man, save me from this loneliness. Make him kind, and strong, and handsome. I vow to make him the happiest man alive.”

Your forehead rests against your clasped hands where you kneel beside your bed, speaking out loud as there was no one else to speak to. Your parents had gone on a trip for two weeks, leaving you in charge of the farmhouse all by your lonesome.

Isolated didn’t feel like the correct term. You were grateful, happy to live off the fat of your father’s land in the middle of nowhere, but sometimes you wished you had someone to share it with. Someone your own age who was there to see you. You had become the perfect host, thrilled when your parents would bring home guests once in a blue moon. You’d tie ribbons in your hair and pick the perfect dress and set the table like your mother taught you. You often imagined setting the table for a family of your own.

Your own farm house. The thought sent you off to sleep each night, walking through the home in your mind as if it were really real, feeling the creaking of the painted wooden porch beneath your feet as you enter, the distant cooing of your baby being comforted by your husband in the next room. White shabby-chic panels across the walls with oak furniture and knitted throw pillows and lots and lots of warm light. The kitchen table would have the perfect lace floral embroidered table cloth draped across it which you’d serve the heartiest dinners on each night. The babies room would be painted mint green, no— maybe pastel yellow, with handmade toys and a music box that played your song and oh, the master bedroom… where you and your husband rest your head would be flooded with natural light. A haven. All yours.

The details to the decoration often changed, new inspiration plucked from the papers that father would bring home and new favourite colours integrating themselves into your home plans but one thing remained the same each time. Your husband. He never had a face, but it wasn’t important. He was warm, strong without having to prove just how macho he was, kind— you could feel his love from the next room on. That was all you really wanted. You could forget the house, forget the land, live in a barn for all you care — you just wanted to experience a love like the ones in the fairytale books stacked high in your room.

It had been a week already of this routine you’d grown used to. You wake up, feed yourself and then the chickens, come inside, clean yourself and then the house, paint, crotchet or read — however the mood takes you, eat lunch, tend to the crops, brush the horses, maybe milk a cow, come inside and cook dinner, bathe, think about your dream husband and grind your wet messy cunt into a pillow, feel guilty, beg for forgiveness and then sleep. It was an easy life, and you couldn’t complain— but you couldn’t help feel the world had more to offer.

Your mother often told you that gifts from above come when you least expect it, you just had to keep your eyes open. You always wondered how one might find these gifts with no idea where to look.

Your gift arrived bright and early the next morning.

Well, not technically as early as it should have been, infact you probably nearly missed it. The roosters calls at 6AM each morning, but on that very day you had decided to sleep in. A few hours wouldn’t kill them, you think as you pull a plush white pillow to lay over your ear— it’s not like the chickens would starve.

At 11:45AM, you stumble bare foot onto the grass outside, setting out on your walk to the barn a little way up the land. Your pert nipples harden, awakened by the cool morning breeze as the thin white fabric of your nightdress blows in the wind. With the sunlight shining directly on it, it was sure to be totally and utterly see through— and you suppose that was one upside to living in the middle of nowhere, yards upon yards from civilisation. No one would see you. Sigh.

You feed the chickens, totally blind before it even occurs to you that anything might be astray. Infact, you don’t even seem to notice that the barn door was left ajar, as opposed to how you usually leave it bolted by a wooden slab to prevent the animals from wandering off or being massacred by foxes. You suppose that’s the price you pay for sleeping in, you live in dreamworld for the next few hours.

The Earth seems to stop turning for a moment when you see him.

You’re more curious than anything, wide eyed, holding your breath as to be totally silent despite having been humming and speaking to the chickens only a moment prior. You tiptoe through the hay, shards of straw sprouting between your painted toes and pin-needling your sole as you draw closer to the man. A fallen angel, your first thought.

He’s half curled up onto his side in the hay behind the stable for your white pony. He has thick-ish arms crossed over his chest, his hat laying over his face seeming to be serving as a purpose to block out the light. You figure as you hadn’t woken up him before, a closer inspection couldn’t hurt. Unhurriedly, you sink down into a squat beside him, knees pointed upwards and feet taking your balance. A real man, in your barn? It couldn’t be. You chew on your bottom lip, goggle-eyed and inquisitive as you cautiously lift the hat away from his face.

He doesn’t wake and you’re for some reason thankful. It gives you time to observe him, the breath all but knocked from your body as you take in just how beautiful he is. He was perfect, and just like what you were hoping for when you wished to be delivered a husband.

Dark eyelashes kissing at the rim of his closed eyes, pale lips and freckles, sunkissed across his nose. Your eyes trail over and across him, now with his face in mind taking in account what he looks like as a whole. You were still in disbelief, a real man sleeping in your barn. But then again, as your eyes skim lower and you notice the blood seeping through his shirt over his stomach — you wonder if he was sleeping. Surely he wasn’t dead? Only God could be so cruel to deliver you the perfect man without a pulse.

So, you press two cold fingers to his neck, searching for the rhythmic beats signifying life. As soon as you do so, the man jolts awake — wide brown eyes meeting yours.

“Jesus.”

This is where the stare off commences— you were sat in a squat giving him a straight shot up your night dress with dome like eyes and parted lips, observing him like he was some sort of alien life form that had happened upon your barn infront of your very eyes. Your chest rises and falls, and his gender fails to betray him as his eyes fall there for a moment, subconsciously noticing the way your bare tits strain against the thin fabric with each exhale. Somewhere in the back of his mind he can’t help but acknowledge that you’re a pretty thing, totally his type. In any other scenario, he might’ve seen you at a local tavern and introduced himself, getting you tipsy and loose, making you giggle beneath his soft gaze and coarse hands in some dimly lit booth before realising he’s far too respectful to take advantage of you like that.

With his eyes open, the picture is complete — and he truly is as beautiful as you thought. He had a puppy like quality to his eyes, they were big and brown but from the sunlight streaming in you could see specks of orange which intrigues you. You wish to look closer, but you feel it’s not the time. His adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow and he tears his eyes away from yours to look around, still disorientated from sleep. He touches his wound with gentle fingers and he winces, going to push himself up on his elbows.

You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it, warm deep voice raspy from rest as he dives into a sequence of begging.

“Does anyone know I’m in here?”

“No, I—”

“Okay, that’s— okay, please — hey, please don’t tell anyone. I won’t lie to you, I’m in a little bit of trouble with the law, nothing super bad I swear just — I needed somewhere safe to sleep so I ended up here. Didn’t take anything and uh— and I’ll be out of your hair now that I’m up.” He rambles, continually glancing at the barn doors, expecting Sheriff Shoupe to bust them down and take him in at any moments notice. You say nothing for a moment and he pushes himself to his feet, eyes squeezing shut at the soreness of his injury. “Think it’s easiest if I just—”

He cuts himself off this time, because you slip your hand into his— stopping him from going anywhere. His eyebrows jump up and he freezes on the spot, staring down at your doe eyes with a wide and confused gaze of his own.

“…Hi?”

“You just got here? Why’d you have to go?” You sound sad, and he actually can’t believe what he’s hearing. Not only did he break into your barn, on private land — but he’d totally overstayed his non-existent welcome, and now you didn’t want him to leave?

“P—pardon me? Ma’am?” He tries to be respectful, when what he really wants to ask is along the lines of ‘What the fuck?’.

You scramble to stand up and he helps you using the hand that you’re grasping. “Well, you won’t get far with a wound like that. It could get infected. Maybe you could come inside, let me dress it. You can refuel… maybe stay a few days?” The last part sounds wrong coming from your mouth. He’s a stranger for goodness sake— everything your parents had taught you about safety went against this and plus you were practically begging. You might have been embarrassed, if there wasn’t such a nagging feeling in your stomach telling you that this was meant to be.

He scoffs out a chuckle, because he thinks there’s no way you’re serious— but when he sees your wide eyes bouncing between his own, searching for something he couldn’t quite put a finger on— he realises you’re being completely genuine and his expression melts into a more worried gaze, shuffling a little closer on his feet.

“Look, I really appreciate your hospitality, but you have done more than enough, really. Just the fact you didn’t have the sheriff busting in to drag me away is something I will be very grateful for. Believe me. But I can’t drag you into this. Anyway, don’t you have family? That you live with?”

You sigh, looking down at your intertwined hands that you had yet to release, staring as if you were trying to memorise the feeling of a man’s touch incase you really couldn’t convince him to stay.

“Well yes, but they’re on a trip you see — and they’re going to be away for another week and I’m not sure how much more I can take. I’m awfully lonely, and I know you’re a stranger and all but I could really use the extra set of hands… plus it’s the least you could do… for breaking in…” You feel you’re pushing it with that last part, but decide to proceed with it anyway, any means necessary to get him to stay. He bites his bottom lip in thought as you stare up through your lashes and he thinks screw it. He’s sure you’re not setting him up, a little thing like you would be far too weak to pull that off.

“Okay, I… don’t see why not then.” He doesn’t sound certain, but you make such a good offer he’d be a fool not to accept. He bends down and swoops his hat off the floor, holding it to his chest and you take his hand once more, guiding him out of the barn.

He presses his lips together in an awkward smile at the way you confidently lead him, almost having to break into a jog to match your eager pace. Once nearing the house, you tell him your name and he nods — taking in the scenery.

You’re sitting him down in the living room before he can blink, and he takes in the setting around him. A real cozy place, a family home for sure — with a pale blue couch, a scratchy patchwork blanket draped over the back and floral cushions. There’s photos of you in multiple spots around the room, an only child — he gathers. The main photo sits on the mantelpiece, framed, a set of parents curtaining your smiling face in the image. You seem to be a few years younger, fuller in the face, still cute as a button.

He doesn’t quite realise you’d gone anywhere until you’re returning — the contents of an old first aid box rumbling in your grip. You give him a reassuring smile and lower to kneel by his feet, opening up the container and fishing around for some cotton pads.

“Do you have a name, mister?”

He clears his throat, trying to gage your reaction once he speaks, attempting to work out if the name rings any bells. “Uh, yeah. John B. John B. Routledge. You might’ve… actually heard of me. If you have, uh— I’m sorry.”

You don’t seem to react in any kind of alarming way, a smile grazing your face as you pour rubbing alcohol onto a soft white pad.

“Heard of you how? Are you famous?”

“…You’ve never seen those big ‘Wanted’ posters up in town? Kinda got my picture up on one of them.”

You peel up his shirt revealing tanned, toned skin and a wound that had crusted over with blood. You press the pad to it and he winces, knuckles turning white in his lap and head lulling back against the seat for a moment.

“Sorry.” You furrow your brows apologetically before continuing to mop up all the dried blood. “Oh, and I’m not allowed up in town. Not by myself anyway. So, I don’t keep up to date with all that… stuff.” You pull away, rifling through the box for another clean pad. He nods, eyes jumping to look at his wound and then back to you, watching your face for any discomfort regarding his presence. Oddly, there was none. If it wasn’t clear before, it’s wildly apparent now that you’ve truly been sheltered your whole life. There was this innocence you carried that was hard to come by, a lack of judgement that was sweet but made him worry for you slightly. You were lucky he had a good heart.

“That’s… probably for the best, actually. You know, they like to tell lies. I’m being falsely accused.” He speaks a little slower, and enunciates the last part as if you might not understand, and as expected— you hang onto every word, lips a little parted and wide eyed. It’s pretty cute, albeit inappropriate considering he’s a stranger.

As he speaks, you wrap his wound, pressing the sticky part down onto his skin before gently pressing the cotton covering his injury. “Well I’m really sorry about that John B. You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” You chirp, before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss over the dressing, pulling back to offer him a sweet smile. The lines on John B’s forehead smooth out, his concerned expression melting into his own gentle smile of disbelief.

He wonders what the odds are that he’d stumbled upon a real life angel. Well, it was that — or you wanted to chop his body into tiny pieces whilst he slept and add it to your cauldron. He couldn’t quite figure it out yet, but you were pretty — and he was a total loverboy, so stupidly he was willing to take that risk.

He pulls his shirt back down over his now dressed wound and you begin to clear your things back into the first aid box.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Like, anything you need help with around here?” He offers and you look up at him, brows furrowing with adoration.

“Goodness, no— I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“Said you needed an extra pair of hands earlier.” He challenges with a smile.

“I only said that to get you to come inside. With your injury, I couldn’t possibly put you to work.”

He scrunches his face a little with a half scoff, half smile and shrugs one shoulder. “Please, this thing? It barely even stings. Come oooon.” He croons with a smirk, and you really feel the full effects of his charm now— the warm timbre of his voice headed straight to your clit giving it a heartbeat of its own.

“Fine.” It comes out airy with a giddy smile and you take his hand yet again, almost getting distracted by the coarseness against your palm, the sight of bulging veins along the backs of them.

Your bare feet are treading lightly over soft wood chip once more as you lead him toward the destroyed fence round the left side perimeter of the farm.

“So… I suppose you could carry all the planks back from the fence that fell down in that awful storm last week. I was gonna wait for my daddy to get home to get him to do it ‘cus I’m much too weak for something like that.” You point, and John B’s brown fluffy head follows your finger to the destination at hand. He nods, a doable task.

“Well a girl like you shouldn’t be lifting a finger anyway.” He turns his head back to face you with a smile, eyes squinted in the sun. He looks radiant, no sign of pain anymore and you look down at your night gown, scrunching it in your clammy hands with an uncontrollable grin at the floor, harbouring such an innocent crush on the boy already that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

His gaze stays on you for a tick whilst you step quietly and he speaks up again, tilting his head a little inquisitively. “I really, really hope this doesn’t sound rude… ‘cus I don’t mean to be. But… are you not… married?” He trails off, thinking of all the times he’s been walloped round the head in taverns for asking questions of a similar nature. Your smile doesn’t go away, your gentle nature not retiring for a moment.

“Oh no, no. I don’t meet boys often. Thats why I’m happy you came!” You chirp, hand reaching out to softly squeeze his arm. “Can be like husband and wife whilst you stay round.”

He just laughs in response. Not necessarily in a mean way, but the same way you laugh when a child tells you they’re going to be an astronaut when they grow up.

The brutal beating of the sun does nothing to stop the honest work you’d put the self proclaimed outlaw up to, he seems to be deep in thought often — carrying the planks to and fro. You slip inside for a while to change into something more appropriate, a sweet and floral sundress that ties up at the straps and hugs you in a more womanly way. You’d rubbed your lips together as you fixed your hair in the mirror before bringing him a sandwich in the early afternoon. “You are adorable.” He grins when you do so, and it wasn’t quite the reaction you’d hoped for on your dress but it still made you warm in the face. He simply brought out a true primal bodily reaction from you— that’s why you’d skipped the panties under your dress. He was making you excited and slippery down there and you just didn’t see the point. You stay out for hours at a time to chat with him. Your affections grow.

John B. Routledge finally returns back to the house when he’s all finished and you let him lay down for a nap on your couch, finally getting some real rest in. Whilst he does so, you spend hours preparing a hearty meal — the type you reserve for when mama and papa have guests round. As the pie browns off just a moment longer in the oven, you come to the man’s side, kneeling beside him and stroking his fluffy hair back.

“I made dinner. Sure you’re really hungry.” You whisper and his eyes flutter once more, the arms that were crossed over his chest stretching out as he wakes. You sit back to give him space, and when he opens his eyes you’re there with a smile — the orange beam of sunset haloing your head. Something about an angel drafts through his mind once more and he stretches.

“Oh boy, I slept longer than I was meant to huh?” He sits up and you shrug, leading him through to the kitchen where you’d laid the round table. Steaming seasoned vegetables in a bowl, freshly picked by you. Warm bread, baked and scored by you with flowers the centrepiece of the table. A jug of gravy there too. There’s a tray of mashed potatoes waiting, creamy and delicious looking. Routledges stomach audibly growls and he chuckles at this as he sits down, taking in the scenery you’d laid out. “You… have spoiled me. All this for someone who breaks into your barn?” He chuckles as he lowers himself into the seat.

You follow him round the table with a giddy smile. “Told you I like havin’ guests.” You perch your bottom on his leg, an arm wrapped around his neck as your feet swing. It felt right. You’d always wanted to sit with a man this way, you’d seen it before in the picture shows. Man and wife, domestic bliss. His brows jump up and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Oh… sweetheart, you shouldn’t do that. I am a— a stranger, after all.” He tries to do the responsible thing, even though there was something about your innocent brashness that was turning him on beyond belief. Your eyebrows knit in the centre, a line between them and your bottom lip seems to have doubled in size from how it pushes out.

“But I like you?” You mewl, rejected. It all seems so simple to you, which is probably feels super unfair. No one had taught you how to address men because you were so sheltered, and now it was giving you all of these complicated feelings that John B would have to deal with.

“And I like you — a whole bunch. You know I’m super grateful for you taking me in and… all that good stuff. But sitting right here is gonna… make me excited. Because I’m a guy. Go ahead and hop off for me.” He taps your lower back gently and you huff, feeling upset and rejected about the whole thing. His eyes are all wide and hopeful as he stares at you, like he wanted to make sure you were okay. The way he handles you so sweetly made your stomach stir despite your current mope.

You drag your feet to the oven comically and he stifles a chuckle at how dramatic you were, despite his sympathy. You place your hands into oven gloves and take out the pie— perfect and golden. You walk it to the table and John B sits up a little straighter, eyes darting between you and the food.

“Did this all by yourself? You have got a real knack for cooking. Should put you on the TV.” He grins, switching on the charm to attempt to loosen up your silent sulk. You nod, eyes casted down childishly and he reaches out to touch your arm. “Thank you, pretty girl.”

A small smile slips out, and he flickers his eyes over to the heart shape you’d scored onto the pie, his own lips twitching up into a smirk. “That for me?”

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.”

You end up giggling, his smile too infectious and your bad moment is all forgotten as you serve him a slice, plating up for him and then yourself before you eat. John B digs in ravenously, it’s almost erotic — the way he’s groaning at how good it all tastes, gravy dripping from his lips as he licks more off his fingers. He was clearly less proper-mannered than you, but you liked that. Table manners were for boring old people anyway. Maybe everything about him got you going, but you had to really concentrate on getting some food inside you instead of just watching the show of eating he was putting on.

Once you’re finished, and he’s finishing up on his third helping — you let your giggles die down from the wild goose chase story he relayed for you, one where he of course wound up the hero which only made your heart beat harder for him. Your socked foot begins to prod at his ankle, sliding up his leg until it rests in his lap. He doesn’t seem to mind, the food having lowered his guard just that bit as he leans back in his chair, undoing his belt. He adjusts his hips on the seat as he does so and your thighs clench.

“So what did you think?” You ask, though you think it’s clear that he liked the meal from the empty plates and unbuckled belt. He lets out a long satisfied sigh, gazing at you for a moment with a kind smile.

“I think, whoever gets to marry you is a lucky son of a bitch.” He presses his lips together, almost like he was disappointed about the idea of you with another. You blink, the hands resting beneath your chin dreamily slowly falling to play with eachother on the table.

“Why not you, John B?” You question sadly, giving him those eyes again. The ones that tug on his heart and made him wanna give you everything and anything you ask for. He lifts a napkin, bringing it to his mouth as he shakes his head dismissively, closing his eyes with a frown.

“Mm—mm.” The tissue fabric muffles the sound. “You don’t wanna marry me, believe me — okay, I’m an outlaw. Your parents would never in a billion years accept me. Anyway you… you deserve someone less rough and tumble, you know? Like a prince from a storybook. A bubblewrap life. Not… whatever this is.” He gestures to himself, more so the browned blood stain on his shirt.

You sigh, determined. “My parents would understand. They’re — they’re generous people.”

“Really? ‘Cus they don’t even let you leave the house.” He quips quickly in response, smirking at your naivety and you fall silent for a moment. His face flattens just a tad from guilt. You were far too soft for that kind of tone.

When you look up at him again, your face is more solemn — wide eyes searching his for a shred of understanding. “You don’t understand, John B. There are actual scary, dangerous men out there that would take me and do terrible things to me.”

The outlaw leans his elbows on the table, his lips stretched into an amused smile at the irony. There wasn’t an inkling of threat about the gesture, pure amusement coursing through the energy between you from his side alone. “And how do you know I’m not one of those scary, dangerous men. Hm?” His voice is warm, it seems to rumble straight from his chest. You release a shaky sigh.

“Well you haven’t hurt me yet?” Your voice lilts out, and you engage in a long stare off. There’s a different kind of tension in the air now, it’s hot and feels heavy on you. It oozes into the nooks and crannies of your balmy skin and slithers between your thighs. You can’t take the heat and you stand, beginning to bring his dishes to the sink to wash. It’s quiet for a while, John B watching you with this thoughtful and almost knowing smile as you tidy up around him. Even he couldn’t run from how good ‘domestic bliss’ felt.

You let yourself indulge in the fantasy too. Wife cleans up, husband sits behind at the table and sips at the drink she poured him. You wanted nothing more than to experience this everyday, and your heart sinks sadly at the fact that this will probably be the last. You lose yourself to thoughts and daydreams as you scrub away, to the point you nearly don’t hear him stand up, slowly walking to lean against the sink beside you.

You smile at him politely as he eyes you, and return your gaze to the plate in your hand. You mustn’t dwell. He moves, and soon he’s behind you, a hand resting against the sink beside your hip, head craning round to look at you from the other side. “You’re really serious about this husband and wife thing, aren’t you?”

“Very serious, sir.” You bat your lashes at him earnestly and his cock stirs in his pants at the title, unexpected but not unwelcomed. Bless your heart, you were only being courteous. He presses his lips together in thought and the side of your face warms with his slow exhale. Turning your body, you face him fully now. “I just think it was divine intervention that you wound up in my barn. You’re like an angel sent to take away my loneliness.” You’re shy, a little bashful about your beliefs and without thinking he cups your cheek in reassurance, thumb swiping slowly over the skin.

His eyes take in your every detail, and your lips part with a wobbly breath, nervous. “May I kiss you, John B?” You address, just as his thumb strokes the delicate skin below your eye. He grins, slightly amused by your formality and simply nods his head.

You stand on tip toes to reach him, socked feet almost knocking at his boots as your body presses to his, lips meeting. You’re a little messy, inexperienced— which comes as no surprise to the boy as he tilts his head, welcoming your mouth at another angle and taking control in order to guide you. You’re mostly a quick learner, slowing your pace to something much more sultry and he nearly can’t contain his excitement. He wants to be a gentleman, but as soon as he introduces his tongue — you lose composure, needy and all but panting into his mouth right then and there in the kitchen. He pulls away and breaks the string of saliva that connects your lips with his thumb, stroking it over your moist bottom lip as you stare at him readily.

He tilts his head, eyes wide and almost innocent as he gestures away. “You… want me to show you what husbands do with their wives?”

You nod so hard your eyes nearly roll back like one of those baby-dolls.

John B is the one to take your hand this time, leading you slowly and carefully through the house. You partially think he’s giving himself time to rethink what he’s about to do, but from the way your pussy is drooling into your panties — it feels set in stone. He finally reaches your bedroom and you watch his head move left and right as he takes it in, cheek lifting with a smile at the China dolls on the wall and the frilly white bedsheets. It’s clear your room hasn’t changed since you were a little girl. The sun is just starting to disappear behind your lace curtains and he switches on the lamp, sitting you down.

The man joins you, easing himself down at your side and cupping your cheek as he begins to kiss you again. He takes it slow, but the passion and need only grows as the splayed hand on your back begins to slide upwards until its cupping the back of your head and he’s beginning to slowly lower you to lie down like you’re made of glass.

Naturally you shuffle up the bed and he follows, hovering over you and leading with his tongue this time — the wet muscles wrapping around eachother languidly making you moan, legs falling wider apart.

“I wanna make you feel really good, okay? That okay with you?” He asks gently and you nod, sucking in a breath. You’d waited for something like this since you knew what pleasure was, craved the touch of a man with strong coarse hands and a wet mouth. Routledges thumbs swipe across your tits through your dress, massaging them until your nipples were poking painfully through the fabric as he burrows into your neck, licking and sucking.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as he tugs gently at your dress, eyes meeting yours once more.

“Let’s get this off, yeah?”

He tugs the garment up and over, puffing out his cheeks as he blows air out his mouth, brows raised at the sight of your naked body. You look so soft, so pliable beneath him. He was already hard just from kissing you, but this made him feel like he might combust. “Took your underwear off?” He smirks, pressing kisses to your stomach and between your tits before bringing his face up to eye level with you, same kind but teasing smile on his face. “Have you been needing me aaall day? Hm?”

You turn your head to the side, flustered and clammy with a whine— eyes screwed shut. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Oh, now you’re shy?”

“No, s’just — when you speak like that— n’say stuff like that… makes me hurt…” You’re breathless, hips twitching and bucking slightly as he grins, pearly whites showing.

“Aw.” Is all he manages before continuing his descent down.

He’s a real tease, spending an ungodly amount of time on your tits— sucking, licking and biting your nipples until you’re arched off the bed, teary eyed and wincing from sensitivity. It’s then, and only then he starts to kiss lower, pushing himself down your pristine sheets until he’s settling between your legs, gently easing your ankles upwards so that your knees faced the sky, your cunt fluttering and open right infront of his face.

“Well she’s very pretty.” He smiles up at you, thumbs coming up to spread you. He leans in slowly, hot breath fanning over your heat before he simply presses the softest kiss to your clit. He draws back again as you whimper, running the pads of his thumbs up along your spread folds. “Hear that? So wet, pretty girl.” He marvels in a whisper.

“Just want you to make it better.” You mewl and he nods slowly in understanding, tongue swiping over his lips as he observes you.

“That I can definitely do.” He confirms before leaning in, licking and sucking at your clit as his thumb automatically rolls downwards to massage your hole. You gasp, knees shooting up towards your chest as he eats you, similarly to the pure fervour and passion he only recently devoured the meal you cooked for him. You wondered how any appetite remained.

When he sinks his middle finger inside you, your stomach tenses — a high pitched noise of relief and utter devastation leaving you. You had no idea how badly you’d craved fullness to this very moment, and you weren’t even halfway there. He’s smiling against you, glancing up as you flutter around his single digit and make plenty of noise for him. “Yeah? Think you’ve really been needing some of that, little girl.” He nearly laughs at your extreme reaction. He had to admit, it was fun doing this with someone so inexperienced. Everything to you seemed like the best thing ever.

He eats and eats away, proving himself to have quite the monstrous appetite for your slick . Your feet rest on his shoulders at one point, lost in pleasure as you whine and writhe and to keep you out of the way, the outlaw pushes your legs up and pins them there, nose deep in your gloss.

“Feels too good— feels— hurts!” You cry, because you don’t know how to put that you’re simply aching to cum.

“Doesn’t hurt, sweet girl. Just let it happen.” He corrects in that low reverberation that you’ve grown to love. After a series of ‘Uh’ and ‘Mm’s, you feel yourself hitting that peak — the one you usually reach all over the soft cotton of your pillow, but ten times the strength.

As soon as he senses this happening, he doubles down and continues repeating the same action with his mouth over and over until you’re squealing and pushing him away, curling into a ball as your completion dribbles out of your quivering hole.

He grins, real proud of himself as he pushes up on his hands to near you, gently shushing you the same way you would to soothe a baby to sleep. “I know, that was a lot huh?” He coo’s, rubbing your back with his warm hand as you suffer the aftershocks, clenching and whimpering, a smaller clammy hand reaching out to his shirt to grab a fist of it.

He forces you softly onto your back, stroking a hand over your warm forehead. For someone so convinced the two of you shouldn’t be together, he sure did look at you like you were his entire world. By the gaze shared, you would never know the two of you only met that morning.

“What now, hm?” He smiles, quiet. You open your mouth to speak, and your voice rasps from the loud and explosive release that had you calling out.

“Wanna… make you feel as good as you made me feel, John B.”

He licks his lips, thinking over it. If it wasn’t already clear, his dick was throbbing in his pants just from pleasing you— and had you wanted to end things there he would be sure to take a trip to the bathroom to finish in his hand. Maybe swipe a pair of your underwear from the basin for inspiration, but that made his stomach tense with guilt.

“Think I can manage that, yeah.” He nods before reaching slowly for his belt. “Sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, good.”

His belt is still undone from after dinner so he slides the snakey leather from its loops with one hand, the act more attractive than you anticipated which made you clench once more with need. He sits on the edge of the bed and you usher up beside him, pressing your naked body to him and ghosting your drooly lips over his jaw line as he sighs, working his length out of his pants.

“Oh my.” You breathe, as soon as you look down. Now you hadn’t had much experience in dealing with the male anatomy, clearly — but you knew for certain John B had to be miles larger than the average man. His cock stood tall, straight — slightly mauve towards the tip with a beautiful blue vein drifting down his shaft like a river on a mountain. His balls sat beneath, heavy and pink — inviting in a way that made your mouth water primally.

“Yeah? This is… what m’working with.” He chuckles, sounding a little nervous.

“How do I…” You mutter after a moment and he’s quick to take your hand, pressing your fingers so that it forms a cup and bringing it to your mouth.

“You wanna spit for me, pretty? Right here.” He encourages and whilst you don’t understand, you do as he wishes, letting a bubbly glob of saliva drool out into the cupped crevice of your hand. You look up at him with wide unsure eyes, searching for praise or reassurance that you’d done as he asked. He presses his lips together at the sweet and submissive expression, shifting his hips a tad in excitement. “Mm, fuck.” He punctuates with an airy chuckle, ticking his head in a single shake.

He brings your hand down and begins to smear it all over himself, releasing a shaky exhale as he does so. “So, uh… you’re gonna wanna move your hand. Just like this.” He sighs as he works your hand up and down his shaft, slowly jerking him off. Your eyes flicker between his face and pretty dick to make sure you were doing it right. As you do so, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips, muttering a “So sweet, bubba.” Against your mouth.

This only encourages you to gain confidence, doing whatever feels right. You twist your hand— squeezing just a tad harder towards the tip as that seemed to be what made him release that heavenly groan, jaw constantly agape as he watches your hand.

“Theeere you go sweetheart. Easy right? Like milking a cow.” He kisses your temple briskly once more before his eyes screw shut, chest heaving with quicker breaths. You get carried away, fascinated by the pearly precum that seeps from his slit as you work him with your hand and following your own judgment you lean down. You figure if he used his mouth on you, you could return the favour.

His eyes open with a loud shudder when you tentatively wrap your plush lips around his tip, working your hand up and down to try and squeeze more of the interesting salty flavour from him. You let out a long drawn out moan of your own as you feel your clit throbbing with desire, liberating his precum from your mouth to let it dribble back down his shaft in messy bubbles.

He winces, placing a hand on your shoulder and removing you with such an abrupt speed that you nearly flew off the side of the bed. You sit up straight, slick mouth pouting as your eyes flicker between his, worrying that you’d done something wrong. There’s a second of just looking at eachother, before you stumble over some words.

“S—Sorry. Did I hurt—”

“No, no God no. I uh— I just wasn’t sure if I should make a mess all over that pretty face just yet.” His wide eyed expression melts into a reassuring smile, thumb rising to swipe lovingly at your cheek. You lick your lips, savouring the taste of him and nod — not quite sure where to go from there.

Your silence makes him question, and he eyes you. “Is there… anything in particular you want now?”

You think, blinking your doll-like eyelashes off into the distance before nodding once more— pushing off away from him and scurrying to the head of the bed where you lay yourself gently on the pillows.

“Hm?” He follows up in confusion, craning his neck round to watch you.

“Would… like a baby now, please.” You spread your legs a little, shy and bashful in your request like you wasn’t sure if you’d asked impolitely. His face falls as he stares at you for a moment before closing his eyes, rubbing over his face with an exasperated chuckle, elbows on his knees.

As you stare at him with with an upset little pout, already ashamed by your forwardness. “Like husband and wife?” You try to justify and he sighs out his nose, turning his body fully to you.

“Oh sweet girl.” He tugs you gently lower toward him by your hips, rubbing his thumbs at your waist. “We just met.”

You launch into full fledged begging, whiny and high pitched with tears threatening to dive over their trough. “I’ll make you so happy John B, I’ll make all your problems go away and you won’t have to run anymore. Please?” You were deadset on this man giving you your dream life, and you’d officially pushed shame to the side in order to get this. His brow is permanently creased, staring with those big wide puppy dog eyes, continually stroking your skin in hopes to calm you.

“Are you… sure that’s what you want? You’re still young. So much time for all that.”

“Just want it now. I’d never be lonely again.” You sound defeated, staring down away from him now. He felt bad, he’d always hated disappointing people. Once upon a time he was a fixer, always running to his friends aid to make their problems go away. That urge never died, just burned low and quiet like an old candle flame. He wanted to make your problems go away too.

“Okay.” He presses his lips together. “I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.”

He watches your devastated expression lift into a radiant grin, and it was like watching the sun appear from behind a grey cloud after weeks of downcast weather. “Yeah?” You chirp toothily as he crawls over you, leaking tip grazing your tummy and then your folds as he buries his face into your neck.

“Uh-huh.”

When he pushes his tip inside, John B says a prayer for the first time in his life.

He’d never really followed any religion. His father had been the type to say it was all a bunch of ‘Mumbo jumbo’ and that he should believe in the human psyche instead, or something like that. But as your wet folds swallow him and you release that high pitched mewl at the inevitable stretch — he finds himself asking God — please, please don’t let me knock this young girl up.

There’s a warm blanket of chills that cover his spine as he slowly sheathes inside of you, feeling like he was pushing deeper and deeper into a black hole that would selfishly keep sucking him inside for the rest of his life. It felt too good, calming — like falling asleep. He was euphoric.

“So — so big inside me!” Your cry knocks him out of his thoughts and he kisses your shoulder before looking down to watch himself push in all the way to the hilt.

“Feel okay, gorgeous?”

You nod, a pained whine falling from you as you dig your nails into his skin, walls fluttering around him like they were constantly trying to accommodate for this thickness. “Fuck.” He groans, before sliding back a little and starting to thrust. Yeah, he wasn’t gonna last too long— he needed to get to work on you fast.

As he gently fucks into you, your plush tits recoil with the movement and he can’t close his mouth, sounds and sighs leaving him without permission. A hand slides between the two of you, the other pulling his shirt up to grip between his teeth— giving himself a better view of the way he strokes at your clit — your legs being spread exposing it, making it easier for him.

You clench, and shudder — that sweet face contorting with each time his tip ever so slightly grazes your cervix, careful not to bruise it. You really were beautiful, that type of homely beauty he’d thought of marrying in his lonely nights of travelling through desert and grass. The type of girl you work for, the type that deserves spoiling, princess treatment. The more he fucks, the more he’s convincing himself that impregnating you might not be the most awful thing after all. Why should he chase away security?

Your fingertips grace his chest, and he takes your hand — pinning it to the bed as your fingers intertwine, using the grip to aid his rolling thrusts— speeding up the pace and force now he knew you could take it like a champ. His mouth opens to speak, and his shirt drops out of it.

“Taking me real good baby. You like getting fucked, don’t you?” He coo’s and you can only nod, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes before rolling down to your temples. Poor thing, lost for words.

There’s a wet slapping sound with each thrust, your cunt equally gushing as it was thirsty — hungrily welcoming each inch of his, and even demanding more by locking your ankles around his lower back. Perhaps you did it for comfort, or perhaps because you suspected a hesitance, the threat of him pulling out last minute too much for your baby-crazed brain.

“Jesus. Sweet little puppy.” He breathes like it’s a revelation beneath your ear, the curly tuft of hair above his shaft tickling you as he continues to rub your clit.

“S’gonna happen again, John B. The big feeling.” You strain, eyes clamped shut and sniffling— too overwhelmed by your impending orgasm. He kisses each eye lid and watches you closely, experiencing you unfold once more.

“Thats my good girl. Let me have it, pup. Gimme a good one.”

You’re an explosion of whimpers and moans, thrashing under his firm grip once more— and he’s not sure when your orgasm ends, if it even ends at all— he doesn’t care, the release pushing him close to his own. He speeds up his pace, hand that was at your clit now wrapping around your lower back, forearm pushing your lower half up and against him, forcing you to just keep taking him.

He was like a beast from a fairytale book, fucking wildly into you with a primal determination that had you struggling to breathe. You’re crying now, full out crying because it’s just so much. There’s still one last thing you require, and only he can give you it.

“You wanna make me daddy, huh?” He demands, that gentleness in his voice gone. It’s nearly unrecognisable from him, and you preen beneath the rough touch.

“Mhm!”

“Words.” He barks. He didn’t mean to be mean, he just got a little bossy when he was close. You’d come to learn that.

“Please give me a baby. Please just — make you a daddy! Need it!” You’re squealing, voice shaking from the hard ‘plap plap plap’ of his balls slapping against you. You feel you might pass out if this goes on much longer.

He releases with a long groan, lips dropping to the centre of your chest and back arching upwards. You register his sounds before you feel it, hot slimy ropes of him— shooting up inside you, warming your walls. You moan too, because it feels so good to be full. It feels right, like this was what had been missing after all.

Everything is a blur for the next few minutes. It’s like you black out a little, because maybe you forgot to be breathing like you should have been. You briefly recall John B scooping you up and helping you through that, ignoring the gooey seed dripping from you to cradle you like a baby, humming a calm “Breathe, sweetheart. In and out. With me, c’mon.” Your gentle boy was back, and through your haze you smile.

Once you’re tucked at his side beneath a soft cotton blanket, his hand stroking over your head after cleaning you up, a whispered conversation ensues.

“Do you really like me John B? Like, you really think I’m beautiful?” You inquire, gazing up at him with stuck together black eyelashes. The question was so innocent, yet he could tell it was so meaningful.

His expression doesnt falter, a gentle smile sat comfortably on his lips as he continues to pet you. “Baby, I think you’re the ponds swan. Just… gotta get to know you a little better, okay? ‘Specially if I really did put a baby in you.” Only then his smile falters, brows knitting as the reality sets in. Oh Lord.

“Okay.” Your eyes flutter closed, happy to leave it at that, happy to fall asleep right by his side under his watchful eye. It was unnerving how safe a lonely girl could feel with a stranger.

“Okay. Good girl. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.” He quietly reassures, watching you drift off. He’s not sure if he’s trying to dispel your fears, or his own.

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 6/7)

Mini-Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader (Enemies to Lovers) (Fake Marriage Trope)

Word Count: 3300+

A/N: I have only read through this once, but I plan on revising it this afternoon, so please excuse any mistakes! The next chapter will be the last, and I'm so glad you guys have enjoyed it up to this point :) You all are the best! (Also, I tried fixing as many of the tags as I could, but if it's still acting weird, please message me or send an ask!)

_________

Chapter 6:

“Shit, you have a mean right hook, but you kinda have to hit the target for it to have the impact you want!” I pant as I move just seconds before Bethanne makes contact with the wall behind me. “You learn that in pilates? Maybe I should take it up.” 

Reggie let out a frustrated grunt from the room over where Bucky was now ducking and weaving out of angry, calculated swings. 

In assessing my opponent's fighting patterns, I sense Bethanne going in for another swing. Grabbing the picture frame off the wall, I bash it into her head, where she teeters and falls back, discombobulated enough for me to move to help Bucky.

“I should have known better than to trust you two,” Reggie grunts as he gets a slight jump on Bucky, shouldering him and taking him to the ground. “Especially you’re bitch of a fake wife-”

I go to handle the comment for myself and help Bucky, but something about the slur triggers Bucky to handle the situation on his own, and the next thing I know, he’s now on top of Reggie and twisting his arms in a way that causes a wale in pain to follow. 

“That’s not how you speak about a lady,” he grits through his teeth and winds back to swing. 

At the same moment, with my attention elsewhere, Bethanne comes from behind me with a piece of glass from the picture frame -that didn’t do the job I’d hoped- and slices deeply in the back of my arm, getting a scream and hiss from me. 

She’s seething when I turn around, her own hand dripping blood on their pristine white carpet from the clamp she has on it, ready to give another slash when the opportunity presents itself. 

I hear Bucky shout my name, distracted by my injury, and then catch a glimpse of the tussle that breaks back out between the two men. One problem at a time. 

Holding the back of my arm, feeling the blood leave my body faster than I expected, I twist my head to the side at the blonde. I learned the intimidation tactic from Wanda, and when I say it works, it works…

Bethanne’s crass smile falls, and she is smart enough to take a few steps back. 

“I’m not a gentleman, so I won’t hold my tongue, bitch,” I add emphasis on the name and start walking to her with my head down and eyes glaring at her. Instantly, she turns on her heel and runs to another room, where I pick up my speed and follow her. 

I get my foot in between the doorframe before she has the chance to shut it, and dear God, I wish I had my Doc Martens right now to kick the damn thing down. I shove my shoulder into it, and she stumbles back for a lamp in the bedroom we were in now. 

Not well calculated, she throws a small one, and I dodge it as it slams into the door behind me. 

“Come on, Bethanne. All those sole cycles and bare classes, and you don’t want to see if those muscles work? Throw a hit like a woman. Let’s make this more interesting,” I move to a fighting stance and ignore the sting on my arm, knowing I have fleeting moments of adrenaline before the blood loss catches up. 

“You’re just mad you got caught,” she spits out, and I mean literally spits out. The saliva would have hit my foot if she wasn’t such a sissy. “You think we didn’t catch on from the second bug you destroyed? Pretty fucking obvious if you ask me.” 

I could hear more pieces of furniture breaking off in the other room and realized that maybe this chit-chat needed to end. 

“Sure. Let’s go with you guys figuring it out sooner. If that makes you feel better about all this,” I shrug, rolling my eyes and stepping in to move this party along. 

____________

The night before. Bucky’s POV:

Due to the wire in the bathroom, which neither Y/N nor I wanted to deal with, I had to shift my nighttime bathroom routine to the master’s. 

Like any normal master bath, there were two sinks, and I stationed myself at the one Y/N hadn’t. For the first time since coming to this place, we actually felt like a couple as we both got situated on our side of the counter and started doing our nightly regime. 

“How intense of a wire do you think it is?” she asked quietly after washing her face and dapping the water off her skin with a clean towel. 

The doors to the bathroom and her room were both closed, creating a barrier to the others. 

“I think we’re safe to talk in here,” I answered, rinsing my toothbrush I’d just used and throwing it into the travel bag I had. 

“Ok, so I can ask freely, how much longer do you think this mission is going to take?” she sighs, opening the cabinet in front of her, taking out three cosmetic vials, and putting them in a practiced order in front of her. 

“Huh?” I let slip, and she turned to me with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Huh, what?” 

I shake out of my disbelief and look at her clean and noticeably smooth face. A subtle scar next to her eyebrow being the only form of imperfection by societal rules, but I wouldn’t call it that. 

“I didn’t think you were a,” I paused, not sure what to call what I was seeing. I just saw her as someone who would splash some water on her face at the night's end and call it a day. Then again, I didn’t know enough about face creams and serums I’ve seen Nat and Wanda use. 

“A clean person?” she finishes my sentence with a harsh laugh as she brings out a spray bottle with a maroon liquid in it from another cabinet, spritz her face three times and pats it in with her hand. 

“Don’t think that’s the word I was looking for,” I shake my head, running a hand through my hair and fidgeting as I feel her gaze shift to me. 

“Not a face washer and 20 ageless serums kind of guy?” she hums, rubbing a green goop in her hands before all over your face. “Well, not all of us are aging at the rate of paint drying. Some of us have to put in effort to look this good.” 

I smirk at that because I don’t think she realizes what she just said. 

“You say I’m effortlessly handsome?” I grin, turning and resting my back on the counter as I watch her. 

She can’t seem to help her own smile and bites her lip as she fans her face, grabbing another small dropper bottle. 

“You know what? Don’t even try and pretend you don’t know you’re a pretty face,” she blushes and tries to backtrack. “God. Can you believe the difference this conversation would have been just two hours ago? And now I’m here calling you pretty.” 

“I’m not complaining.” The grin on my face hurts with how authentic it is. “And if it makes you feel any better, I think Reggie would steal you away as his wife if I weren’t already attached to you.” 

“Ah, yes. The testosterone battle that took place tonight. Glad you brought that up,” she nods, placing the finished bottles back in the cabinet and adding the last serum to her face. Her skin had a nice glow after the magic treatments. “I knew men lay their claim, but you seemed more intense than I’d imagined you’d be about that kind of stuff.”

“He was undressing you with his eyes,” I said sternly, compared to the easy-going tone we had stuck to. “He needed to be set straight acting like that.” My arms crossed as I watched her unbothered by the conversation piece.

“And you, acting like a lion ready to bite the head off of him while trying to get on their good side, was the way to counter that behavior?” 

“I wasn’t that intimidating.”

“You’re James Buchanan Barnes. You don’t have to put on an act to be intimidating. Therefore, when you put on any protective act, the intimidation act just multiplies.” She deadpans to me. 

Ok, maybe she was right… I was a little more invasive into her space this evening, but it was to prove a point. 

“I was doing my job,” I shrug, stepping closer, picking up her skincare bottle, and examining it. 

“You played the annoyed and jealous husband very well. I’ll make sure your nomination for a Tony Award is submitted.” 

I shake my head, handing her the bottle she places precisely in the cabinet. 

“Are you a neat freak?” I ask, and she turns to me, pulling her hair out of the ponytail she had put in to wash her face. 

“I’m not anal if that’s what you think? I prefer things to be organized where it’s helpful.” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s what a neat freak would say…”

“Says the man who organized the spices alphabetically and sorts the coffee pods by color.” She tidies her space, wiping any water with a washcloth, and turns out of the room, flipping the light switch with me still in there. 

“When you’re cooking, it makes things easier to find. That’s just common sense. And the color thing? Well, it’s aesthetically pleasing,” I debate, following her on her heel. 

“Sure thing, neat freak…” she laughs, going to her side of the bed and getting her nightstand prepared for the night. 

I watch her, and she doesn’t seem to mind as I silently catalog her ritual. When she finally gets things settled and looks at me, waiting for a reason for why I’m still in her room, I stumble over my words. 

“You’re question earlier.” Considering the life mic in the room across the hall, I have to be careful in choosing my words. “Maybe this suburban life isn’t as bad as we thought it was. It is a nice break from our former day-to-day.”

She nods, pulling back the covers of her bed and rubs lotion from her bedside into her palms. 

“There are some aspects I’ve come to like,” she smiles genuinely. 

“Agreed.”

____________

Present Time

In seconds, Bethanne was unconscious and lying on the ground with a curtain cord binding her on the ground. She’d be occupied enough for me to help Bucky restrain his opponent and come back to move her after. 

I held the back of my arm, which was still oozing blood. The dizziness was slowly creeping up on me, but I tapped into the reserve of adrenaline to assess the chaos in front of me. 

Lucky for Bucky, he was holding his own well enough even if his opponent was double his size (but are we shocked? No.), so I moved to the kitchen for a weapon, considering we didn’t have time to prepare before this fight broke out. 

For context, this all started with me coming over here to meet Bethanne for a yoga class she had invited me to this morning. Bucky just happened to be heading home earlier from "work," given that he actually had nothing to do.

Lucky for me because Bethanne had used the excuse of yoga to corner me, and Reggie happened to be home to help, too.

I had played into their casualness to start, feeling the energy off and their disposition askew, and tried to stall for a while, knowing it would be a better fight with my partner nearby. I texted Bucky to meet me at their place with an excuse, and by the time he got there (5 minutes later), the fight broke out, and all curtains were pulled back to reveal the truth.

“Barnes!” I shout, and his head pops up from his position, trying to disengage Reggie. I throw the knife I got a hold of from across the room, and he spins, turning the giant perfectly to where the knife embeds itself in the front of his thigh. 

A yell in pain sounds, and Bucky turns to hold his head in a lock that eventually makes Reggie pass out. 

Silence takes over the space. The only sound is our panting as he looks at the damage and sees the end of our mission come to a close. Whether intentional or not…

“So, that was fun. Glad we got some cardio in,” I huff, pulling my arm closer to my body and putting pressure on the cut. 

“Jesus fuck,” Bucky runs a hand through his hair and walks to me. “Where’d she get you?” 

His hands are gentle and light compared to how he’d been using them the last few minutes. He turns me to the side, using my shoulder as leverage, and bends to look at the gash on my arm right above the back of my elbow. I had been wearing a dry-fit running jacket that clung to me, so the damage wasn’t 100% visible, I’m sure, but the hiss he lets out when he sees it leads me to believe otherwise. 

“How’s it look, Doc?” I ask and wince with a sharp breath when he pokes at it. “Dude. Jagged glass cut. Careful.” 

“Just moved the fabric,” he grumbles, still examining it. In front of us, Reggie groans. We both look at him. 

“We can play operation in a minute. Let’s tie the big guy up, and you can help me get Raggedy Bethanne from the other room in here to interrogate,” I push past his shoulder as I move to get Reggie situated. 

Begrudgingly, Bucky helped me move the sleeping giant and we shut all the blinds and set the space for a controlled interrogation. 

Currently, Bucky is on the phone with Steve, letting him know the plan went awry. We were working on getting information while we waited for a team to come collect the two perpetrators. Steve confirmed he’d send undercover agents as cops for us to wrap up the loose ends. 

In the middle of the call, someone knocks on the door, and we share a look. I’m still covered in blood, but I find a painter's poncho on the side, throw it on quickly, and grab a used paintbrush in the convenient tray next to it. 

“One second!” I shout, making a few marks on the poncho and one on my face for show. I go to open the door, praying I don’t have any blood on my face, but I did well in keeping away from Bethanne’s pathetic attempts of retaliation. 

When I open the door, I see their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Nosy-Nancy Betrum, smiling wearily in front of me. 

“Oh, hello, Charlotte,” she says nervously, trying to peer into the house around me. “Is Bethanne in there?” 

“Oh,” I perk up casually, turning behind me for a second and looking back at her. “She just ran to the bathroom. Is everything ok?”

“I just heard some shouting and crashing and wasn’t sure what was going on,” she started, still trying to peak into the background that I’m mostly hiding, so I moved a little to show the not-as-destroyed part of the house. 

“Oh, she’s doing a kitchen renovation and asked if we could help since we have some experience ourselves. The boys are hauling and dismantling some things. Lots of grunting and noise, I’m afraid,” I cringe lightly to play into the apologetic side of the conversation. “I’ll let her know we’re being too loud.” 

“Oh, ok,” she nodded, seemingly convinced but still glancing in. 

“Char, can you come help me and Reggie with this?” Bucky shouts, and I turn to look at him as he gives me an out. 

“Sorry about the noise, Nancy. We’ll try to be considerate about it. One sec, honey!” I nod back. “See you for Wednesday book club at Katrina’s next week.” I give an award-winning smile, and that seems to seal the deal. 

“Let me know how the finished project comes out,” she waves, walking down the steps.

After I shut the door, I groan as the pain in the back of my arm throbs more and more. 

“I’ll get Beth,” Bucky stands up from where he has successfully tied up Reggie and anchored him to a chair. “You go find a clean cloth and put some pressure on that,” he points out my arm that’s smearing red into the white paint I had tried to hide it with. 

“Good plan,” I nod, hissing as I move to the kitchen to make a makeshift tourniquet. 

_____________

The mission was done. I could sleep in my own bed now. My arm hurt like hell, and I was dreading the unfortunate aftercare and restrictions to come, but the mission was done, and I was headed home. 

After we got Bethanne and Reginald situated, the interrogation started, and they squealed like pigs. Well, Bethanne did, but Reggie didn’t hold out like he thought he would after some convincing with Bucky’s form of torture. Restrained if you ask me…

We had a list of other names to hunt and find. We found solid evidence in their home to prove most of it. Steve and Nat were given puzzle pieces that we had come for originally, so we were on the right path of taking down the organization Fury had been hunting.  

Things worked out for the better, even with the fact that they had successfully hidden a bug, and we were discovered. But there was a reason Bucky and I were picked for this, and we proved that. 

“What’s the diagnosis?” Bucky asked, coming into the med-bay I had been stationed in for the last hour on the Quinjet home. 

“I won’t need a robotic arm, unfortunately. I’ll have to wait a little longer before I can join your one-man club,” I sigh depressingly before I quirk a smile at him. 

“Wouldn’t be a one-man club if you joined it, now would it?” he laughed, sitting on the bed next to me where the nurse finished the stitches and wrapped a clean gauze bandage around it. 

“Thank you.” I nodded her way as she grabbed her things and walked out quietly. 

“Gonna be a minute before you back out in the ring, huh?” he asked, bumping my shoulder. “Sam hasn’t been proving to be the best dueling partner. Maybe since you won’t try to kill me now, you can take up the title? I feel like you’d be a decent match.” 

I turn to him after picking at my bandage and eye him. “Who says I wouldn’t try to kill you still? What’s the good of training if you’re not practicing the real thing?” 

He rolls his eyes and spreads his legs a little more, causing his knee to bump into mine.

“I don’t think you’ll be up for the killing portion of our fights for a bit, so I’ll take the advantage as long as possible.” 

“You think a little scratch like this has held me back from killing before?” He laughed under his breath, and we sat in comfortable silence for a minute. “The team isn’t going to believe I no longer have a vendetta against you,” I whisper. “They’re going to think we’re putting on an act.”

Bucky’s POV:

“I, for one, prefer the nicety over the insults, but that’s me personally,” I say, noticing the nerves in her comment. 

“I’m going to miss insulting you,” she sighs heavily, and I’m shocked at her closing in the space enough for our shoulders to touch. “I don’t have to give it up fully, do I?” 

I take her attempt of trying to lighten the mood and nod. 

“Considering the team is going to give us hell for it, and Steve has a bet we’ll make up in 3-weeks-”

“Wait, make up? I thought the bet was how long until we bite each other’s heads off.” 

“Nat’s bet is. She gave it until tomorrow actually. Steve was rooting for us I guess,” I shrug. 

“Hmmm,” she nods her head as she thinks things through. I’ve seen that look many times. “What if we messed with them?” 

“Channel our energy into keeping the charade going a little longer so neither wins?” 

“You really shouldn’t be betting on your friends,” she grins mischievously. 

“I’m always down for winning a second time this week,” I smile back.

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[slippinmickeys]

A prompt, formally. Shepherdstown WV.

Mulder pulled the car into the gravel lot and cut the engine. In front of them was a long wood building, painted a light blue. Over the entrance was an olde-tymey sign that said “O’Hurley’s General Store,” and on every conceivable surface on the rest of the building, it listed its wares: Glassware, Hardware, Furniture, Yard Goods. Hats, Music, Dolls. Housewares, Toys. Guns, Knives, Tools.

Scully threw him a skeptical look. “Did you…forget to pack something?” she asked.

Mulder put his seat back and settled in. “No,” he said. “We’re here on surveillance.”

Scully balked. “Surveillance?”

Mulder nodded. “I think our suspect shops here.”

“I wasn’t aware we had a suspect.”

Mulder turned to her. “We talked about this. The witch.”

“You’re right, Mulder, we did talk about this.” Scully could hear the whining in her own voice and did her best to level it. “Just because there was a pentagram found near the body doesn’t mean it was a ritual sacrifice. I explained this to the Sheriff as well.”

“It wasn’t just the pentagram, Scully. There was salt on the scene. Incense. All items used in ritual consecration practices.”

“t was the kitchen of a college student, Mulder. Salt and incense are pretty much par for the course.”

“Your autopsy showed he was killed with a sharp knife, ‘likely with a curved blade,’” he invoked a line directly from her report.

“…and that means witch?”

Mulder smiled at her. “The boline is a white-handled, curved, ritual knife, used mainly for the cutting of herbs and inscribing candles.”

Scully leaned back begrudgingly in her own seat. He wasn’t going to let this go.

“Fine. Our suspect is a witch. Why would he or she be shopping here?”

Mulder reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded up flier for the store they were parked in front of. Scully pursued the list.

“Cast iron,” she read off. “Enamelware. Dinner bells.”

Mulder nodded enthusiastically. “Candles,” he said. “Coffins. Frogs.” He pointed at the words painted on the side of the building. “Plus dolls. Dry goods. Knives.”

Scully turned to look at him.

“One stop shop for your modern day witch,” he said with a smile.

Scully looked back down at the advertisement, feeling her irritation give way to bemusement. “Who in the world drops into a general store to pick up a steam engine?” she said.

“Probably the same person who goes in for an anvil.”

She graced him with a grin.

“They sell ‘notions?’” She had to admit to being at least a little bit charmed.

Mulder bent his head to peer through the windshield at the store. “I really want to go in.”

Scully unbuckled her seatbelt. “So let’s go in.”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Open your door before I change my mind.”

Mulder whipped off his own seatbelt and was out the door before Scully had a chance to button her coat.

She followed him up the gravel walkway, the stones crunching crisply under their feet. “I’ll bet you twenty bucks it smells weird in there,” she said.

“There’s no way I take that bet,” he replied, smiling. He trotted up the steps and held open the door for her and she shuffled in and turned to him, tapping her nose. His smile grew wider.

Scully then paused, five steps in, taken aback by the sight before her.

“Jesus,” she said. “I’ve never seen so much crap in one place.”

”Isn’t it great?” Mulder beamed.

A saleswoman appeared from behind a behemoth stack of crockery.

“Can I help you find anything?” she asked.

Mulder looked poised to say something she would probably wish he wouldn’t, so she decided to carry the mantle herself.

“Any chance you have a cauldron?” Scully asked.

“Absolutely!” The woman said brightly.

“How about a besome? A censer? An Athame?”

The saleswoman smiled. “Right this way,” she said, turning to make her way around several large barrels filled with wax-wrapped salt water taffy.

When Scully turned to see if Mulder was following her, she found him glued to the spot, his mouth agape.

“Scully?”

“Yeah?” she asked, more than a little pleased with herself.

“If they sell engagement rings, I’m buying you one.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

ep 1. but i’ll miss you | myj, jjk

sugar, spice, and everything nice ep 1. but i'll miss you.

pairing(s): yoonji (fem!myg) x reader x jungkook

summary: Sugar? Min Yoonji. Spice? The woman at the park. Everything nice? Jeon Jungkook (he is freaking annoying, though). The accidental chemical X? Well, the woman in the park that Min Yoonji finds incredibly attractive is kinda-dating-definitely-fucking Jeon Jungkook. And he's very obviously in love with her.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; Yoonji is pansexual and still in the closet; internalized homophobia + moments of gay panic; ft. best friend group, OT6 (specifically Kim Seokjin, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung during the bowling hangout), best friend!Jung Hoseok is at military service (sad); f/f/m love triangle? slow burn; there will be smut in the future; non-idol!AU - Yoonji's POV

set in South Korea, Karrot is resale app for clothing, furniture, etc

--

“What does it taste like?”

That mere smile sent chills down her spine.

“Sweet.”

There was nothing to say to that. She looked away, not wanting to look into those eyes anymore. Didn’t ask for a bite. It wasn’t hers. It seemed to be a homemade dessert of soft silken tofu and heavy ginger syrup. The kind of sugar syrup that was heavier than the tofu. The dark viscous liquid dripped between the cracks of puffy white, seeping into the decadence, similar to the way those scorched eyes seemed to see past any defense Min Yoonji had.

She didn’t know how she got into this position, yet here she was.

Sigh.

Inwardly, she wished her best friend Jung Hoseok was here. He wasn’t because he was busy fulfilling his service of being a Korean man. Hmph. Well, Yoonji could have come alone. She had done it before. She was tough enough. But something about this this had given her a bad feeling, so she had asked if a friend could accompany her to help pick up the light fixture that she had found on Karrot.

That friend being Jeon Jungkook.

Shit, Yoonji really fucked up asking Jeon Jungkook.

“I’m sorry, noona, but something came up! I messed up my knee. I’ll send my friend instead. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe!”

Now she was sitting here on this park bench with the…

Woman.

Really, Yoonji didn’t even know her name. She knew her face, of course. Seen it enough times. Had never once thought to ask her name, mostly since Yoonji only saw her from a distance, said woman now often leaving Jungkook’s side whenever their friend group made time to meet up. Everyone teased him, your girlfriend? And this young, tall, tattooed punk would grin and not say anything. Jungkook was incapable of lying.

Just “keke,” and that was that.

Yoonji didn’t like it.

She was the only girl in her friend group. Probably equated to some internalized discourse if she bothered to go to therapy about it. But, during the time that she had been able to talk to a professional, she had kept the conversation about other people gender-neutral and without names. At the time, her relationships with others were all affected by her disconnected and toxic relationship with herself. She had to fix that first before moving forward. Back then, she had been suffering from the common syndrome of being depressed, stressed, and well-dressed.

Yeah.

Those rough years were not that funny, but at least Yoonji could joke about it now.

Anyway, about this woman.

This woman had actually showed up before her, sitting gracefully at the agreed-upon public park bench that Yoonji would soon encounter some stranger for an industrial-looking black chandelier that may or may not be real. The replies had been in broken Korean. Probably a foreigner using a translator. There was probably nothing to worry about, but the messages had been… weird. Asking about what Yoonji was doing after and such. No, she didn’t like it, and so she had asked Jungkook to accompany her. Dude looked like a tiger, his stripes being his multiple tattoos and facial piercings, but he had the soul of an adorable and vigorous bunny. Wouldn’t hurt anyone. Looked the part just in case anyone got the wrong idea. Boxed as well, for fun. But, instead of Jungkook, Yoonji was sent this woman who came with her snack of sweet tofu, silently and unashamedly eating it with a foldable spoon at the opposite end of the park bench.

Jungkook’s woman?

Who cares.

Was this worse or better than that punk? They dressed similarly, to be honest. The spoken-of woman was wearing all black. A baseball cap with an upside-down smiley face, leather jacket with matte-black metal spikes, charcoal baggy jeans, and a tight crop top with some kind of insane, probably satanic pattern on it. Yoonji snuck a peek. Circles and runes and horned devil heads, glossy print on fabric. Yup, downright hellish.

She abruptly realized she was staring at another woman’s tits and looked away immediately.

Clothed, but still.

This woman also sat like an insane person. Legs wide open compared to Yoonji’s crossed ones. Relaxed stance with a completely straight back. Refined and uncouth at the same time. It made no sense. Her hair curled around her shoulders and chin, loose and messy and intensely sexy.

She adjusted her cap and Yoonji darted her eyes around the park.

Looking for the seller.

Obviously.

Yoonji came dressed as she normally did. Comfortably, in a loose beige hoodie and similarly baggy slate blue jeans with rips in the knees. She wasn’t going to dress up for some musty dude and his lighting fixture, and definitely not for Jeon Jungkook. And not for Jungkook’s, uh…

Girlfriend?

Meh.

There was a strange shiver fluttering in her ribcage. Unease of being underdressed somehow, even though they were simply meeting up for this very specific task. They had not agreed to go anywhere after. Perhaps she would help carry the chandelier. Presumably it was broken down and in its box. Allegedly. Still, the box could be heavy. Yoonji checked her phone. Not time yet. Five more minutes. She had the brief thought that it could be possible for the seller to be late due to transporting a larger package. Awesome. Couldn’t wait for this continued awkward silence with her soft tofu devourer.

She sensed movement by her side.

The woman capped the now empty glass cup with a black plastic lid, foldable spoon inside it, and slipped the whole thing into her small backpack. She shoved it back to her side. Yoonji noticed there was photocard holder attached to it. She couldn’t see the artist since it had flipped around. The other side was black with some grey text on it. There was also a black strap with a grey flame hanging off the photocard holder. Huh. Seemed like she liked idols. At the very least music in general. Yoonji wanted to ask, but that seemed weird to bring up now.

“Jungkook tell you how he busted his knee?”

She almost jumped at the throaty, silken voice. Stopped herself. The other woman cleared her throat, her brows furrowing. It must have been due to the ginger syrup. Even with the slight distance, Yoonji had been able to smell the intense strength of the spice.

“Uh… no, he didn’t.”

The cap bobbed. “Hm. Good.”

Good?

Yoonji frowned. “What do you mean, good?”

Light shrug. “I can help you carry the box back to your place. I gotta head that way to go to the fitness store.”

The fucking one-eighty in topic didn’t throw Yoonji off in the slightest. She said enough by saying nothing. Yoonji watched the way those shaded eyes remained forward, not lifting her shoulders from the bench. Then those dark orbs shifted and suddenly Yoonji was stuck in a penetrating gaze with faint smile, feeling as if she knew something but didn’t really know it.

Those full lips were beautifully shaped.

Anyone would think that.

She bit her lip. Say something. “Why do you need to go to the fitness store?” Yoonji asked, chewing the dead skin off. It was a bad habit. Didn’t usually happen unless she was stressed.

The woman raised her hand. Graceful fingers. Neatly manicured nails. Dark purple with a cobalt blue shimmer. Could be a pianist’s hands, if it wasn’t for the almond-shape of those nails. Yoonji felt her own fingers tuck into the sleeves of her hoodie. She didn’t usually paint them. Kept her nails short due to her job, repairing and selling guitars. Of course, she was no poser and played them too. Sometimes, though, she thought about trying those fancy manicures girls had.

Then she remembered that wasn’t like her at all.

“I have carpal tunnel, so I have wrist compression braces. They’re getting kinda ratty. I wanted to buy some new ones.” She laughed, in a naughtily cheerful, almost bratty way. It was stupid attractive. “The people in the shop probably think I’m lifting weights but, nope. Just feeding my gaming addiction.”

Her eyes flickered up and down, checking out the other woman’s frame. Yoonji couldn’t tell the size of her arms but a vague assessment could be made from those thin pretty wrists and previous knowledge when viewing from afar. “You don’t look like you lift weights.”

“Hey, I’ve got some muscle.”

And much to Yoonji’s surprise, the woman brushed off the right shoulder of her leather jacket and flexed her arm, showing off the small hard lump of a bicep with a laugh. Not much there at all yet undoubtedly defined. She even smacked it with her left hand for sarcastic emphasis, and then pulled her jacket back on smoothly with a smirk.

“Only got that from jackin’ dick though.”

It was pretty funny, but Yoonji wasn’t laughing.

She was slack-jawed at the ease of vulgarity and the shameless confidence oozing out of every pore, suddenly realizing the reason why Jungkook was with this woman. Her rapid heartbeat choked her throat as her brain mentally replayed the swift, seamless movement of black leather falling off that slim shoulder. That accompanying playful smirk. The devious mirth in those scorched eyes.

That aggressive smack that did… something.

At that second, there was a cheery jingle that sounded from the woman’s jeans.

“That’s the time you said the seller is supposed to be here,” she said, fishing out her phone and turning off the alarm. “Where is he?”

Grateful for having an excuse to look away, Yoonji aimlessly swiped at her phone screen to keep her hands busy. “Let me check my messages.” Not getting flustered about it. Definitely not.

She had to face reality.

She’s straight.

At any rate, this woman and Jungkook were undeniably fucking. There was no question about that. Too many times it felt like Jungkook was arriving at the gatherings with a big grin and better mood after being seen with her. That was the face of a man getting laid, for sure. Whatever. Yoonji didn’t care about her friends’ dating or sex lives. It wasn’t her business. Most of the time the girls weren’t even her type.

Most of the time.

Not that she had a type. Or anything.

In this current season of life, she had already come to terms with her sexual orientation. Yoonji had known all her life that she was who she was. There had been no internal struggles about if it was true or not. It was. Still, there was no reason to directly say anything to anyone about it. After all, so far she had only dated and had sex with men. Most of her friends were men too. Status quo could remain since there was no good reason to challenge it. She also wasn’t the type to act on impulse. Not with the delicate line that was this. Yoonji had mentioned it to Hoseok at some point. Being the smart man he was, Hoseok had advised that her sexuality was something she didn’t have to broadcast if she didn’t want to. But, if she needed to do that to feel like herself, then he assured her that their friend group would be accepting of whatever choice she made.

And if not, he would kick them out.

She had felt very appreciative about that. However, the topic of her sexuality never came up in conversation with her friends, so Yoonji had never voiced or alluded to anything about it to the other guys. It wasn’t necessary, so she remained in her comfortable little bubble. She had not yet felt compelled to search for a community or meet specific people. It seemed troublesome. She was content with her current friends and her daily life kept her busy. Besides, there was no one to risk it for.

Certainly not for Jungkook’s…

Um.

Friend-with-benefits.

“What did he say?’

Yoonji jumped as the woman scooted closer, indicating her screen with the open Karrot app. She looked down, the realization setting in.

“The… The profile is deleted?”

The sudden annoyance and rage overpowered any uncomfortable feelings. Listing disappeared. Profile deleted. Even the in-app messages erased because the seller didn’t exist. The fuck? Ugh, that deal was too good to be true. It didn’t even exist. Must have been a cowardly creep that was watching them right now and lost his nerve since Jungkook’s friend was here perched like a bird of prey. Yoonji felt a growl boil in her chest. All this for nothing.

“Aw, man, it was fake? That sucks.”

Holy fuck, she smells good.

Like warm coffee with a sensual depth.

Wait, what?

“Hm, well, I won’t bother you any more then. I’ll go some other time to the fitness store. These things happen,” the woman sighed in disappointment, standing up and stretching, her small backpack and photocard holder swaying. Some guy in a leather jacket. At the moment, Yoonji was too furious to note who the idol was. “Get yourself something nice to eat, Min Yoonji. You’re already out.”

She frowned.

“Hey, I never caught your name.”

Those predator eyes flickered back. “Oh? I figured Jungook would tell you.”

Why is she playing games? “It never came up,” she snapped back.

That fucking smile.

Yoonji hadn’t known it then, but she had already fallen down the rabbit hole at this point.

“Ah, don’t get mad at me. I just thought it was kinda funny Jungkook would keep it from you. Wonder why.” Light shrug with her thumbs slipping into her pockets. “I should teach him to have better manners. My name is…”

-

“Come hang out with us, noona. It’s okay.”

“No, no, I don’t want to intrude. I would only be in the way.”

“But I’ll miss you.”

A small, coy smile. An elegant hand reached up and tucked a bit of black hair back under the beanie. The smile grew wider as those manicured fingers lingered by an ear adorned with five lobe earrings. A chain connected the first and last in the line. Flashy for someone who didn’t have a flashy personality – at least, not to strangers.

Min Yoonji watched Jeon Jungkook wiggle childishly, tugging on the sleeve of a black denim jacket covered with gothic patches. Skulls and cats and devils. Shit like that. When the woman stood next to Jungkook, they visually suited each other well. The younger man wore a grey beanie, a loose black silk shirt patterned with flourishing white text tucked into baggy, ripped jeans, and a simple black belt. Chunky black boots that matched the chain-covered heeled ones his companion was wearing. Underneath the patch-covered denim jacket, she wore a tight-fitted, dark grey jersey minidress that showed off her attractive and clearly feminine figure.

She knew she shouldn’t, and yet Yoonji still lingered by the other side of the bus stop LED advertisement, eavesdropping on the conversation between Jungkook and his mystery-title friend.

The stop was located right outside the brightly-lit bowling alley that she was supposed to be meeting her friend group at. Uncharacteristically, Yoonji had ended up late due to a train delay. She had skipped the bus ride and had run to her destination. There had also been reports of a minor road accident and Yoonji wasn’t going to wait any more. Besides, she had worn sneakers, jeans, and a white hoodie, along with a black ball cap with some distressed detailing. Nothing fancy.

Or ladylike.

She was meeting a bunch of dudebros anyway.

“You know, most guys would be happy to ditch an annoying girl to hang out with their friends,” the woman was saying, chuckling as Jungkook swung her arm in an arc.

“But you’re not annoying,” he was saying, spinning her around as if they were dancing. “Ah, I don’t even wanna go bowling anymore…”

The woman poked Jungkook on the side of the head, still letting him tug her around. How bothersome was that? But she acted as if he was being totally normal and not causing a bunch of passerby stares. “Don’t be like that. Besides, you have an addiction.”

And then, much to Yoonji’s surprise, Jungkook dropped the woman’s hand and reached out to hug her.

Except his hands were on the woman’s ass.

Yoonji frowned.

Idiot.

“Mhm, I do…”

“Get off me,” the woman laughed, her hands cradling his head. Yoonji got the impression that she didn’t mean it in a cruel way, especially since she was feathering kisses over Jungkook’s cheeks. Or it sounded like that. Her current angle wasn’t great. “If your friends see, they’re gonna tease you.”

“Who cares? They’re just jealous.”

No, I’m not.

She hadn’t said it out loud and yet Yoonji tensed, feeling heat rush over her cheeks.

Never mind.

“Aww, okay, okay, I’ll go now. I can come over tomorrow night, right?”

A wonderful, exasperated laugh. “Don’t you have work? You need to sleep.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” Jungkook huffed, detaching himself and backing up. “I’m gonna come over.”

“And I’m not gonna stop you. See you, silly boy.”

She yanked her body back behind the advertisement as Jungkook grinned and ran off into the bowling alley. He wasn’t the type to walk like a normal human being. But who cared about that? What did Yoonji just witness? Of course, she had seen her friends in relationships before. The handsome and elusive Kim Taehyung had maybe one or two serious relationships. The ever-so-flirty Park Jimin was notorious for dating around. Educated literary fiend Kim Namjoon had a girlfriend for a long while. It had ended badly. Her best friend Jung Hoseok had friends of all genders and various stages of depth in those relationships. Hoseok himself was protective of his heart but not opposed to giving love. As far was Yoonji knew, goofy and well-off Kim Seokjin hadn’t dated yet, however, she wouldn’t be surprised. That worldwide handsome face constantly attracted people.

And Jeon Jungkook?

He had the bad boy look, but never got close to anyone. He flirted, relentlessly, but always backed out when it got serious. All that looked pretty damn serious to Yoonji, though. That was good. Right?

Except.

It was early evening, but Yoonji felt strangely cold.

Shouldn’t I be happy for him? What’s wrong with me?

“Eh?!”

The gasp cut through her thoughts and she jumped back, startled, snapping her head up to…

Oh.

“Min Yoonji?”

Oh, shit.

Her lips were moving. Nothing was coming out. That was very unlike herself, what is wrong with me, her cheeks blaringly warm, and Yoonji finally got her name out, bluntly, instinctively tipping her head in respectful greeting while also feeling the dire need to hide her face.

“Oh, shit, my bad. I freaked you out, huh? Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you on the other side of the bus stop. Did you only just get here? Jungkook already went inside,” the woman was saying, and Yoonji found she couldn’t look her in the face for some reason.

I know. I mean, what?

“Sorry, again. Uh. You’re standing in front of the schedule. Huh. Looks like there’s a delay.”

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“My bad,” Yoonji quickly mumbled, sliding to the side. “You came here with Jungkook again, huh?”

A pause.

Why did I say it like that? Yoonji winced, resisting the urge to slap some common sense into herself. She lifted her head, realizing the way her tone must have sounded, searching for the woman’s expression under the brim of the cap. Something flitted over those features. As soon as it was faintly visible, the unknown emotion was gone, replaced by a faint smile. Wisps of wild hair casted shadows over those cheekbones due to the oncoming sunset. People were rushing past. Conversations, purposes, desires, but suddenly all Yoonji could see was the endless darkness of those scorched eyes framed by smoked lashes.

“Do you like Jungkook romantically, by chance?”

What!

“No!”

The word shot out of her mouth with such force that Yoonji backed up, shocked at her own reaction. The other woman looked taken aback, tilting her head, and there was no way to save this situation, stuck, frozen in this mortifying moment, completely forgetting her previous engagement.

Those plush pink lips looked like they had been kissed all night.

By Jungkook?

A sting dug deep into Yoonji’s heart.

“Oh, I thought…” An awkward laugh, and the woman readjusted the black strap of her bag over her chest. “I got the impression you didn’t like me because I’ve been stopping by with Jungkook lately. My bad. Didn’t mean to ask so bluntly like that. It was on my mind, though. I should get going. Have a good evening, then.”

A gentle wave.

A turn.

And before she knew what she was doing, Yoonji reached out and grabbed that denim sleeve.

“Wait.”

Those scorched eyes full of shadows returned and she found herself breathless at the sight of them.

She had to force herself to speak.

“You should come bowling with us. I’m always the only girl. It would be nice if…”

The goosebumps danced all over her skin. It was like asking someone out of a first date, except this person actually made her nervous and there was going to be a bunch of other people there, including the one was she probably actually dating.

“Would be nice if you hung out with us too, sometimes.”

Yoonji knew she should have added, Jungkook would be happy to see you. She didn’t for some reason. No, she knew the reason, but she bit back those thoughts and let go of that sleeve, not wanting to be too pushy about it. Chewed on her lip, peeling away at dry skin. The other woman seemed to contemplate for a second and shrugged, chuckling.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll go with you.”

It was at this moment that Yoonji knew.

She fucked up.

Too late now.

-

It wasn’t that bad.

There was some confusion, yes. Introductions, casual banter. Yoonji noticed that Jungkook seemed both surprised and a little hurt. What for? But then the woman went to stand next to him and whispered in his ear. He seemed much more satisfied after that. Yoonji busied herself with paying and picking out the right size for her bowling shoes. It was dark in here. Minors were no longer allowed since the bar was opening. The alleys were lit up with scattered color. Mood lighting. Jungkook loved that shit.

Yoonji noticed that they didn’t hold hands.

Interesting.

The women paid and was handed the beige and black bowling shoes. Their group was smaller today, just Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, and Seokjin. Honestly, Yoonji would have dropped out if Seokjin wasn’t coming with. The other three were younger and they were noisy. Kim Seokjin was loud as fuck too, but he was reasonable and matched Yoonji’s energy when she was feeling drained of the other three. The woman was chatting with Seokjin. They seemed to know each other to some extent. Why does everyone seem to know you but me? That wasn’t a fair assessment. Taehyung and Jimin were jostling Jungkook around, teasing him probably. They didn’t seem as familiar with her.

Hm.

The next notable moment was when they were sitting down and changing shoes. Yoonji glanced over, seeing her unzip her boots. Normal. Shifting line of vision. The hem of that tight dress was hiking up those soft thighs. Well, she hadn’t dressed to go bowling, after all.

Yoonji paused, wondering if she should say something.

Then, all of a sudden, Jungkook’s jean-covered butt was blocking her vision.

Hey!

Clicked her tongue, busying herself with the shoes. He didn’t have to do that. Nothing was happening here. The music was so loud that Yoonji found she couldn’t hear their conversation. Annoying. Until…

“Oh! You have Gengar socks!”

“They’re cute! Is Gengar wearing a pumpkin? Haha, it’s not Halloween though!” Taehyung was laughing.

“Aw, who cares.? You can’t see them anyway,” Jungkook’s lady was chuckling, yanking on the bowling shoes. “It’s Halloween every day in my heart.”

“I didn’t know you liked cute stuff, noona,” Jimin teased. “You seem so tough, but you’re a big softie, huh? Of course, you must be if you like our Jungkookie!”

“Bleh, shush,” came the exasperated sigh and hand wave. “The real tough one is Seokjinnie over here for putting up with you guys.”

Yoonji frowned. The two of them must be somewhat familiar for her to address Seokjin with such familiarity. It came up in conversation later, after a few strikes and pleas with a higher power to give Jimin better aim (no higher power answered but Taehyung did accidentally bowl for Jimin, uh huh). Apparently, Seokjin and Jungkook’s friend had met online through an online team-based game. Yoonji didn’t play video games because she wasn’t good at them. At least, compared to her friends. She was fine with watching though.

“You’re doing great today. You must have eaten something good.”

Yoonji gave Seokjin the side-eye. “Or maybe you’ve gotten worse. Online video games aren’t the same as a physical sport.”

“Hey! It’s all hand-eye coordination. Same, same!”

“At this rate, even Jimin will overtake you.”

Seokjin’s handsome face twisted in indignation. He had the kind of facial features that were model-envy if he wasn’t contorting them to some ridiculous expression. Like right now. “He cheated and made Taehyung bowl for him!”

“I did not!”

“Oh, really?”

She ignored their squabbling, only to freeze up once she realized who was sitting next to her.

“I’m pretty sure I’m doing the worst right now,” came the wry chuckle. “Thankfully, Jungkook shielded my pride and typed in Gengar instead of my name.”

“You’re doing okay,” Yoonji said quietly, glimpsing to her left. She caught the scent of something warm and tangy. Perfume.

O… Oh.

“That’s very nice of you to say, but I’m fifty points behind Jimin.” A sigh. “I think it’s my manicure. I should cut my nails a bit. They’ll grow back.”

Then, much to Yoonji’s surprise, the woman leaned over and unzipped her bag, moving things around.

“W-Wait, really?” Turned and she really was pulling out a small silver nail clipper and a cerulean blue glass nail file. “It’s just a bowling game. It’s not that serious.”

The other woman craned her head and lined up her the nail of her middle finger with the clipper. “Yeah, but I’m not really trying,” she was saying. Snip! “I don’t really like that. if I’m gonna lose, I should at least lose trying my best.”

Yoonji watched in stunned fascination as the woman trimmed down her black cherry manicure on three nails on what seemed to be her dominant hand. Middle finger, ring finger, and thumb. Only those. She left the index and pinky in their pointed almond shape. She held up her hand after, graceful fingers spread out.

O-Oh.

“I… I’m going to the bathroom for a sec.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll–”

But Yoonji didn’t stop to listen, walking away quickly, quickly, into the women’s bathroom and closing the stall door, doing nothing but immediately pinning her back to the door and exhaling hard. Ragged. Rough. What is wrong with me? She knew what was wrong. Yoonji placed her palms over her mouth and forced out another breath. There was flushing and water splashing and currently popular pop music drowning out the more unpleasant noises, but Yoonji was too busy trying to calm down the screaming in her head. This was bad. This was really bad. She had watched enough girl-on-girl porn to know… No. Obviously, Jungkook’s friend was going to clip the nails of her middle and ring finger. Those were the ones to hold the bowling ball. There was nothing more to it.

Just a coincidence.

Don’t be delusional.

This would be much easier if it was a man. Yoonji knew how to be cool and calm when it came to guys. Besides, the male mindset was too airheaded to pick up on subtlety anyway. But, what if a woman could…? She had already caught on to Yoonji acting weird earlier. Even thought she had romantic feelings with Jungkook. Pfft. Absurd. That kid was grown up now, but he was still only a bright-eyed eager bunny. No amount of tattoos or piercings would ever turn Jeon Jungkook from prey to predator, although he could look the part with enough working out. Jungkook was certainly her type when it came to looks but as far as personality, Yoonji was sure she would be worn out by Jungkook.

Wait.

Yoonji froze.

What?

She pushed her hair back. Another tick that happened due to her nervousness. Ha. Haha. I did not just think that about Jeon Jungkook. No. No, no, she was simply confused. That was all. Confused and working though who-the-fuck-knows-what. No. This had to stop. You have to compartmentalize this shit. This couldn’t keep happening. Stop acting weird. Pull yourself together. When it came down to it, Yoonji had to step out of this stall and chill the fuck out.

She couldn’t let it show.

Nobody is stopping you from getting off to her later.

Yoonji told her brain to shut up and left the stall.

-

Once their bowling game was over, the adults moved on to bigger and better things.

“You want the Gengar, right?”

“I don’t want anything. I don’t trust these things. Don’t waste your money.”

“Don’t be like that, noona. She totally wants the Gengar,” Taehyung talked over her, shoving in tokens so Jungkook could attempt the claw machine. Jimin stood at the far corner of the machine and pointed animatedly, calling to move a little more left, no, right, no, back more. Seokjin snorted at him to shut up. Yoonji watched as Jungkook failed, his broad shoulders dropping heavily as the round bright purple plush slid out of the metal claw and plopped back into the mound of colorful plushies, face-first onto its teasing red eyes and big grin.

“One more time,” Jungkook insisted.

“You don’t–”

She watched the younger man turn to the woman and pull a big pout. There was an exchanged glance between them. A muscle in Yoonji’s face twitched. This had been Jungkook’s third time trying to get something from the claw machine. Their group was crammed in a corner of the arcade in the bowling alley, a couple drinks in, squabbling for a damn Gengar plush for their newcomer. It wasn’t the situation that was bothering Yoonji, but rather how adamant Jungkook was that it had to be him winning it.

This guy is so freaking annoying.

Yoonji reached between their bodies and jammed her own tokens in.

“Go ahead, then.”

She shoved Jungkook’s shoulder and broke the shared gaze between him and his lady friend. Jungkook snapped his head to the machine, startled as the lights flashed and the red timer came on, letting out a surprised yelp as he fought to move the clunky claw back to the faceplanted Gengar.

He had never tried so hard before for his other friends.

Hmph.

“Oh, shit! YAH!”

“LET’S GOOOOOOO!”

“Taehyung, stop yelling!”

“Well, shit. You did it.”

“I told you I would,” Jungkook roared triumphantly, yanking out the purple Pokémon plush and holding it up like a prestigious award. “Da-dang!”

“Fourth time’s a charm?” she laughed as Jungkook grabbed her hands and spun them palm up to delicately rest the incredibly round Gengar plush on them. Yoonji noticed he didn’t linger and pulled away quickly. “Thank you, then, haha.”

Seokjin, Jimin, and Taehyung were acting like Jungkook had just won a damn rice cooker on a prestigious game show, crowding around him and giving him high fives. Yoonji shook her head, glad it was over, and felt a hand on her shoulder. Froze as she looked up to scorched eyes twinkling brightly in neon lights of the arcade machines.

“Here. Sorry you had to use your tokens for me.”

Yoonji tried to push back to the coins suddenly placed in her palm. “No, it’s fine, I don’t–”

“I wouldn’t want to owe you.”

“I–”

Then she froze, realizing her hands were clasped around the other woman’s right. Holding the Gengar plush in her left, tucked underneath her breasts. The naughtily cheerful grin was aimed straight at Yoonji, silently laughing as if it had seen and knew everything. Before she could react, a handful of coins was dumped in her palm and her fingers were closed around it, pinned by a dark cherry manicure. Middle, ring, and thumb trimmed short.

Her heartbeat shot up to her throat.

“Yoonji-noona, come play this one with me!”

Her head snapped up. The other woman smiled at her calmly. Park Jimin grabbed Yoonji’s sleeve and dragged her to a racing game. That didn’t mean anything. It didn’t. I wouldn’t want to owe you. Why not? What was wrong with her? What was so much better about dork-ass Jeon Jungkook who was sucked into playing Tekken versus Kim Taehyung without a second thought? The other woman turned away and went to stand behind Jungkook, next to their consistent heckler Kim Seokjin, still holding onto the Gengar plush. Yoonji turned to sit down next to Jimin, suddenly mad she didn’t think of the claw machine first, why, she could have done it in less tries, she was sure of it.

“You alright?”

“What?” she snapped.

Jimin raised his eyebrows at her. Yoonji stilled. Somehow, Jimin always knew something was up. Oh, he did care if his friends were having a hard time. He also low-key lived for drama. High-key, even. He was a sneaky bitch behind an innocent face. Instead of answering, Yoonji jammed tokens into the machine, both for Jimin and herself, and cocked her eyebrow back at his suspicious, searching expression, placing her hands on the steering wheel.

“I’m gonna smoke ya,” she declared.

“I haven’t yet – HEY!”

Yoonji absolutely demolished him in the virtual race. Twice. Get rekt, Jimin-ah.

-

Sulky.

Well, no. Not really.

A little bit.

Ugh, fine.

Min Yoonji silently admitted she was sulky.

Just trying to figure out what was so great about Jeon Jungkook. She flicked through his Instagram, not impressed. It was a pretty dead account, as Jungkook had been very into keeping an aesthetic layout for a few months and then promptly abandoned the account when he got tired of it. He had commitment issues. The aesthetic he had chosen was the digital photo, found film vibe that had been popular when the kid was literally in elementary school and probably had no idea what social media even was. His TikTok was somewhat similar, with lots of effects and editing in the short videos. Also mostly abandoned, although Yoonji suspected his accounts were more for lurking and liking stuff than displaying himself.

Jungkook had a few candid, artsy photos of him shirtless that Yoonji wished she hadn’t seen.

Hah, why post that if you can’t even provide a decent picture?

She found that she was lingering on a side profile photo of him for a few seconds. Black and white. Ghost of a smile on his lips and his short black hair messily over his crinkled eyes. From this angle, one could see the definition of his jaw and the mole on his neck, plus the three piercings on his left ear. His shoulder was bare, a medium-weight linked chain loosely hanging on his neck.

Abruptly, Yoonji swiped away.

He doesn’t have a single photo of her on here.

There were occasional photos that included Jimin and Taehyung, (including one of Jimin’s hand photobombing a seriously poised Taehyung, Yoonji could recognize that tiny pinky anywhere), but not really anyone else. This didn’t surprise Yoonji too much, as over half of the photos were scenery shots, but surely a photo of a pretty woman would get likes? She frowned, then froze. There was a reel posted way down there, towards the beginning of the account’s creation. At first, it hadn’t caught her attention since the photo was a black screen, but then she clicked on it and listened to the audio. It was someone playing guitar.

But not just anyone.

After about ten seconds of black screen, the camera lifted from its spot and it showed Min Yoonji several years ago, leaning over a black acoustic guitar, playing a melody she had made up on the spot. She remembered that night. She had been at Kim Namjoon’s house, they had gotten drunk, and Jeon Jungkook had shown up at three in the morning for who-the-hell-knows-what reason. She had brought her guitar that night on a low-key depressed whim. Namjoon dabbled in music too, sometimes, not just produced it, so Yoonji occasionally brought her guitar to play for fun. They were longtime friends.

She hadn’t noticed that Jungkook had filmed her.

The caption read, music that makes you fall in love.

“… What?”

It had startled her so much that she hadn’t even realized she spoke out loud.

Ah, what was she thinking? This was years ago. Past was in the past. There wasn’t anything else interesting on here. Funnily enough, the specific melody Jungkook had complimented, Yoonji had turned into a breakup song. Sure, she had never really published her music past her SoundCloud, but she still made songs for fun even though she wasn’t trying to become an idol or anything of the sort. Would be cool to be a producer though.

It was only a damn reel.

There was no serendipitous shit going on here.

Yoonji rubbed her eyes. They were close, yes. Jungkook often came to her for practical life advice when Namjoon was a bit too philosophical. His words, although Yoonji could agree. She was known as the pragmatic one in the group. Something she learned in therapy, actually. Focusing on what could be done right now instead of fixating on the what-ifs of the future. The youngest did exasperate her sometimes, however it was an endearing kind of exasperation that she welcomed. He, unlike some other young people, expressed his gratitude often.

He called her cute often, too.

Not that… Not that other people didn’t. Hoseok did all the time. Well, Yoonji did go to Hoseok a lot for outfit opinions when she had an occasion. Jungkook also expressed skinship, usually resting his head on Yoonji’s shoulder or putting a hand on her back, even though he didn’t usually imitate with other people. Physical touch was not something Yoonji liked. She tolerated it if it was Jungkook, but he really hadn’t been touchy since…

Wait.

Why the fuck was she thinking about Jungkook?

This ain’t about you!

Right. So, anyway, since Jungkook had started seeing this woman, he hadn’t posted her on his social media, hadn’t initiated physical touch with Yoonji, and expressed neediness when the two were alone but treated the lady like a friend when in front of his friends. He didn’t even invite her to their gatherings despite having many opportunities, yet also specifically made them all wait for him to win her a plush prize that directly related with her interests.

Which all equated to Jeon Jungkook sending the most confusing batch of mixed signals Yoonji had ever analyzed.

A muscle in her face twitched.

Yoonji chewed on her lip. She wondered if she should scroll through those Jungkook was following to maybe find the woman’s account. Was that going too far? Sure, social media profiles were generally public, but actively looking for someone for dubious reasons seemed wrong. Not that her reasons were dubious.

Right.

She looked back to her phone screen.

It was somehow displaying a photo of Jungkook’s naked back. Again, black and white. Standing in a gym. The background was slightly blurred, but the hint of Jungkook’s toned front was unmistakable. Yoonji frowned and swiped it away, scrolling distractedly. She didn’t think about him like that. He was a dork. The woman he was dating was smoking hot. Were they dating, though? That was the whole point of this investigation. For fuck’s sake. Although Jungkook gave the impression he was a playboy, Yoonji knew he wasn’t. He didn’t have the damn attention span to be a player and he was obviously scared of hurting other people’s feelings. Still, there weren’t any telltale signs of them dating-dating. Which shouldn’t bother Yoonji anyway, because she didn’t get involved in her friend’s dating lives, so why the fuck did she care?

Plus, she’s probably straight.

Jungkook was a pretty manly man.

But what if she’s not?

There was literally nothing Yoonji could work off of in that regard except for the look in those dark scorched eyes when she closed her hand around Yoonji’s hand, holding her tight and within direct eye contact. There was literally not a single reason for her to believe that look meant anything other than what was said.

And yet.

I’m being delusional.

Jungkook and her looked good together. Yeah. They were probably gonna work out. Uh huh. It was just rough for her because this was one of the first few real moments that Yoonji felt strongly attracted to someone outside of purely sexual reasons.

Woah.

Woah, hold on there.

She knew for a fact she liked women sexually. Her porn history was enough evidence of that. She had been attracted to women she had met over the years, sure, but never had Yoonji pursued a woman, both because of the social stigma and also because she figured only doing it for the sexual desire seemed wrong. If anyone found out, Yoonji didn’t want to feel like it was for nothing.

So why am I stalking Jungkook on Instagram just for a glimpse of her?

And Yoonji couldn’t like her. She barely knew her. Right? They couldn’t have developed any emotional connection in their very minimal interactions. Yoonji placed her phone down, backing away from it like it was a bomb. These impulses… She couldn’t stop thinking about the woman holding the Gengar next to her chest. Couldn’t stop thinking about Jungkook dancing her around on the sidewalk. Couldn’t stop thinking about the woman casually eating her dessert in the park as if she owned the whole damn world.

Did Yoonji want to be her?

Or did she want to be with her?

Yoonji hadn’t allowed herself to fantasize yet because fantasizing about a real person felt much more abhorrent than a total stranger. It was a door she couldn’t bear to open yet. And, worse.

She didn’t know if she could stop if she started.

-

ep 2. what a shame. (see you friday) sugar, spice, and everything nice

--

min yoonji masterpost | masterpost

[a-boca-do-inferno]

i’ve been losing you (michael corleone x reader) [request]

summary: Michael is used to a lot of things. Losing’s not one of them.

warnings: angst

words: 1.0k

notes: loosely based on ive been losing you by aha, and yes i kno i kno. another songfic lol enjoy.

This was long overdue. 

They were meant to be in each other’s path, but not for long. She knew that. No matter how well they got along in the old days, rejoicing in that youthful love full of energy and innocence, there would always come the time when their personalities eventually clashed too much to make it work. His reckless and cold mind could never comport her sensitive and careful one for long. Gosh, how many dinner arguments had to happen to spoil the mood for her to just accept it already?  

There was nothing left to do with Michael Corleone. He ran an empire, yet was clueless on how to keep the woman he loved close. And a king who can’t love a queen is simply no such thing.  

(y/n) takes a deep breath and raises her fist to knock on the door, but as soon as she tries to do so, it opens on its own, revealing a somewhat disturbed Michael. He has a serious, almost mad look on his face, although his entire countenance manages to be cordial. She smiles faintly as he lets her in, closing the door behind her gracefully.  

The girl walked into his office and couldn’t help but notice how tidy everything was. Nothing out of place, not a single speck of dust on any furniture. Sometimes she wished at least something was there; it’d make the place feel less...  

Michael’s.  

“You said you were staying at you mother’s”, he begins, hiding his hand in the front pockets of his pants. “What happened?”, his tone is stern, as ever, and she can’t help but contain a sigh. (y/n) clasped her hands over her stomach, feeling a little cool. She wasn’t exactly there for some hugging and cuddling, after all, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Noticing the shift in her behaviour, Michael murmurs, “(y/n)…”, and the girl turns to face him. He wore a white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His brown hair was brushed back, no unruly strands fell to the sides. He was so handsome and put together. How in the world did they even end up together in the first place? Michael’s eyes were a little concerned when he demanded, coming closer to her, “tell me what’s the matter.” 

“Nothing”, she said, looking away when he seemed to disapprove of her blatant lie. (y/n) added, “there is nothing wrong, we just... We need to talk.” 

“About what?”, he gestures with one hand. “You’re making me worried”, she let out another deep sigh. This was going to be harder than she thought. Michael took an impatient step forward and gave her a questioning glance, lowering his eyes to her restless fingers. “Well?” 

“I can’t do… this anymore”, she couldn’t face him, counting the scratches of the floorboards under her feet. “Us.” 

There is a long silence before Michael speaks again. “(y/n)...”, he starts, closing the distance between them while gently taking her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. He placed a lingering kiss on her knuckles and she instantly flinched at the gesture, taking her hand back. He gave her a pained look. “What’s going on, darling?” 

“Michael, please...”, she whispered, trying her best to maintain her composure. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is.” 

“You’re leaving me?”, he rips the band-aid, and it sounds somehow even more painful when she hears it out loud. “Is that it?”, Michael insists, and she desperately looks for the emotions on his face only to find none.  

This. This was what she couldn’t take anymore. 

“I am”, (y/n)’s voice is final, as the lump on her throat takes a step back to give way for her assertiveness. That decision was made already, she merely wanted to let him know. “I know I’m hurting you, but you too know damn well there is no “us” anymore, Michael.  There is only the family business, and I came to terms with it at last. I finally understood I can’t be part of this.” 

“So, is that it?”, he repeats, but it’s clear he’s not looking for an answer. “You just wake up one day and decide to throw our family, our children, our love away? You just leave when it gets hard?”, he menacingly takes one more step closer, with almond eyes forcefully staring at the girl. “Is that it?!”, then it comes; the scream.  

And the sound is so otherworldly coming from Michael’s mouth, (y/n) has to reassure herself of her surroundings for a moment, to truly know if this is reality. Then, after the silence, there is only his look of despair towards her. She knows him well enough to understand he is distressed but won’t allow himself to engage any further in that subject for now. He is too emotional about this. Perhaps that was why Michael kept away from her more and more every day. The Don wouldn’t have his heart dictating his actions, in business or in love, and the two were helplessly intertwined when it came to his life.  

“I’m leaving”, she murmurs, holding her own body protectively. “You can visit the children whenever you want, we will be staying at my mother’s for the time being”, they exchange a piercing look. (y/n) avoids his eyes. “I love you, Michael, I truly do. But we both deserve better.” 

“This isn’t over, (y/n)”, it’s all Michael lets out, while turning his back to light up a cigarette. He blows away the smoke and nods once, pointing to the door. “Go.” 

She obeys him, because it’s so much easier to do so than to keep fighting. Before (y/n) leaves, she can’t help but think he would make her life a living hell. A shiver goes up her spine as the door shuts behind her. Michael Corleone may not be fit for a king, but he wasn’t a losing man either. She was painfully aware of that.  

“God help us all”, she mumbles to herself, walking away from the Corleone mansion for the last time. 

Or so she hoped. 

[cityof2morrow]

CDK: Cubic Dynamics Kitbash - BACKSTORY

Published: 9-14-2024 | Updated: N/A

SUMMARY The Cubic Dynamics Kitbash (CDK) Series is game-ready and will be released over the coming weeks! It includes over 250 items to set up offices, corporations, and other public services. Classic CC gems have been updated with fresh, retro-futuristic detail alongside dozens of new career-themed objects. Simmers in need of “white-collar” environments for their build-a-city challenges (BACC) and/or integrated economy saves will appreciate this collection.

The CDK series includes furniture and a variety of props you’ll need to create functional workplaces. Food, retail, and leisure don’t need to be the only reasons to send sims downtown – time to get to work! Get started with the Company Expo (Simmons, 2024) set, which contains the meshes you’ll need, and browse the series for more! See the #co2cdkseries and #ofbprops tags on this site.

DETAILS (aka THE BACKSTORY) What began as a handful of items for a bank lot grew into the CDK series over nearly two years. I had mods for a fully functional financial operation but lacked CC to simulate the depths of corporate clownery I wanted to . . . sims buzzing about the machine like good little cogs. A binding contract here, a little interest charge there, another meeting that could’ve (and should’ve) been an email, “fill out this form and we’ll get back to you in 3-5 business days!” I knew I wasn’t going to stop at the bank either. My doctors, writers, politicians, and other professionals needed places to do business as well. So, I started with the furniture. I wanted objects that looked timeless (“retro”) but modern (“fit for a futurist”). Pieces needed to be interchangeable (as cogs in the machine often are) and look like they were mass-produced specifically for the corporate world. This called for décor that was uniform (repeating metal, glass, wood, and upholstery), utilitarian (“comfortable enough for the job at hand”), yet unique (“enough to make rank and role clear”). The result was several themed rooms built on the lore and look of the Cubic Dynamics collection (EA/Maxis, 2008). Conformity. Productivity. Efficiency. All the hallmarks of white-collar hell. I added a few supporting sets here and there – wherever it seemed like a good fit. Once I had the right look and feel, I moved on to gameplay. GAMEPLAY and PREFORMANCE A handful of objects have been (re)made to give those simlish practitioners, pencil-pushers, and bureaucrats something to do. These are based on my own gameplay needs, as well as suggestions from folks with similar playstyles like @ChocolateCitySim, @Rachums, @Gayars, and @Yessu. They range from printers to job boards to loan contracts. I recommend using them alongside other mods to give your sims lots of things to do in the workplace. You’ll find them under the #ofbprops tag.

The CDK series is mostly low-poly and uses the repository technique to save game resources. Some high-poly objects are included but they can be easily discarded  – they’re not required and there are dozens of others to choose from – office chairs tend to be higher in poly count in general. There are some items (and thumbnails!*!) I wish I could perfect , but why let “perfect” win over “well done?”

[catboyfelixer]

I Hope You’ll Always Be My Guardian Angel | Lee Felix

Pairing: Felix x GN!Reader Summary: Felix is a guardian angel-in-training, and you’re his last assignment before he can graduate. Genre: Fluff, Humor Notes: Jeongin also makes an appearance in this <3

All Felix could hear was pencils on paper scribbling away, students flipping to the back of the test that he had finished half an hour ago. This was not his first rodeo. This wasn’t even his second rodeo. But every time he failed his in-person assessment, he had to come back and do the written test all over again.

All he wanted to do escape the white walls, floors, uniforms, furniture, everything, and get back to Earth. The only other color in the room were the black numbers on the white clock, ticking agonizingly slow. Normally he would drift off into daydreams about his next assignment on Earth to pass the time. But lately those daydreams would turn into embarrassing memories of failing his exams on Earth and dread about failing them all over again.

At least he wasn’t alone. Most of his classmates had passed on their first try, but Jeongin being here too made him feel a bit better. He was asleep on the desk next to Felix’s, drooling a bit on the test. He always looks peaceful, even smiling in his sleep. Felix wishes he could be this laid-back about failing as many times as they have. Whenever Felix has doubts about ever graduating, Jeongin throws an arm around him and tells him they’ll make it eventually, even if it takes a hundred years. Hopefully they’ll both pass this time, and join their friends as full-fledged guardian angels.

The instructor rings the chimes, playing a melodic tune to signal the end of the exam. Felix shakes Jeongin awake, and they get ready to find out who they’ll be assigned to for the next two weeks.

You slammed the door to your apartment as you walked in, and dropped your bag on the ground. The loud thud didn't startle you, and you didn't care about all your textbooks splaying out. Who cares about the tripping hazard.

Yeah, it was one of those days.

First, you spilled coffee on your new shirt. You were too far from home to change and you were running late for class anyway.

Second, none of your group had anything prepared for their parts in the group project. Nothing! They had two weeks to do literally anything. You'll have to bring this up to the professor before the presentation tomorrow.

Third, your laptop just completely died during your last class of the day. All the notes you took- gone.

Fourth, you banged your elbow on the door frame on the way out of class. Maybe you would've been calm if it was only three things. But come on.

You're lucky nothing happened on the way home, who knows if you would've lost your mind.

You hear a knock at the door. After a brief pause, there are two more louder knocks.

Fifth, someone's at your door. On your bad day.

You mentally compose yourself, taking a deep breath before walking to the door.

When you open it, you're blinded by bright lights enveloping a figure in the hallway. You cover your eyes and hear a voice.

"Oh, sorry. Let me turn that down." The figure reaches up and turns down the light coming from the halo on his head.

...

...Halo?

You look back, and see a man dressed in all white from head to toe. He has shoulder length blonde hair, what seems to be a halo floating on top of his head, and a pair of translucent wings behind him.

"Um... Be not afraid?" he says, tilting his head as if he's the one confused here.

You just stare at him blankly. Why is there a man dressed like an angel at your door.

He sticks out his hand, hoping for a handshake. When you just continue staring at him in bewilderment, he clears his throat and tries again.

"Hello, my name is Felix and I'll be your guardian angel for the next two weeks." The way he says it is stilted, as if he's practiced saying this beforehand.

"What?" is all you manage to say at first. This is so completely bizarre.

"I've never been good at this part. Can I come in? It'll be easier to explain if I can sit down and read my cue cards," he explains, already walking past you and into the living room behind you. He trips on the bag you left on the floor and stumbles into a side table, knocking over a potted plant.

Sixth.

He stands up, wipes the dirt off his pants, and continues walking like nothing happened. He sits down on the old black leather couch your parents gave you and some cue cards appear in his hands out of thin air.

He flips through them, nodding at each card before they magically disappear when he's finished reading them. Looking up at you, he smiles and pats the couch next to him, which you ignore.

"Like I said, my name is Felix and I'm in training to be a guardian angel. You're my assignment for my exam. Nice to meet you!" He puts out his hand for you to shake again, and this time you hesitantly take up the offer.

"Ok, let me get this straight. Guardian angels exist. Ok. I guess this might as well happen," you start, finally taking a seat across from him, "But why only two weeks? Do I just... not get a guardian angel after that?"

"Don't worry, you didn't have one before this and you were just fine, right?"

Considering the day you just had, that's debatable.

"Why does an angel need to take an exam? Aren't you, like, just born knowing how to angel?"

"No, that's silly. And also, I wasn't born," he says, not elaborating on why that's silly or how angels are made.

"I wasn't born either," you lie. You shouldn't be the only one caught off guard today.

"Oh, that's interesting," he responds. He pulls out a notepad and a pencil and writes that down. Did he... believe you?

Somehow you find that endearing. Just a little bit.

"Oh yeah, I have more cue cards to get through."

He follows behind you on your walk to the grocery store like a puppy. Every so often he yells out "BE CAREFUL!" just before you step on a rock.

"WATCH OUT!"

He pulls you towards him, wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking his chin in the crook of your neck. He's unexpectedly warm, warmer than any person you've been in an embrace with. Are angels known to be warm? You'll have to look that up later. You subconsciously lean into him, and against your own will, you notice your heart beating harder in your chest.

You look around, expecting a bike to be barreling towards you or something, but he points to the ground where a squirrel runs by your feet. When it's gone, he lets you go, and the warmth retreats too. You turn around to question him, but he starts talking first.

"Phew, that could've been dangerous, good thing I was here," he says. He wipes some non-existent sweat off his forehead and gives you a thumbs up.

"There's no way that would've been dangerous," you start, but he's too busy mentally patting himself on the back for a job well done. He doesn't hear you at all.

You sigh, and you guess this is what your life will be like for the next two weeks.

When you get to the store, no one seems to notice the wings or the halo. But what they do notice is the kindhearted guy helping the little old lady get some organic cereal off the top shelf, and the pretty boy making funny faces at a crying baby to calm her down. You definitely notice the cute way he furrows his brow while reading the shopping list, making sure you didn't forget anything. And how he offers to carry the heavy bags for you when you finish paying. He's lifting an entire bag of flour under one arm, and two more reusable shopping bags with his other hand. He's kind of... nice to have around, you think.

You don't think about his pretty face or his toned arms carrying your groceries, not at all.

The two of you walk home, side-by-side. Your thoughts wander to what happens after. Will he go inside the apartment again? Where is he living while on Earth. He's not expecting to stay the night, is he? You just met him. Then again, he is your guardian angel. If anything, it's probably better to have him close by. Just in case. You turn to ask him where he's staying, but he suddenly stops in his tracks and stares past you, further down the street. He squints to see something, and then a big goofy smile spreads across his face.

You look, and there's two men in the distance. One is just a regular dude eating a hotdog. The other guy... is another angel. He's wearing the same all white outfit as Felix, and there's a halo floating above him emitting a soft light.

"Jeongin!" he calls out, and when the angel turns, his translucent wings catch the light of his halo and become barely visible.

'Jeongin' smiles brightly and waves in your direction. Felix drops your groceries and jogs to catch up with his friend. They do a complicated handshake and start talking, which would be cool if you weren't left with all the heavy bags on the ground.

Above you, you hear a man shout 'Mamma mia!' and when you look up, a giant black blur falls out of a balcony.

A crash roars through the street, followed by a perfect C major chord, and when Felix turns around there's a broken grand piano where you once stood.

"Ah.... shoot."

The last thing Felix sees before being teleported away is the man next to Jeongin falling over after choking on his hot dog.

A moment later, and Felix is back in a very familiar room. White walls, white carpet, a white couch and a white coffee table greet him once again. He takes a seat, and Jeongin appears in the room too.

"I lasted longer this time!" Jeongin exclaims, punching his fist in the air as a show of victory.

"By literally half a second."

"Still counts," Jeongin responds, and Felix rolls his eyes.

"So what happened to your guy?"

"I think the hotdog was bad, I don't know," Jeongin says, scratching his chin. "He got it from back of some guys car. Maybe food poisoning."

The sound of the door swinging open grabs their attention, and they watch as their principal walks in.

"How can there already be two people back, the exam just start- oh"

Principal Park sighs as he looks at the two students in his office. Of course it's these two again. He adjusts his glasses and addresses them.

"You both know the drill, be back for the written test in two weeks," he says, and leaves them alone in the lobby again.

Felix stands up to leave, and a familiar phrase escapes his lips.

"You know, I'm starting to think we might not be good at this."

Jeongin wraps his arm around Felix's shoulder, and says the same thing he always does when doubt creeps in.

"This was just a test round! Next time is the real deal. We'll get it for sure!"

And with that, they leave to prepare for their next exam, memories of their latest failure already being buried away.

[seokgyuu]

→ GENRE: smut, college au, crack

→ PAIRING: Chan(Dino)x Afab!Fem!Reader

→ SYNOPSIS: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

→ WARNINGS: neighbor!dino, angry sex kinda??, teasing, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, squirting, bandage but not really?? yn‘s hands just get tied together, dino uses the words “sweetheart” and “darling” a lot, begging

→  WORDCOUNT: 12k (I don’t know what happened here fr… i snapped)

previous; masterlist ; next

A/N: Hi guys! I am back with this monster of a chapter (tumblr is literally lagging as I write this??)! This time our maknae <3. Going to be honest, the Chan brainrot was THERE these past months. This chapter is one of my favs, not because of the smut necessarily, but because of a few scenes that i just... yeah. Also, the mess gets even messier. *Innocent giggle*. Have fun reading and if you want to be added to the taglist please fill out the form!

taglist: @ariachavez168, @sandcasltes, @amiga-qmilagraso, @learnthisfeeling, @cersti-mo0, @nixtape-foryou, @minahoeshi, @listxn, @starlight-night0, @havetaeminforbreakfast, @kwonranghae, @haogyuslut, @a-dramatic-girl, @lovercuff, @grapefruithan, @whyokoa, @lovercheol, @cosmicupoftea, @learnthisfeeling, @knucklesdeepmingi, @wonusworldd, @baldi-2, @seventeencaratworld, @kingalls00, @1-800-jeonwonwoo, @hoeforhao, @p-dwiddle-blog, @tsukimiyuukun, @urfavtallgirl222, @jordand2012, @lcvejordyn, @jeanjacketjesus, @gaebestie, @hara-98-fan @cersti-mo0 (if your name is crossed out it's because i can't tag you!)

The sunlight was shining through the pretty dark green curtains. Once the light hit you, your eyes flew open, taking in your surroundings at once. The first thing you noticed was yourself. The enormous mirror on the ceiling was having you stare at your own figure, the soft blanket draped over you and only your right leg sticking out, naked and a reminder of last night’s events. The bed was empty next to you, no sign of Seungcheol anywhere and you slowly sat up, letting one hand run through your hair. When he had said that he had a room at the hotel, you had not expected it to be a whole suite he lived in basically all year round (or well, whenever he visited Seoul during his time abroad). The bedroom you were currently in was at least the size of the room you had dined (and fucked) in yesterday, with high windows and a beautiful view of the river. The floor was dark wood, and a soft looking carpet laid right in front of the king size bed. There was a fireplace across from you with a flatscreen TV hanging over it. All in all, the room wasn’t decorated much but impressive at the same time. You slowly got out of bed, your feet touching the carpet you only now realized was spread underneath the bed as well, and you held the thin, soft blanket up, so it covered your naked body. There was a bathroom attached to the room as you saw now, wondering how much you had actually missed when he had led you in here last night. But then again you hadn’t really paid much attention to the interior when you had gotten here. A slight blush crept over your cheeks as you let your eyes linger on the bed behind you for a second, suddenly remembering vividly how he had felt, how he had touched you, tasted you, made you cum so hard you had to beg for a break before you could do anything else. Gosh, he had been so incredibly sweet, kissing your body, caressing your skin, holding you close until you turned around and kissed him, making him aware of you wanting him once more.

Quickly, before the memories became too much too soon, you shook your head and walked over to the door, hoping to find Seungcheol out there. The living space was open and had just as minimal decoration as his bedroom, but it looked a little brighter. The curtains here were crème colored and the furniture about the same. The big leather couch was white and had all kinds of pillows on top of it, the TV was basically a whole wall. There were end tables on each side of the couch, holding books and a lamp and you were impressed by the magnificent carpet spread underneath it. The kitchen space was the same amount of bright, a big island in the middle with four bar stools in front of it – one of them holding Cheol who was on the phone with his laptop propped on top of the island. He hadn’t noticed you yet, too immersed in whatever he was doing. You slowly made your way over to him, stretching out your hand once you were close enough to place it on his shoulder. He turned around, surprise on his face for just a second before his features softened and he smiled, his free hand wandering to yours and bringing it to his lips to softly plant a kiss on your knuckles.

“Yes, Mr. Jang, we will definitely get back to you on that. I wish you a pleasant Sunday.” He hung up and suddenly you were lifted up, a yelp escaping you as the blanket slid from your fingers, leaving you naked and now sitting on the kitchen island that felt extremely cold on your bottom.

“Oppa!” you squeaked, and he laughed, before both of his hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs stroking your jaw as he pulled you into a deep kiss that made you melt right into his frame. You let your hands rest on his shoulders for a little while, only to fully wrap your arms around his neck once he deepened the kiss, his own hands wandering to the small of your back to pull you even closer. You didn’t know how he did it, but your mind went blank and all you felt and saw was him, the only thing you wanted was for him to take you again, to make you feel as precious as he had last night. And yet you also knew that these feelings needed to go, you couldn’t let this persona of his make you forget that you still had your pride on the line. Not to mention if you let this get to your head it would very likely cost you your friendship with Jiwoo.

With that thought on the forefront of your brain, you softly pushed him away, your eyes finding his.

“Oppa,” you started, letting one hand rest on his cheek, “I should leave.”

“Do you want to leave?” He asked now, letting his hands rest on the island next to your thighs. Sighing, you bit your lip.

“It’s not about me. I probably shouldn’t have slept with you in the first place, hell, I shouldn’t have agreed to go on a date with you, but I did. And now I need to end this before-,”

“Before what?” Cheol slightly tilted his head, his deep brown eyes staring into yours. You swallowed.

“It doesn’t matter. I need to go. All of this,” you used your hands to gesture around the room, “is something that isn’t me, shouldn’t be me. Can’t be me. And you, god, you are my best friend’s brother and she adores you, I can’t- she would hate me if she knew.”

You somehow managed to escape him, hopping off the counter and grabbing the blanket to wrap it around yourself again. Seungcheol watched you, arms crossed over his broad chest, and you had trouble looking away, the memories still so fresh in your mind.

“You don’t know if she would, Y/N,” he began, shaking his head, “you’ve already made up your mind about Jiwoo even though you haven’t talked to her.”

You stared at him. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you desperately tried to sort your own thoughts and feelings. What was he even talking about? There wasn’t anything to discuss with Jiwoo, even if she was okay with you sleeping with Seungcheol – what did it matter? You weren’t going to do this again; you couldn’t possibly do this again because it would only lead to complications that you did not feel the need to experience again.

“Oppa, it doesn’t matter, okay? This was a one-time thing, you and me. I thought that was clear?”

Seungcheol fell silent. Mainly because, yes, you were right. It was supposed to be a one-time thing. He felt attracted to you from the second he saw you and it was obvious you felt the same. As he had told you yesterday, he always got what he wanted and last night that had been you. He had wanted you and he had gotten you. So why was he acting this way? Why did the thought of you leaving out the door and not turning back make him feel like this? Like he wished he could make you stop, make you stay. With him.

Pulling a hand through his hair, he averted his eyes and just shook his head.

“Yeah. You’re right. One-time thing,” he mumbled then, still not looking at you. And he decided to just turn around and get back to his work on the laptop instead of trying to convince you to stay. A mix of relief and disappointment filled you when you saw him sit back down, your brain scolding you for feeling the latter part. Without saying another word, you walked back into the bedroom and got dressed, hoping the taxi fee home wouldn’t completely bomb your bank account.

When you walked out again, Seungcheol was back on the phone. And when you left the suite, you had a feeling it wasn’t just your ripped underwear you had left behind.

-

It was five days after you had left Seungcheol at the hotel and Soonyoung had made a mind-map. A mind-map that contained all the names of the guys you had slept with for the challenge, all of them connected by arrows in some shape or form. You stared at it with your mouth slightly dropped.

“So, I felt like this was necessary,” he explained as he took a sip from his coffee.

“How- how did you- what the hell?”

It was scary but impressive.

“Was the “in love with u” necessary, though?” You finally asked after a few seconds of silence and Soonyoung chuckled.

“Only writing the truth,” he said, leaning back in his chair. As much as you hated to admit it… maybe he wasn’t too wrong. It was crazy though, how the left side was a complete chaos, while the right side remained oddly peaceful.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Soonyoung said, a knowing grin on his lips, “how is it possible that the right side looks so… uneventful. Well, first of all I’m sure it’s because Jiwoo wasn’t responsible for any of them.” He had a point there. You chewed on your bottom lip, looking at the chart/mind-map again. It was true, the whole chaos had happened when Jiwoo had been in charge of choosing your targets. Now, with you in control, the drama could finally come to an end. You were relieved to say the least.

“Well, this leaves me with four more to go,” you concluded, leaning back in your chair as well, “that doesn’t seem like such a hard number.” It certainly felt like a lot less pressure than 13, that was for sure. You grabbed your own cup of coffee and took a big sip, your eyes gazing through the coffee shop, wondering if anyone in here sparked your interest. Soonyoung watched you with a chuckle, locking the iPad he had shown you the graphic on, about to put it in his bag, when he suddenly heard someone coughing. Loudly coughing. In very close proximity.

It was you. You were coughing. Choking on your coffee that had landed in the wrong pipe after you had caught a glimpse of the front door of the café and those walking through it.

There was no way. No way in hell this was happening right now.

“Are you okay?” Soonyoung worriedly asked, grabbing one of his napkins and handing it to you, but you didn’t even hear him, nor see the white napkin he was holding.

Mingyu had just walked in. Behind him Joshua, Jun, Minghao and if that hadn’t been enough already, Seungkwan and Jihoon staggered inside the coffee shop right then as well. Your head was about to explode. None of this made sense. How on earth- what the fuck?

“Y/N? Hello, Earth to Y/N?” Soonyoung began waving the napkin in front of your face now and you finally recovered from your coughing fit as well as your tunnel vision on the men you had slept with. For fuck’s sake.

“Is there another exit?” you said through gritted teeth, grabbing the napkin from Soonyoung to shield your face with it. The male in front of you looked at you visibly confused.

“What- I don’t- I don’t think so, why?”

“Because the right side of the mind-map suddenly got a lot more complicated than anticipated,” you said and once Soonyoung understood, his eyes widened and he turned around, looking at what you had been earlier. Just that, obviously, he had no idea what those guys looked like until-

“Jisoo hyung?!”

You almost fell off your chair. Joshua looked over at your table, spotted Soonyoung and smiled widely – only for that smile to falter when he saw… you. To make matters even worse, Soonyoung was completely oblivious to what was happening, jumping up from his chair to hug Jisoo, Joshua, whatever, and made all his companions look your way. This wasn’t happening. You were dreaming, actually. It had to be a dream. A very stupid, idiotic, lousy dream.

But when Mingyu came over with a shit-eating grin on his face, flopping down on the free chair to your left, you knew very well this wasn’t a dream, but the sick reality of your ridiculous life.

“Now, now. Fancy seeing you here, Y/N,” he said, arm swung over your back rest. Speechless, that would be the perfect adjective to describe your current state. So speechless that you didn’t find any words or energy to reply to Mingyu.

“Soonyoung-ah, you look great, when did you get back?” Jisoo patted Soonyoung on the back, the smile back on his lips. You heard them talk mainly because there weren’t many other people around and you wished you could just evaporate right here and now and never come back.

“Only around a week ago, it’s so good to see you, hyung!” you really wondered how on earth Soonyoung survived in this world. How had he not put one and one together yet? How was he still happily chatting away with someone that had the same name as the person on the graph he had made to better understand your situation? You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, deciding to just let it happen. There was no way out anymore.

“Yes, you too, uhm, meet my friends! This is Jun, Minghao, Seungkwan and Jihoon and that guy over there is Mingyu.”

And scene. With every name Joshua said, Soonyoung’s smile dropped and instead made room for terror. Jun? Minghao? Seungkwan? Jihoon? Mingyu?!

“Oh fuck,” he said, his head flying over to you, you who was sitting on your chair with your forefinger and thumb pressed onto the bridge of your nose, eyes closed and frowning. And only now did it make sense because Jisoo’s English name was Joshua and you had slept with someone named Joshua and- shit. He was an idiot.

-

Sitting at a table with seven dudes that had fucked you was definitely not your ideal afternoon activity.

As it turned out, Seungkwan and Jun knew each other because Jun had taught Seungkwan Chinese a while back because the younger male had thought about going abroad for a semester. In the end it hadn’t worked out, but the two stayed friends and eventually Jun had introduced him to Minghao and then Mingyu and so forth. Jihoon, who hadn’t really said anything since he had sat down (“He has a pretty bad hangover, bear with him,” Mingyu had said with a grin, his arm still on the back of your chair. Menace), turned out to be a childhood friend of Joshua’s, who he had only recently gotten back into contact with, namely the university’s festival where you and Jihoon had slept together. For some reason you couldn’t quite figure out just yet, all of them had grown extremely close ever since then, the only one missing from the occasion was Wonwoo, who was currently at work, but who they’d meet up with for dinner.

“Crazy running into you here, it’s like coffee shops are just our thing,” Jisoo had said to you as he sat down, the smirk on his face so annoying you wanted to punch it right off. Jun had even greeted you with a hug, which had totally caught you off guard and Minghao had waved before sitting down and getting out his phone, all while Seungkwan had only stood there, seemingly glued to the floor with the tips of his ears crimson and the knuckles around his iced americano white from holding on too strong. He had finally sat down and only acknowledged you with a small bow of his head, which apparently was so out of character for him that all his friends began teasing him. Soonyoung tried to apologize with his eyes, but you had decided you hated him now, so you ignored him, staring at the table as if it was showing the latest episode of The Penthouse.

“So, how do you know each other?” Joshua was taking a sip from his iced coffee, looking from Soonyoung to you and back, Soonyoung well aware that he had to take over the speaking role. “We went to high school together,” he explained, eyes flickering from Joshua to you, “oh, and Jisoo hyung and I know each other from church. You know, the few months in senior year when my mum was super crazy about all of us going to church.”

That made you look up. Raising your brows, you stared at Joshua.

“You’re a church boy?” you asked, causing a grin to spread on his lips.

“Surprised?” he asked, leaning back. You only scoffed and grabbed your cup, taking another sip, but you didn’t even think about replying to him. Instead, you let your eyes wander through the coffee shop, looking at anyone but the people sitting around your table.

To say the situation was awkward was an understatement. You knew that the majority of them were well aware of your connection with them and it felt like you were about to suffocate. Things couldn’t have gone more wrong than this, really, there was no scenario worse than this. Unless, you thought, Wonwoo decided to show up with Seungcheol right behind him because those two were actually best friends since some summer camp or whatever. Quickly, you shook the thought off – you definitely weren’t going to jinx this now.

“As much fun as this is,” Mingyu said after a while of silence, “we just wanted to quickly grab a drink and then leave. We have some shopping to do and we’re meeting Wonwoo, as mentioned before.”

God, you hated him. Hated him so much you were sure there were actual daggers flying out your eyes when you looked at him. Not that he cared. He got up from his chair, the others following him and only then, after you had sat together for at least ten minutes, Jihoon finally took notice of you.

“Oh, Y/N, what are you doing here?” He asked, eyebrows shot up in surprise. Everyone looked at him. You felt your jaw tense.

“I’ve been here the whole time, Jihoon-ah,” you mumbled back, and he slowly nodded.

“You know each other?” Seungkwan asked, and yet again it couldn’t have been worse.

“Oh, yeah, we hooked up at your university festival.”

Silence. As if the whole world had suddenly stopped. Seungkwan’s eyes widened, and you wished for his sudden extrovert self to go back to hell.

“You… you slept with her?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah, doesn’t “hooked up” imply that?”

“Well, no, some people also just use that to say they met up with someone or just made out or something,” Joshua explained.

“Really? Well, in our case we did meet up and then made out and also had sex,” Jihoon nodded, looking from Joshua back to you, “it was fun.” You knew he was trying to make light of the situation, but he couldn’t have chosen a worse way. In fact, all of this was horrible and ridiculous and right now you really wished you had decided to stay in bed that morning.

“Interesting,” Mingyu nodded, a knowing grin on his face. You truly hoped he wouldn’t say anything else. Hoped none of them would speak out what probably everyone had figured out at this point. You watched as they all began to look at each other, their silent conversations making you want to rip out your hair and stuff it in each of their mouths.

“Well, then you better get going!” Soonyoung came to the rescue now, getting up and placing a hand on Joshua’s shoulder, “you seem to have a lot of things planned today, hyung.”

Maybe hating Soonyoung had been a bit of an overreaction. You smiled slightly as you watched them leave, ignoring Mingyu’s grin and only waving at Jun and Minghao, Seungkwan having already fled the scene and Jihoon now being shoved out of the door by Mingyu.

Soonyoung fell down onto the chair next to you, visibly defeated.

“I am so sorry,” he said, his hands clasped together, rubbing them up and down, his eyes big and round. You knew he meant it and as much as you wanted to punch him, you also knew he was just a victim of his own pea-sized brain. You waved him off and pulled a hand through your hair.

“Don’t worry about it,” you replied finally, grabbing your cup to finish your drink. The urge to leave this place and never come back, having you gulp everything down in one go. Soonyoung watched you, still feeling incredibly stupid and guilty. How had he not reacted quicker?

“I told you not to worry,” you said again, giving him a small smile as you picked up your bag and got up. He immediately followed you.

“Y/N-,“ he began, but you waved him off.

“Soonyoung-ah, this must have been the most awkward moment of my life, alright? I have to go and, I don’t know, take a walk or drown myself in the Han River or my shower or… something. I’ll text you later.”

Defeated, Soonyoung nodded, watching you as you gave him one last smile before finally leaving the coffee shop.

-

That same evening you were in your apartment. Finally some alone time, you thought, just you and a bottle of wine and maybe an episode of your favorite drama before you fell asleep on the couch. You really weren’t asking for a lot. And if this hadn’t been your current life perhaps it would have worked out fine.

Right when your first glass was halfway emptied and the leads of your drama had just begun one of their in-famous fights – you suddenly heard a noise, more like a loud shattering of some sort, right outside your door. Your head yanked to the side right as your eyes widened and you quickly jumped up, worried that someone might have fallen or dropped something. Right when you swung open the door you saw that your second guess hadn’t been that far off. Not far from your door crouched a blonde-haired man, surrounded by what seemed like a million pieces of glass.

“Oh no, do you need help?” You asked, making the man aware of you being there. He turned his head to face you, and it took you a second to realize the obvious distress on his features, too distracted by how good-looking he was.

“That would be great, do you, uh, maybe have a broom?”

Together you gathered all the shards, a bit of small talk happening on the side. He had just moved in two doors down from you since his dormitory had had to shut down for the time being due to a broken water pipe. He had found the apartment by chance, incredibly lucky that it was within his price range and had now already succeeded in breaking decorative vases his mother had sent him.

“Well, at least there wasn’t any liquid involved. The carpets here soak up everything and then don’t stop smelling for a good three months,” you chuckled as you held open the trash bag you had gotten from inside. He laughed, nodding his head, and throwing some more of the shards into the bag. He was perfect. Perfect as a distraction from Seungcheol who hadn’t left your mind, perfect to be the next step closer to finally ending this challenge and you going back to your old life. You watched as he wiped off his hands on his jeans, looking around to see if you had missed anything, but deemed the floor shard free the next second.

“Thank you so much for your help,” he said then, looking back at you and you smiled, closing the bag.

“That’s what neighbors are for,” was your reply and he laughed, pulling a hand through his bleached mullet. God, whoever his hairdresser was needed a serious raise.

“Oh, I’m Chan by the way!” He seemed to only remember now that no names had been exchanged yet and you smiled brightly as you introduced yourself too.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, again, thank you so much, I would invite you inside for a coffee or something, but I’m meeting friends in like half an hour and-,”

“Ah, don’t worry about it, really! I was happy to help. And if you ever do want to invite me inside for a cup of coffee or something, you know where I live.”

Chan heard the innuendo in your voice. Or at least he thought he did. He felt his throat dry up and his heart gaining speed as he quickly tried to find an answer. But the way you were looking at him left his mind blank. Damn him for being a stupid man!

“Uh, oh, y-yes, yes, I do. Well, h-have a nice evening!” He hurriedly took the bag from your hand and was down the aisle and in front of his apartment faster than you could have probably said goodbye. Grinning, you walked back into your own apartment as well, sure that this one would once again be a piece of cake.

-

Or maybe it wasn’t. Not because he wasn’t interested, but because he was nowhere to be found. It was as if he had vanished into thin air, as if he had just been a fragment of your imagination.

“He surely wasn’t fake,” Jiwoo said a week later, the two of you in your university’s cafeteria. You sighed, taking a sip from your coke.

“How do you know? Maybe I am getting so desperate I am starting to make hot guys up.”

Your best friend rolled her eyes and leaned back in her uncomfortable cafeteria chair.

“Now, that’s a little extreme, isn’t it?” She raised a brow at you, but all you did was shrug and put your chopsticks away.

“It’s not like you can’t just choose another hot guy to hook up with, y/n. There are plenty around here.”

“Yeah, and where did that get us when I slept with people from this school, Jiwoo-yah?” You crossed your arms. Jiwoo closed her mouth.

“I thought so,” you snorted before shaking your head, “no, honestly, he was perfect. He doesn’t go to this university, he is a freshman which makes him significantly younger than the rest of my guys and he was hot. Like, so hot, Jiwoo.” You put your head in your hands, sighing. Jiwoo chuckled.

“They were all hot. And since when are you into freshmen?”

“Just this one,” you replied through your hands and Jiwoo nodded, laughing again.

It really was a shame. You had really thought Chan would be easy, a walk in the park. You had imagined running into him on the hallway and asking him if he wanted to come in for some beer or soju or anything and then he would fuck you on your couch and done was it. Only three more to go. But no. Of course life didn’t come that easy to you anymore, you had already used up all your luck at the beginning of this idiotic challenge.

Jiwoo continued eating now, before she made a noise as if she had just remembered something.

“Oh, I forgot to mention!” She started just as you took your hands off your face and continued eating your fried vegetables, “my brother asked about you.”

A piece of fried broccoli landed in the wrong pipe, and you began coughing loudly. Jiwoo looked at you, clearly surprised.

“Are you okay?” She asked, bending forward a little. You nodded, quickly waving her off and grabbing for your coke to stop the coughing. Jiwoo frowned a little, but sighed after, clearly annoyed at her brother.

“Anyways, he just wanted to know how you were doing and told me you met on your way out from his party. You didn’t even tell me! Apparently, he needs someone to translate a few meetings with some German businessmen and he asked if you would be up for the job,” she scoffed, “I was like, what do you mean? Don’t you have translators at the company? And he said that, yes, he does, but maybe a college student could use the experience. You know, I was super annoyed at first because I thought he was, I don’t know, into you or something, but he genuinely seemed like he wanted to help you out.”

Your head was spinning listening to her, and your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, reminding you of how much you were actually thinking about him and how much you had no control over the way he still made you feel. His touch, the way he felt, how he tasted, sounded… it was all engraved in your brain and you feared you were never going to stop craving him, needing him. Gulping down your coke, you leaned back and bit down on your lip. He was right, that was a great opportunity for you. But then again, was there really a meeting or did he just want to see you? Was this an excuse?

“I- I mean, that is incredibly kind of him to offer,” you started slowly, not looking at her. Thoughts were still rummaging through your brain, thoughts you were scared to accidentally blur out and tell Jiwoo. You knew you shouldn’t go and see him again. There were already too many secrets you were keeping from Jiwoo. Up until now you hadn’t even told her about Soonyoung knowing, and him and you running into all the guys at the coffee shop. She was unaware of you and her brother, unaware of the lie you told her about having met some rich dude at a bar that night and how he had ended up taking you home. All in all, you weren’t being truthful to your best friend of many years for selfish horrible reasons and yet…

“I would love to help him,” you finally breathed out, feeling the excitement fill every cell of your body. Jiwoo seemed relieved.

“Oh, good! I, uh, kind of already told him you would,” her cheeks turned a very faint shade of pink. The excitement was now replaced by confusion.

“You did?”

“Yeah, uhm… there is a little more I should probably tell you.” She looked around and then leaned forward, her body language suddenly different. All of a sudden, she radiated energy that you couldn’t quite pinpoint, but her face was showing signs of guilt. You blinked at her a few times feeling uneasy.

“What is it?”

“Well, uh, I met up with oppa a few days ago and we had drinks and during that he brought up the job and I said that you would love to do that and then uh, I kind of said that maybe there will be a hot German businessman you can seduce for our challenge.”

Deadbeat silence. Your ears felt as if someone had stuffed cotton into them. Oh no. Oh god no. You couldn’t do the job. There was no way in hell you could ever face him again. He was-

“Wait and even after that he still wanted me to do the job?” You couldn’t help yourself, the question needed to be asked! How could he still offer this when now he knew the actual reason you slept with him? He should be mad, furious even, not offer you a job.

“I mean, yeah,” Jiwoo seemed confused at your question, “sure, he told me that those men probably won’t be a fit for you, but he took it with humor, actually.”

With humor. That almost made you laugh. You stayed put, though. Of course he wouldn’t just get all angry with his sister, after all she hadn’t been responsible for your choice. Right now, you had to somehow stay calm and collected. Giving yourself away was not at all an option right now.

“Well, that’s good then. You can tell him that I’d love the opportunity.”

“You can tell him yourself, he told me to give you his number, here,” she reached over, a business card laying on the table in front of you the next second. You gulped down whatever lump was in your throat and put on a smile, grabbing the card.

“Awesome, I will do that later then!” you put the card in your bag and Jiwoo seemed satisfied enough to continue eating her food, humming happily. Okay, you needed to get out of here and call Seungcheol. Talk to him and explain yourself. You felt anxiety creep up your spine – what could he possibly think of you now? And what if he had even wanted to take back his invitation to work for him but because he didn’t want to seem too suspicious, he just continued acting like he actually wanted you around? There were too many mysteries in your head right now, mysteries you desperately needed to solve before going on with your day.

-

You somehow made it through lunch with Jiwoo and said your goodbyes, practically running out of the cafeteria and outside, the sun blinding you only for a second before you found yourself a bit of a secluded space next to the cafeteria building. It was a bit warmer today and you shoved your sleeves up your arm, taking out your phone and the business card next.

“Better to get this over with.” Feeling your heart speed increase, you took a deep breath and dialed the number on the card, preparing yourself for the worse.

It rang a few times before a man picked up the phone.

“Choi Seungcheol’s office, you’re speaking with Lee Seokmin, how can I help you?”

“Uh, hi, my name is Y/N. Mr. Choi told his sister to tell me that I should call him,” you sat down on the bench next to you, your leg beginning to move restlessly, teeth chewing on your bottom lip.

“Please hold,” Lee Seokmin now said and soon enough you found yourself in a queue with classical music playing. You sighed and started playing with the hem of your shirt, heartbeat already audible in your ears. As of right now, you still didn’t really know what you were going to say to him, you just knew you had to figure out what he was thinking. If he was even thinking about you. Which you of course would never assume. Right when your anxiety was about to skyrocket – the line clicked. And Seungcheol picked up.

“Y/N,” he said in his deep voice, and you swallowed hard, sitting up straighter.

“Seungcheol oppa, hi. Uh, Jiwoo told me to call you.”

“I see. I’m assuming this is about the job I offered?” Something was off about his voice. Yes, it was as deep as you remembered, but it also sounded somewhat strained. Or no, breathy.

“Yes, the job, that’s right,” you pulled a hand through your hair, “listen, oppa, I’m very grateful for this opportunity, but I was just wondering if you really – well, if you really want me to come work for you, after-,” you were interrupted by Seungcheol groaning. You froze on your spot.

“Don’t be silly, Y/N,” he said, and you could literally imagine him right now, “so, you slept with me because you and my sister have some childish challenge. Whatever. It’s not like it meant anything, isn’t that right? You said it yourself.”

His voice was still off. His breathing was off. It almost sounded as if-

“Oppa, what exactly are you doing right now?” Slowly, you got up from the bench, feeling yourself starting to shake.

“What? You can go and fuck twelve other dudes, but I can’t accept your call while a girl sucks my cock? That seems unfair to me, Y/N.”

Oh hell no. Your free hand balled into a fist and your nervosity changed into anger. Was he being serious right now? Sure, you had kind of figured he could be mad at you. Hurt, even. But this? Accepting your call while some girl was on his dick, talking to you this way? You hated to admit it, but it stung. Stung just the way it had back when Wonwoo had made his comment the other day. And suddenly it all came back to you. The repressed anger, all the frustration you had felt these past months. So much shit had happened, so many situations you had felt wronged in. The stress of completing this god forsaken challenge for no reason except your idiotic pride. It was suddenly all too much.

“You’re an asshole, Choi Seungcheol. For all I care, you can go fuck yourself, or any other girl on this planet, but don’t you dare ever try to speak to me again.” You hung up on him whilst still shaking and stuffed your phone back into your pocket, ready to go and skip your last class because there was no way in hell you were going to sit in a room with other people feeling like this. You had to calm yourself down, had to meditate or maybe throw around some plates, scream into your pillow.

But of course the universe had not picked you as it’s favorite – not today or ever – because when you grabbed your bag, ready to head home, you saw none other than Wonwoo walking over to you. His glasses slightly crooked on his nose, his hands nervously playing with the sleeves of his oversized shirt.

“Hey,” he said once he stopped in front of you, oblivious to your sour mood.

The fact there wasn’t any steam coming out of your ears right now was actually surprising. You didn’t say anything, you just stared at him, waiting.

Wonwoo cleared his throat.

“Look, Y/N, what I said to you the other day was out of line, I should have never-,”

“Called me a slut?” and here we go. You took a step towards him, watching how his eyes widened slightly.

“I-,” he tried, but you cut him off.

“Because you did do that. You called me a slut for sleeping with other guys, Wonwoo. You couldn’t deal with it, you acted like a little boy who was mad he didn’t get his favorite candy at the store. I tried, Wonwoo, I tried to understand you, to be cautious of your feelings. Do you think I knew these guys were your friends? Yeah, I get that it sucks for you, and I am sorry about you finding out the way you did. But I don’t owe you anything. In fact, I don’t owe anyone anything and you slut shaming me for having sex with other guys, to hell with how many, is wrong and fucked up!”

As you spoke, you somehow backed Wonwoo up against the wall of the cafeteria building, his eyes even wider as you stopped, the corners of his mouth twitching once in a while, just like his eyebrows. He understood and knew that he had fucked up, that he had said something horrible to you. But this? Now it was his turn to ball his fists.

“I know all that! That’s why I came to you, Y/N. And you have every right to be upset with me, but… you tried to be cautious of my feelings? What is that even supposed to mean? I don’t need you to do that, I don’t need you to look out for me or my feelings, I’m not a baby even if you think I am! And you talking to me like this, yelling at me as if I hadn’t come here to apologize! Look, I’m sorry for saying what I did back then, I let my jealousy get the best of me and-,”

“And you have no right to be jealous! I never promised you anything, Wonwoo, I literally disappeared out of your life the second I got you to sleep with me, shouldn’t that have been sign enough that I’m not interested in you?!”

PANG. Your back hit the wall, as Wonwoo had you spun around, hands around your wrists, pinning them against the concrete. Your head hurt and so did your pride, trying to somehow loosen his grip on you, free yourself. It was no use. Wonwoo breathed hard, his eyes glinting behind the crooked glasses.

“Is that right? You weren’t interested?” He breathes, his nostrils flaring.

“Is that why you let me fuck you in the library, Y/N? Why you sucked my cock so prettily before the fashion show? Because you weren’t interested?” He was so close all of the sudden, his body pressing against yours. You felt everything inside you burn, even your skin. All of him was somehow too much and not enough at once, but your anger was still there, lingering inside of you and you sure as hell weren’t going to give in.

“Yeah, I wanted you to fuck me in the library, and I wanted to suck you off at the fashion show. Still doesn’t mean I am interested in you.” Now, you managed to push him off, ignoring the obvious hurt on his face.

“You-,”

“Fuck you, Jeon Wonwoo. Seriously. Fuck your apology, I don’t wanna hear it.” Finally, you grabbed your bag from the ground as it had fallen down earlier, ignoring Wonwoo who still tried to speak to you. His voice was nothing but a humming in your ears, a static sound your brain wasn’t even registering anymore. He wasn’t important. Nothing was important but the deep rotting rage inside of you, the way all of your emotions had formed one big ball of fury that was now sitting right there in your chest. You needed to get away from Wonwoo, from Seungcheol (even though he was nowhere near you), from anyone here who had any kind of power over you.

-

Your apartment complex had never looked more inviting. Breathing exercises had done nothing to calm you down, not even your favorite chill playlist had helped. Seungcheol’s audacity and Wonwoo’s insult of an apology were still so fresh inside your head, your blood continuing to boil as you walked to the front door, typing in the code – only to catch a glimpse of a figure inside the elevator that had just stopped on the ground floor. Another person was exiting, which meant that they probably needed to catch something from their mailbox and that the figure was alone in the elevator.

Chan was leaning against the wall, his eyes meeting yours by chance. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and white and black baggy pants, his blonde hair still in that delicious mullet. He wore some silver chains around his neck, hands buried inside the pockets of his pants. The anger within you grew because how could he show up after a week and look like this?!

Shoving open the door once it clicked, you made your way to the elevator, your whole body back to shaking.

“Oh! Y/N, long time no s-,” you shut him up by interrupting - screaming at - him.

“Where the fuck have you been?” You dropped your bag on the floor, standing right in front of him now your bodies almost touching. Chan’s eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised by your antics. He hadn’t been home much the past week, studying at the library almost every day when he wasn’t at the dance studio downtown getting some more practice in. Back when you had first met he had understood what you had meant, inviting yourself over for coffee next time, he wasn’t that oblivious. And of course, he had wanted to get to that… coffee as soon as he could, but as much as he was horny, he was ambitious. And now you were here, demanding to know where he was?

He chuckled in disbelief, shaking his head at you slightly, tongue sticking out of his mouth just slightly, touching his teeth.

“Are you kidding?” He raised his brows, that singular motion making the ball of emotions inside of you grow even tighter.

“You disappeared,” you said, eyes on him, “as if you were avoiding me. Were you avoiding me?”

“Why would I?” Chan snapped back, your lungs suddenly finding it hard to breath. He wasn’t doing anything, he just stood there, and yet you felt just as furious with him as you had with Wonwoo. But before you could even reply, he took a step toward you, his chest now touching yours.

“Are you that insecure, Y/N? You flirt with a guy once and ask him for coffee or something and when he doesn’t come crawling to you right then, you think he’s not interested? Sounds a bit pathetic to me.”

You gasped, your hands about to cramp with how hard you were balling them once again.

“Excuse me?”

“Pretty sure you heard me,” he tilted his head, a smirk now appearing on his pretty lips. At this point you hadn’t even noticed the elevator moving up, hadn’t noticed the fact it had arrived at your floor. The doors opened and closed a couple of times as the two of you stared at each other. Chan still with the same smug smirk on his face, you fighting all the demons inside of you.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Not exactly knowing how, you still managed to talk back at him. He clicked his tongue, looking over at the doors, before looking back at you. Then, without notice, his hands were on your waist, spinning you around, a yelp escaping you when you felt yourself hit the wall of the elevator.

“Where the fuck I’ve been, hm? Well, I was in the library or in the dance studio, Y/N. Living my life, not thinking about the hot neighbor and how much I want him to fuck me, but I’m guessing you can’t relate to that, can you?” His voice was merely a whisper into your ear, hands digging into your sides, making you squirm.

“You-,”

“Now, now. You came onto me so rudely, Y/N, I don’t think you should be allowed to speak yet.” Chan leaned back a little, looking you up and down, licking over his lips. You felt two things at once: Absolute and utter want and the same anger and frustration from before.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” you finally breathed out, before shooting forward, hands on the sides of his neck as your lips crashed together, catching him off guard. Thankfully, Chan’s body reacted quicker than his brain, his arms now fully wrapped around your waist, kissing you back with the same force – or so he thought because the next thing he knew was you pushing him against the wall, a loud thumb echoing through the elevator as he groaned into the kiss. You were eager, or maybe just really mad at him. He was fine with both.

Your lips moved together in perfect sync, hands wandering, breaths getting stuck. All that pent up frustration inside of you slowly releasing. The two of you didn’t speak, instead he picked you up from the floor, your legs automatically wrapping around him as he carried you outside into your shared hallway, walking you over to his door, your lips latched onto his neck, sucking harshly determined to leave a mark. He swore under his breath as he put in his door code, pushing said door open the next second and bringing you inside. He let one hand wander from the back of your thighs to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of hair to pull you away from his neck and instead kiss you again, his tongue finding yours right away. He let you down then, both of you kicking your shoes off before going further inside. In any other situation you might have noticed the way his apartment was the same shape and size as yours, his bedroom right where yours was. You might have noticed the art he had hung up on the walls, the green velvet couch, the black carpet, the family picture on the end table. You didn’t notice anything though, too busy with chasing his lips, your hands already underneath his shirt helping him to get it off. It felt like a movie, the way you two left trails of your clothes from the entrance way to the bedroom, shirts and pants, socks and finally underwear, as he got rid of your bra right when you stepped inside the bedroom. His hands were on your ass, mouth latched onto your right nipple, your head thrown back as you moaned. Your own hands were in his hair, pushing him closer to you, the feeling of his tongue twirling around your stiff bud just too good. Somehow from the first moment you had seen him you had been sure he would be good with his tongue, with his hands. He looked like a guy who liked to please and at this point you kind of needed him to do exactly that.

“You’re greedy, aren’t you?” he whispered against you, as he moved up, his breath hitting your skin and making you shiver. You shook your head, back to grabbing his face and pulling him up.

“Shut up,” was all you could say before kissing him again, his cocky chuckle making you want to push him down onto the bed and give him absolutely nothing until he begged you to. Too bad he had a different idea. His arms wrapped back around you, picking you up and finally putting you down onto the bed, where he now crawled between your legs, letting his tender fingers caress your hips and stomach. His eyes were on you, watching you while you felt your pussy beginning to throb, your fingers now grabbing the sheets. He was way too hot right there between your legs, a smirk on his pretty lips, fingers getting dangerously closer to your thong. Impatience was now mixed with the already existing frustration, and you groaned wiggling your hips. Chan licked his lips as he titled his head.

“Eager, greedy, and impatient? I really brought a brat into my bed.”

“Whatever, just do something!” Your whine only made him chuckle again. Shaking his head, Chan brought his fingers down, index now sliding over your clothed lips. His eyes wandered from your face to your core, his dick straining against his briefs as he continued his tease, your whines only getting louder. Chan decided to ignore you. Instead, he bent down, kissing you over your underwear, tongue shooting out and slowly licking over your slit, your head beginning to spin. Why the hell wasn’t he taking off your underwear, why would he just-

“So, so wet. And cute, look at your cute little cunt,” his breath against you was driving you insane. All of him was driving you insane. You were about to argue with him again, when you finally felt him pull your panties to the side, his mouth devouring you right then. You moaned, back arching at his touch, eyes closed shut. You had been right with your assumption – he was good with his mouth. His tongue drew circles on you, before licking all the way down to your entrance and back up, lips now closing around your clit, sucking on it harshly. Stars were already beginning to form in front of your eyes, heat spreading all throughout you as your hips couldn’t help but rock against his face. He wasn’t bothered by it, instead he continued his spiel, tongue now flicking against you, causing your back to lift off the bed. Something about the way he touched you was so sensual and intimate it made your toes curl. Obviously, you had had your fair share of sex these past few months and you wouldn’t go as far as to compare any of them, but you could definitely appreciate the way Chan was handling you right now.

Nevertheless, you had approached him with pent up frustrations, and you needed him to fuck that out of you as soon as possible.

“Chan…,” you moaned when he began kissing the insides of your thighs instead of moving further, “please fuck me, I really, really need you to fuck me.”

There it was again. That god damn chuckle. Cocky and so arrogant. Chan slowly moved up now, his hands catching yours and pinning them over your head. Your eyes widened when you felt his hard cock against your core.

“I know you do, Y/N. But bad girls don’t get rewarded. They get punished.”

He flipped you over as if you weighed nothing. You squeaked; your face now pressed into one of his pillows trying to squirm underneath him, but it was no use. Only one of his hands held down your wrists now, while the other tugged on your thin panties and (this had become a theme in your hook-ups apparently) ripped them off of you.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” the softness of his fingertips was right there on your bare ass, goosebumps erupting all over your skin. You did as told still shaking with want and let out a breathy moan when his fingers slid between your folds, coating them in your arousal and finally sinking into you. Chan did not leave you hanging, his fingers moving quick and hard once you had adjusted to them – all whilst he remained calm, watching you on your stomach, your face sheltered by your own hair. If he was honest it took everything in him not to just get his cock out and fuck you stupid, but he had a plan. He was going to get you even more riled up. He was going to make you feel as if the only cure to your so obvious frustrations was him. You were going to beg him soon, beg him to fuck you, to give you his cock. Smirking down at you, he quickened his pace, your small moans music to his ears.

“So good for me, so obedient. What do you say, should I make you cum with my fingers, hm?” You nodded, not able to move much with his hand still holding your down. You needed the release, sure you would feel more at ease with everything once that stress left you through one sweet climax – just that Chan wasn’t exactly going to make it easy for you. Instead of continuing to fuck you with his fingers, he pulled out of you, the feeling of emptiness almost bringing tears to your eyes.

“Chan!”

He ignored you, both of his hands now on your hips, shoving you up and forward, leaving you on all fours, causing you to yelp once more. Chan didn’t give you any time to react more as he moved quickly behind you, suddenly his face next to yours, his hand opening the drawer in his bedside table. You followed his movements and saw what he pulled out. A condom (a first for you after quite some time) and… a red tie. Your eyebrow twitched up.

“What are you-,” you began, but Chan was once again quicker than you, grabbing your hands and making you fall over with another surprised scream, your ass up in the air and your hands now tied together by the red tie.

“Bad girls don’t get rewards, Y/N, they get punished,” he repeated as he finished the knot around your wrists and moved to carefully shove your hair out of your face. You glared up at him. He just innocently smiled down at you, caressing your cheek.

Heartbeat in your ears and between your legs, you watched how he leaned down, his eyes fixed on yours, lips finding your shoulder. He moved down to kiss along your back, every touch making your body explode with more emotions. He was soft, warm. But right now, you wanted more, you wanted him to be hard, cold even, wanted him to fuck all of these emotions out of you. And only when his hands were back on your hips and his lips were on your lower back did you realize what he was doing. He knew exactly what you wanted; he just wasn’t going to give in that easily. You groaned, trying to sit up, but it wasn’t possible, not with the way he had positioned your arms and tied your wrists together. You were right under his control, and he was going to have his way with you.

“Chan…,” you cried out, desperation slowly but surely taking you over. But once again, he acted like he didn’t hear you. Instead, he continued his plan, his hands now on your ass, spreading your cheeks apart and almost drooling at the sight of your perfectly wet pussy. Licking his lips he dashed forward, his tongue soon diving into you, catching you off guard.

“Fuck!”, you breathed into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut as you felt your body react to the way he made you feel. Sweat starting to form on your forehead, your hips moving against him until he stopped you with his strength. There was no talking, no trying to tell you off, but instead he kept going, mouth on your core as if he had been starving for weeks. And perhaps this was true, considering he had been craving you since that day you had helped him in the hallway. He had been so mesmerized by you, by your aura and the way you seemingly just took what you wanted. And today his suspicion had been confirmed. Just thinking about the way you had talked to him earlier, the fire in your eyes… it made him dig his hands deeper into your skin and suck even harsher on your clit.

“Ch-Chan, pl-please!” you were so close, felt all of the nerves in your body awakening, burning, and screaming for more. You don’t know how he did it, but you also didn’t care – you just didn’t want him to stop. But right before he got you there, before you could scream in pleasure, thank all the gods for this gift – he stopped. Leaning back on his ankles and wiping his mouth with one of his hands. Your body began to shake once again, your eyes opening and your throat letting out a dry sob.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you close, baby?” Chan smirked knowingly; one hand now placed on your right butt cheek.

“What the fuck?” you somehow croaked out, managing to lift your head up enough to see him. It was unfair how perfect he looked. Defined torso, the silver chains still around his neck, blonde mullet adjourning his pretty face just in the right way. He looked so familiar for some reason, and you moved your hips again, trying to get him to notice how much you needed him to finish what he started. But Chan had a different plan.

Looking at you from this angle was something he was sure he could do for another two hours at least, but he knew he couldn’t wait that long to give in to what he knew both of you wanted. Still, he also wasn’t going to give in already. With a smooth movement, he turned you back to face him, your hands still tightly knotted above you. Your eyes found his, hunger and want so clear in his face as he looked over your body, taking in every inch of your perfect skin. He shuffled a little closer, kneeling in between your legs again and caught you off guard when he grabbed your thighs and hooked them around his waist. You moaned, his hard cock behind his briefs now smug in between your lips, a whimper leaving you when he moved his hips just a tiny bit. The friction was too much and not at all enough. Tears began prickling in your eyes when he leaned forward, his breath hitting your cheek the same time as he rocked his hip against you a second time.

“So desperate for release, aren’t you?” he whispered into your ear, before kissing the spot right underneath, his hips now continuously thrusting against yours, his cock getting harder with every second. He kissed and licked your neck, the dry humping hard on him just the same, and you noticed how he struggled by the way he kissed you, the way he grabbed your face and moved his lips so he could crash them against yours. His tongue found yours quickly, the sudden rise of temperature and his own impatience obvious. You wanted to touch him, drag your nails across his back, leave marks for everyone to see, for yourself to see and be reminded of this.

“Wanna touch you, Chan-ah,” you breathed into the kiss, your legs tightening around his waist, your own now circling against him. He groaned, kissing you hard again, fingers clasping your chin and your teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Judging by his reaction he loved it, his free hand now on your left tit, squeezing it hard as his movements became even quicker.

“Want to touch you, scratch down your back, Chan, please, want you to fuck me, make me scream your name, shit, please.”

Lord, never had Chan wanted to let go of his plans as much as right now. His determination to make you beg repeatedly was slowly dying. Wasn’t this enough already? You this desperate? Did he have to go further, when it was so clear you just wanted him to finally sink into you?

“Shit,” he cursed now, parting from you and looking down, his chains dangling right above your chest and, god, did you want to grab them and pull him down, kiss him until your lips couldn’t do it anymore. He once again licked his lips, hands framing your face, sliding up to your hands.

“Don’t do anything stupid, sweetheart. Got it?” His voice was stern, but his eyes were full of need. You nodded, sure you weren’t going to try anything, considering you just wanted him to fuck you. Everything else had passed. Chan continued to get rid of the tie then, ripping it off your wrists five seconds later.

Everything happened in a perfect blissful blur. He kissed you again just as your hands moved to his back, nails already digging into it as he began to thrust again, his cock so hard you felt like it was about to leave bruises on your lips.

“Chan, please, please fuck me, god, please!”

The man’s head was spinning. This had been in his head, this had been what he wanted. You had given him exactly that. How on earth were you this perfect? He nodded, quick to move back and get rid of his briefs, your legs momentarily leaving his waist. You watched as he got out his cock, watched the precum drip onto his blanket, your mouth watering. But there was no time to suck him off, you craved something else right now. Your shot forward, making that fantasy from before a reality as you grabbed his necklace, pulling him into as kiss as your hand wrapped around his cock, skillfully jerking him off.

“Holy fuck,” Chan breathed out into your mouth, blindly reaching for the condom he had taken from the bedside table earlier. You watched him rip it open, parting from him for a small while, hand still around his cock, pussy throbbing for him, eyes glued to his hands that now moved to roll on the condom. You laid back down, chest heaving. There was no way you could take your eyes off him, of the way his shoulders moved, the way his gaze showed so many emotions at once. He looked ethereal like this, like an angel sent straight down from heaven just to have sex with you. Biting down on your lip you now watched as he grabbed one of your legs and wrapped it around his waist just like before. Your excitement grew with every second, your arousal dripping onto the sheets at this point. Chan swallowed hard when he grabbed the base of his cock, finally lining himself up with you. He didn’t think he had ever wanted to fuck someone as bad as you right now.

Once his tip breached you, you breathed out hard, fingers back to digging into the sheets. Maybe watching him like this would be enough to get you off. Sweat already visible on his chest, the pleasure visible on his features as he sunk into you deeper.

“Fucking hell, god damnit-,” Chan grabbed your other leg, wrapping it around himself too, nails digging into your flesh. You groaned, back arching when you felt him inside you completely, his cock stretching you out, your walls hugging him tightly. He now leaned down, eyes boring into yours.

“You wanted to scratch my back, darling. Make that come true, won’t you?” he said with his deep voice, and you swallowed hard before nodding, your hands on his back. When he did his first thrust, you already knew this was not going to last long for you. He simply felt too good. Kissing you again, he continued thrusting, his cock hitting your sweet spot perfectly. Moaning, you threw your head back, the kisses moving onto your neck. He was full on fucking into you now, every movement perfect as if calculated. With every second that passed, you felt yourself nearing your orgasm, the desperately needed stress relief. Your nails were actually leaving marks on his back now, the pain shooting straight into his cock as he quickened his pace, face buried into your neck now, his moans reaching your ears making you clench around him.

You were perfect. He could just say it over and over again in his head. Every inch of you was sexy and made him want you more, his cock feeling like it was at home right there inside of you. The wet heat of your pussy making him see a whole new universe behind his eyes.

Picking up the pace again, he sat up, your hands dropping down to his ass, pushing him even closer, Chan’s head now falling backwards as he fucked into you at a new angle.

“How are you this perfect, fuck, you’re so good for me, such a good baby, shit,” Chan’s voice was breathy and hot, and you bit your lip, wishing this moment wouldn’t end because looking at him felt like a privilege. And it was because you knew you couldn’t do this again. You had to stay true to your newly made rule.

“Chan, I’m so close,” you cried out then and he reached down, thumb pressing down on your clit, eyes studying you as you practically screamed, his cock hitting you right there and the pressure on your clit…

“Come for me, sweetheart, wanna see you come on my cock so fucking bad,” his voice, mixed with the way his chest glistened in sweat and the movements of his hips brought you over the edge. You let out something like a squeak, not sure what the hell was happening when all of a sudden your whole body shook and your back arched from the bed, fingers digging into his lower back as you came hard, Chan fucking you through it – only to be surprised the next second. His eyes widened when he felt the wetness, when he saw the big stain forming underneath you, juices dripping down your body.

“Oh my g-god, fu-fuck,” Chan’s eyes rolled back just then, the thought of you squirting on his bed quick to make him spill all of his cum into the condom in three seconds.

“Chan!” you called out his name when you felt him twitch inside you, aftershocks of your orgasm making its way through you. Exhaustion and satisfaction filled your mind just then, Chan now collapsing on top of you, cock still smugly buried inside you. He felt like he hadn’t cum this hard ever, really.

You stayed like this for a bit, both of you too exhausted to actually move. It was nice though, feeling him this close, smelling his scent and knowing this was what he smelled like after sex. Your head felt like it was full of clouds, cotton even.

“Feeling more relaxed now, hm?” Chan lifted his head, his smirk from before traded to an honest and cute smile that made you smile too.

“Yeah… sorry about that,” you chuckled, but he shook his head and leaned down to kiss your cheek.

“Please, there is nothing to apologize for, Y/N,” he said, his happy smile turning even wider. You caressed his face, kissing him softly, before looking down and back at his face. He understood. Giving you the cutest nervous laugh ever, he rolled off of you and sat up, eyes widening again at the stain you had left. Clearing your throat you also sat up, your elbows propped up behind you.

“Uh, sorry about that?” You grinned, but Chan shook his head rapidly again.

“God no, that was the hottest thing that has ever happened to me, Y/N.”

Giggling, you managed to sit up completely, watching Chan take off the condom and tying it shut.

“Hold on, I’ll get you something to clean up!” He said as he got up from the bed, hurrying to the bathroom you figured was right where yours was. Only now did it click that fucking your neighbor might not have been the best decision, considering you didn’t intend to do it again. You let out a small sigh, pulling a hand through your hair and getting up from the bed. When your feet hit the floor you felt a bit dizzy, probably courtesy to the intense orgasm you just had.

Chan came back a moment later, handing you a wet towel with a warm smile. He also carried a fresh shirt that he put on his desk chair and his own frame was now adorned by a new pair of briefs. You thanked him for both the towel and the shirt and cleaned your thighs, watching how he already began to get the sheets of his bed. You felt your cheeks heat up. This hadn’t been your first time and yet… it always left some bit of shame inside your stupid head. Shaking the thought off, you looked at Chan who looked as if he knew exactly what you had been thinking. He threw the dirty sheets into the laundry basket next to his closet and walked over to you after, his hands grabbing yours.

“Y/N,” he began, “I am assuring you, this was absolutely fine, Jesus, even more than fine! I loved it, it literally made me cum. Like, instantly! This isn’t a bad thing, this is normal and amazing and yeah it stains sheets and maybe even mattresses but so what!” He was so incredibly cute, you couldn’t help but kiss him. One hand on his face, the other still wrapped in his. Chan was only caught off guard for a second before he kissed you back, melting into your touch.

Stop this right now, you sick, sick girl!

You parted from him right away. The voice in your head really had the perfect timing.

“I should go to the bathroom,” you quickly said, squeezing his hand and finally grabbing the shirt from the chair and pulling it over your head (Chan felt like dying when he saw you in his clothes). You walked out of the bedroom and to the bathroom, peeing and washing your hands and face, looking at yourself for only a second before going back out – this time allowing yourself to roam the room. Now you noticed the couch and the carpet, the art and the end table. And the family picture on the end table. Without thinking much about it, you reached for it, the smile that had formed on your lips when you saw a younger Chan with a funky haircut next to his parents faded when you caught a glimpse of the other younger male standing next to, probably, their mother.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you breathed out.

header credit: @playmetheclassics

[atrwriting]

the bee, the the bird, the bear -- uncle!carmy x babysitter!you

as always, warnings: major character death, past child neglect and abuse situations, swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, and eventual smut

one

“mallory... what’s your favorite color?” you asked the young girl next to you, lightly gripping her hand. 

“pink,” the young girl said, keeping her eyes straight ahead at the aisle before her. 

you stared down at her and fought back the urge to sigh. you tried not to hold it against her, but mallory berzatto was a tough cookie to crack. in the few days she had been around, barely anyone reported on her asking for anything she needed or wanted. you knew it wasn't going to be easy, but it was growing difficult to continue to remind yourself of that. you didn’t have any experience in how to console a child as they’re experiencing grief, and you weren’t exactly sure how to do that in a target. 

“i love pink,” you stated. “maybe when you get older, i’ll show you my favorite pink makeup.” 

the girl only nodded. you glanced back down at her… almost wishing you hadn't. you didn't know if it was because it was the sight you were most worried for, but looking down at that girl made your heart hurt. all you saw in her eyes was vacant space. dark, blank, vacant space. it was like ghosts casted a haze over her brown irises… and you had no idea what to do. toxic positivity? offer to get her ice cream? you knew you shouldn't push as you couldn’t exactly blame her. 

so you brought out the big guns. 

“so, mallory…” you began. “do you like... starbucks?” 

mallory’s head immediately turned on a swivel up towards your face, where you stood a foot or two above her. a small twinkle appeared in her eye, and you knew you couldn’t let it pass. 

“have you heard of…” you began, wiggling your eyebrows. “a pink drink?” 

——————

a little while after you had gotten home from target, mallory said she was feeling sleepy. she left you to go fall asleep on the couch in the living room. your next task was to do up her new room. 

carmy had made sure to deliver a bed for his niece before you arrived. a quick vacuum and washing of the walls had been done before you were hired. you sighed, satisfied, before pulling out your phone. 

you: i hope you don’t mind… but i bought pink wallpaper. 

carmy: she like pink? 

you: her favorite color 

carmy: that’s fine then. 

that was all you needed before you set right to work. 

it took much longer than expected to perfectly set up the light pink wallpaper — but once it was finished, you immediately started on your other tasks. you found white bed sheets and a comforter with pastel floral designs that complimented the color of the walls. it was soft and airy and you hoped it would make the young girl feel better in her new home. it would be some time before carmen would be able to get furniture, so you bought a few of those cubicles with cute cloth drawers. they were trendy at the moment, but above all else: they were sturdy, cheap, and easy to put together. 

you started folding the young girl’s clothes; tops, pants, dresses, skirts — the works. you weren’t sure of the girl’s situation before her mother had passed away… but the girl did not have many belongings after her mother passed. you were tasked with restocking the girl’s bedroom, including wardrobe, and that you did. 

….while adding one princess costume. she said she liked tianna. so you bought it as a surprise. 

he could take it out of your pay — if he really gave that much of a shit. 

you had stacked a few books that you had grabbed from your younger years that your family had been saving — the books deserved more than just collecting dust. they deserved to be used by a young girl like mallory. 

you grabbed what else you could, too — extra sheets, extra clothes, and a winter jacket on the smaller side that your mother had vacuumed sealed many years ago. winter wasn’t for another few months, but you didn’t want to see her without any of the things she needed. 

it was growing late, but not close to the time that carmy usually came back to the apartment. mallory had slept through dinner — so for when she woke up, you made sure to prepare her one of your favorites from when you were a little girl: pastina. sure, it was good — but it was also quick, cheap, and easy to make. 

you spied the little girl’s awakening state from peaking around the kitchen threshold. 

“hungry?” you asked, trying to appear cheery. 

“not really,” she whispered. 

you clenched your teeth, not really knowing what to do. you didn’t want to force her… but she barely ate anything at breakfast, and hadn’t eaten anything at lunch. “what if… you tried to eat as much as you could, and then i could show you your new room?” 

she tilted her head in curiosity. “my… room?” 

you nodded, smiling. 

“i shared one with my mommy before.” 

you swallowed hard. you didn’t know what to say — so you pretended she didn’t say it. shitty, sure, but what else could you do? instead, you responded, “i hope you like the color of your room.” 

her eyes widened as her mouth fell open. “what color!?” 

you grinned, stirring the pot. “i’ll tell you after dinner! you think you want to try?” 

she hesitated for a second, appearing yo consider her options. you raised your eyebrows at her, hoping to influence her in the right direction. 

“okay,” she stated. “it better be pink!” 

——————

carmen came home a few hours later. you were on the couch, flipping through one of your textbooks, when you heard the lock click and a man’s voice sigh and enter the apartment. 

“hey,” he called, setting bags down on the counter. 

“hey,” you responded. “i made mallory some pastina earlier — i made extra in case you wanted some.” 

“thanks,” he responded, heading into the kitchen. “how was she today?” 

“she was good.” you smiled. “seemed a little sad… but i think her new room made her feel better.” 

“you already put it together?” he asked. carmen was spooning the leftover pastina you had made into a bowl for himself. the thought made you smile — an award winning chef eating your, in comparison, lame food. 

you nodded. “yeah, shit, sorry — should’ve asked you before. i just figured because you were busy — that it would, um... it would help you out.” 

he nodded, averting his eyes to the ground. he placed his hands on his hips as he considered your words. “no, yeah, yeah — you’re right.” 

you shrugged, stuffing your books in your bag. “at least now you have time to do — other things with here. bonding, and stuff.” 

he laughed slightly at that. “that… is proving to be difficult.” 

you nodded. “movies are a good start. disney plus.” 

he threw up a few lazy pointer fingers, quite literally pointing out that you had a good idea. “yeah, yeah, right… actually… would you mind setting that account up tomorrow for me? i’ll leave you the credit card.” 

you nodded, and laughed a bit. “that’ll make her really happy. can i… be intrusive, for a second?” 

he didn’t even get it a second thought as he shoveled food into his mouth. “shoot.” 

“i know that you’ve got a lot on your plate,” you began, swallowing. “did you have a chance yet to… look into doctors, or dentists for her?” 

his jaw tightened. “the social worker left a brochure, but, um — no, i haven’t.” 

you nodded. “if you want… i could call around tomorrow. i know you’re busy.” 

“fuck,” he groaned, his eyes averting aimlessly towards the countertop. his tongue poked out through his lips, and slid over the cracked skin as he appeared to be consumed by his worries. “i have to put her on my insurance.” 

you swallowed again. “…leave me that number, too?… or, if that’s too invasive, uh—“

“no,” he interrupted, staring at you. he shook his head thoughtfully, as if to silently dismiss you worry. “that would actually be… really helpful. thank you.” 

you shook off the praise, not wanting a blush to rise to your cheeks. “she’s super sweet. i just — want to help her is all. can i ask… what happened, to her mom?” 

“drug overdose,” he answered plainly, nodding almost. 

your eyebrows rose as your mouth fell slightly agape. that poor, fucking girl. you fidgeted with your fingers before you spoke once more. “she said that… she used to share a bedroom with her mom today. it’s not my business, but — i figured — you should know —“ 

“her mom stayed at the places she would score from,” he responded. 

your jaw dropped. you couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled out: “that poor baby girl.” 

he nodded then, placing his hands on his hips. you hadn’t known him for long, but it seemed like he did that when he was uncomfortable and/or didn’t know what to do. you figured he was also probably tired, and wanted to eat in peace, so you began packing your things to head out. 

“hey, uh... carm?” you called, almost at the door. 

“yeah?” he answered from the kitchen, as he unloaded the dishwasher. 

“she’s lucky to have you.” you smiled at him as he was completely frozen in place, staring back at you. you closed the door behind you and left for home. 

carmen didn’t know what to do with your words. he hasn’t really considered that, frankly, the girl, his niece, was lucky to be out of the situation she was — even if the berzatto family was a bunch of fuck ups who didn’t know how to control their emotions. carmen didn’t like to keep thinking about it, though — it had been hard to think about his niece, because then he usually thought of mikey — and that was too painful. 

building the bear was… almost like closure. closing a chapter, but being able to look back at it fondly. however, when he was first introduced to his niece, who was the spitting image of his late brother… all of those thoughts crept back into him then. 

staring at the little girl, mallory, was like the bear had never happened. the beef was still in existence; a flaming pile of shit, kicking and screaming. order was gone through the window, as was carmy’s small shred of sanity he had worked so hard to build and hold onto. 

but she had smiled up at him, the first day they met — and he almost bawled his eyes out like a baby. a pathetic, fucking baby. 

much like he had learned from construction of the bear, feeling collected and confident — bare minimum feeling okay — took time. a lot of time, money, and effort — but also time, and carmy could do time. he was barely at thirty, and some days he felt like he had no time — but he would make time. for mikey’s daughter — his niece, mallory. 

he walked into mallory’s room after he had finished unloading the dishwasher. mallory insisted on keeping the door open with a super bright night light as she slept — so he only felt kind of bad walking into her room as she slept. he peeked around and his eyes widened. 

it was like he had hired barbie instead of the girl next door studying for a law degree. the wallpaper was set perfect, faux dressers — he really had to get real ones, but that could wait — were set up and filled with clothes, there were books, toys, and it was decorated very nicely. 

you had spoiled mallory.

you had spoiled mallory where carmy couldn’t find the time. 

you had said before you had left that mallory was lucky to have him… but all carmy could think about, staring at his niece, sleeping peacefully despite all she had been through, surrounded by items and colors that looked like it was out of a magazine, was how lucky he was to have you to come into his life. 

carmy was lucky to have you, and he would prove to his niece that he was lucky to have her around, too. 

[preet-01]

Something about nighttime and a cold room equals angsty fic ideas

He’s dreamt about this a million times. A million times he’s dreamt about how his children with Daniel would look like.

Maybe they’d have Max’s blue eyes and Daniel’s curly hair. He doesn’t want that because that would mean they’d have his father’s eyes, but he’d love their child regardless. He much prefers imagining their child with Daniel’s chocolatey brown eyes with a bright sparkle in them hinting at the mischievous nature they’d surely inherit from Daniel. He prefers imagining their child with sandy blond hair like him and fluffy curls like Daniel. He prefers imagining, big, chunky babies that are theirs and take the best parts of them.

He imagines that they’d sit on his birthing bed in silent awe as they held their child for the first time. Daniel would cry tears of joy and kiss Max so softly that Max would chase his lips for more. Always wanting more when Daniel was concerned. Max would try his best to not cry, but he’d be a mess the moment he saw Daniel with their baby in his arms and cooing at the life they had created together.

He imagines waking up in the middle of the night to an empty bed and softly padding through their home until he reaches the nursery. There he would find Daniel in the rocking chair he had bought for Max with their baby resting against his chest. Sometimes he likes to imagine Daniel awake and singing to their baby. Daniel’s not the best at singing, but he would coo in the gentle tone that would make it sound like the sweetest song ever. Other times he likes to imagine Daniel having fallen asleep with their baby fast asleep on his chest. His two loves together like the best thing Max could ever imagine.

He doesn’t have to imagine anymore. He doesn’t have to dream about the family he’ll have with Daniel anymore. Soon, in a few months, he’ll have that.

Just him, Daniel, and their baby.

Everything he’s always wanted, everything he’s dreamt of, everything he’s wished for on his birthdays, on the random shooting stars he’s seen over the years, on the fallen eyelashes Daniel loves to pick up and hold out for Max to make wishes on, at 11:11.

Just seven more months (seven months of him growing his and Daniel’s baby in his belly!!!) and they’d be parents to the most perfect baby to ever exist because it would be their baby.

But there’s also only seven months until he gives birth to their baby. Only seven months to get everything ready and there’s so much to do. They still need to get the nursery ready, buy clothes and toys, find a nanny that can travel with them on race weekends, and baby proof their apartment.

There’s so much to do and so little time.

Maybe he can surprise Daniel with some of the stuff done. Maybe it would ease some of the stress Daniel is facing with McLaren when he returns from the MTC.

But he can’t do all the shopping alone. Their baby would end up in a Red Bull shrine if he was left to his own devices. And while he does love the comfort of the Red Bull team merch, their baby deserves something even better than a Red Bull themed nursery. Their baby deserved the very best of the best.

“Max?” Charles asks when he opens his door. Max frowns slightly when he sees Charles’ red-rimmed eyes filled with what looked like tears. Max doesn’t let himself think too much of it. “Wha-what are you doing here? I thought you would be at the hospital,” he questions.

“The next check-up isn’t until the first trimester is over,” Max sighs, slightly disappointed at the thought of having to wait a little longer. He didn’t like waiting much. Max wasn’t used to waiting. “I, of course, have not reached the end of the first trimester yet. But by the time Daniel returns from the McLaren factory, it should be time,” he informs Charles.

“Trimester, check-up? What?”

_______

Charles has to fight his tears as he looks through nursery furniture with Max. “Do you think Daniel would prefer the wooden one or the white one?” Max questions, looking between two cribs.

“I think the white one. It will work with any theme,” Charles replies, faking a smile until Max turns back around to look at the cribs.

“How about we return to your apartment?” Charles suggests. “I do not think all this activity could be good for the baby, non? They need rest and midday naps,” he continues, desperately hoping Max would agree.

He can’t pretend that everything is fine for much longer. He can’t keep directing people away from them without Max noticing the pitying looks sent their way, the condolences on their lips just waiting to be voiced. He himself wants to break down in tears at a second’s notice and cannot do so without destroying the fantasy Max has created for himself and perhaps screwing him up even further.

“I am tired. That is a very good idea,” Max agrees.

Charles stays with Max until he falls asleep. Running his hand through Max’s hair to ease him into sleep quicker, recalling something Daniel had said a few years ago in passing with a sleeping Max on his lap.

“Charles? Why’d you call me here?” Pierre questions, walking into Max’s apartment when Charles had opened the door for him. He can’t hold it in anymore, can’t suppress the tears and pretend everything’s fine. He breaks down into sobs in Pierre’s arms. “Calamar?”

“I went nursery shopping with Max,” Charles finally reveals between tears. “Something is very wrong, Pierrot.” So he tells Pierre everything about the day he’d spent with Max, about the things Max had said. With every word he says, Pierre’s concern for Max grows. “He’s so happy, and I… how do we…” he trails off in broken sentences.

[bubuslutty]

Day 5: progress report

this is part 5, all parts

pairing: angel/demon!fem reader x 141

word count: 2.4k

tags: supernatural elements, no use of y/n, 3rd person pov, proofread by me so sorry for any mistakes

warnings: body horror (no gore or overly graphic descriptions)

summary: Angel has to give a report of her progress, we finally meet 2 more characters + a bit of Wish Angels lore

a/n: sometimes im sooo shit at naming chapters 😭 but anyway, do you guys have any name ideas for the office man cuz at the moment he's nameless, like does it bother you he's nameless? or should I give him a name? eh idk. Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed this chapter/serie, means lots 💖

⚠️ I can't seem to be able to tag some of you, please scroll down and check the spelling of your username if I accidentally misspelled it, if I didn't, have a look at your settings or let me know if you changed your username.

At first, it was Angel standing in the middle of her room, the blinds drawn shut, the windows closed and the door locked. Then there was burning wind, unbearable heat and swirling lights coming out of nowhere. She parted her lips, her canines growing sharp and two sharp horns growing out of her skull, ripping her scalp like wet paper and immediately sewing itself like nothing happened.

Her furniture was shaking, the ground vibrating and her walls cracked open. Angel didn’t seem phased, nor was Kuromi, who was curled up on the bed, lazily blinking and watching her owner change form in real-time.

Then it was a long black and sharp tail that grew, making her gasp and arch her back. Angel blinked, her eyes getting wet in corners and then after a while, her black pupils spilt over her irises and her eyes turned violet over white. Smoke spilled over her pink lips, escaping her throat and clouding her sight. Then with a thundering crack, she hunched over and pitch black wings broke out of her back, taller and wider than her body.

Her ceiling broke in the middle, her roof collapsing on itself and making a hole above her, where she could see swirling dark colours and flickering lights.

“I’ll be back by dinner.” Angel said over her shoulder, looking at her cat before she spread her wings and jumped, leaving through the giant hole in her ceiling, and as soon as left, it closed up in a blink and the room was washed by natural darkness again, no shaking, no weird lights, no wind or heat, just her room with her cat napping on her bed.

.

.

.

When Angel reappeared again, she found herself in a dark alleyway, in front of a closed door with a single man standing in front of it, arms crossed and sporting a poker face. Angel pulled her short dress down and walked towards the man.

“Wish division number?” He asked.

“5852.” Angel answered and he gave her a nod, stepping to the side as the door opened by itself, letting the demon in.

Angel entered what seemed to be a club in a basement, it was dark and hard to see beyond what the colourful flickering lights allowed you to see. It looked like just any other club, booming music, drunk and dancing bodies. But the closer you looked, the longer you looked, you start to notice that a woman is staring straight at you from the end of the room. There was a man that no matter which angle he turned, it was impossible to see his face, and he wasn’t even wearing a hat. Some people seemed to be taller, bigger, than an average human, some limbs seemed to be longer, other shorter, some looked like they had a third, fourth, sixth eye and some didn’t look like average humans but unrecognisable creatures.

The sight didn’t phase Angel at all and she walked straight to the bar, ignoring someone who flew past her. Angel settled herself on a stool, her tail wrapping itself around a leg, the bartender immediately noticed her presence and walked over, a grin on his lips.

“Well, look who decided to show up after what? Three months?” The man said, and so far, he was the only one who looked the most human out of everyone.

“I missed you too.” Angel grinned, resting her chin on her palm.

“The usual?” He said, already taking out a new glass.

“The usual.” Angel confirmed with a smile, looking around the place.

“So… Why’re you here?” He asked, mixing her drink.

“For work, I have to give an in-person report of my progress.” Angel said, watching the man work.

“I heard that your assignment has 8 humans on it, what’s that all about?” He asked, glancing up at her with a small smirk.

Angel rolled her eyes, “Who told you about that?”

“News travels fast around here.” He hummed, handing her the drink with a wink.

“Yeah, I have to earn the favour of 8 humans.” She said before taking a sip of her dark glowing drink, humming at the taste.

“You have to fuck 8 humans, is what you mean.” He corrected her, aggressively wiping the counter.

“Whatever, same thing.” Angel shrugged, unbothered.

“You always get these types of Wish Assignments, it’s always you.” He pointed out, pursing his lips and frowning.

“You’re jealous?” Angel raised a brow, lips on her glass and took a sip, without breaking eye contact with the man.

“Me? No way. I don’t want to be the victim of your powers, that shit’s freaky, and not in the good way.” He said, shuddering.

Angel frowned, “You believe I use my powers to directly seduce humans?”

“Obviously, that’s how it works.” The man laughed.

“I don’t directly use my powers on humans. Never did and never will.” She said and the man snapped his mouth shut.

“I thought it was just rumours, but you really don’t- Angel, what the fuck.” The man said, trying to grasp how she manages to fulfil so many wishes without using her powers to seduce men and women to do whatever she needs them to do.

“Not all Wish Angels are obligated to use their powers to directly influence humans, it’s not in the rules, even though most Wish Angels prefer to use their powers, but I don’t, it’s a matter of personal choice.” Angel explained, her voice cool.

The man gaped at her, not believing what he just heard. Angel silently watched him and sipped at her drink.

“So, they really just…You always complete your assignments without using your powers on them?...” He mumbled.

Angel grinned, her sharp canines glinting under the lights, “Yeah, remember when I told you I was really good at my job?”

The bartender almost swallowed his tongue and started coughing, his face burning in embarrassment and arousal.

Angel noticed someone familiar in the corner of her eye and turned her stool around, waving a man over, "Hey! Over here!"

It was the same man that Angel went to when she first received her assignment, his hair sticking in all directions and an irritated look on his face before settling down on a stool next to her.

“Give me whatever’s strongest, please.” He told the bartender, and ran his hand through his hair, sighing.

“Why don’t you act normal for once and email me instead of summoning me in this…this place?” He glared at Angel, turning his body around in his stool to face her.

Angel grinned, "I just wanted to take you out from that shitty office you spend weeks in."

The man stared at Angel and sighed, turning his body away from her and instead staring forward, at the bartender working on his drink.

"How's that assignment going so far?" He asked Angel.

"In general or should I go through each human I've interacted with?" Angel asked, mirth swimming behind her haunting violet eyes.

The man hissed, "You've been a Wish Angel for 200 years, what do you think?"

Angel giggled, "I was just teasing you, relax." She nudged him in the shoulder with one of her wings, making him grab his head in both hands.

"I'll start with John Price. So far, he's been pretty respectful and polite, nothing much has happened between us, give it time and he'll open up." Angel started.

"So he hasn't shown any signs of attraction?" The man asked, raising a brow.

"He did, very subtle and small signs though, but he's still reserved, unlike his boys." Angel added.

"Who broke first?" He asked after thanking the bartender and taking a sip of his clear blue drink.

"Johnny MacTavish." Angel smiled.

"What happened?" The man hummed.

"Flirting, he's obviously interested. I can sense wariness from him, though."

"He doesn't trust you?"

"Maybe, I have a feeling he's trying to see me, and what kind of… person I am, he doesn't want to be taken advantage of, either."

The man sighed when he gulped all of the drink down and raised a finger to get a refill, "He'll crack soon enough."

Angel hummed, "Gaz is also interested, he'll crack soon enough, I imagine he would wait and see if anyone would make a move on me and figure out what type of situation they're in."

The man glanced at Angel, "And what then? What would you do if they pull away because you've already got one of them?"

"Don't worry about that, I know exactly what to do." Angel smirked and the man blinked at her, his eyes falling on her lips and quickly looking away from her face.

"Ghost is also pretty closed off at the moment, nothing has happened yet but he'll get there. He's okay with having me around so that's a win." Angel said.

"That makes four of them, what about the other four?" He asked, intrigued to know if she had a plan for when the other four would join the picture.

"Well, I already know that two out of the four humans I haven’t met yet know that I exist, so there’s that.” Angel revealed with a grin, and lifted her empty glass to request a refill.

The man raised his brows in interest, “Really?”

“Yeah, things are starting to get more and more interesting.” Angel said, feeling excitement pulse under her skin, and her tail started swinging from side to side.

The man didn’t miss the movement of her tail and sighed, “Is that all you have for me today?”

“Yep.” Angel nodded, popping the P.

The man gulped the rest of his drink and stood up, “If that’s all, I’m going back to the office.”

“The office? Really? Why don’t you hang back and have some fun, hm? Loosen up? Dance a bit?” She suggested, placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing, tilting her head to the side.

“No, thanks. I’ve got work to do, and so do you.” He shook his head and pulled his jacket down to smooth out any wrinkles.

“Alright, I’m going back.” Angel said, standing up and stretching her wings with a groan, eyes clenched shut.

“And Angel?” The man said, making her eyes snap open.

“Yes?”

“Take care.”

“I will.”

.

.

.

Earlier, during the barbeque

The potato salad was delicious, Angel realised as she ate more and more spoonfuls. It wasn’t anything special, but it was delicious. Johnny knows how to cook, that man knows how to use his spices and herbs very well.

“Angel, don’t just eat vegetables, have some meat.” Price laughed when he noticed her standing by the table, a spoon in hand and eating away at the potato salad like a raccoon. She was still wearing her bikini and a pair of slippers, her green bucket hat still on her head, keeping her hair away from her eyes and mouth.

Angel was snapped out of her trance by John’s deep laugh and blushed in embarrassment, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise for enjoying food, come here and bring your plate.” Price said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at her.

Angel wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and grabbed her plate, walking over to the grill and hummed when she could smell the scent of well seasoned meat. “What do you want?”

“Uhm, I think I want the chicken skewers, please?” She asked, eyes glued to the grill. Price watched the woman with a small smile, amusement swimming in his eyes and placed two chicken skewers in her plate, “Enjoy, and don’t hesitate to come over and ask for more, alright?”

“Thank you, John.” Angel smiled up at the man and went to sit at the table in the middle of the garden, filled with drinks, cups, sauces and other salty snacks.

“Can I sit here?” Angel stood next to Ghost, pointing at the empty seat next to him. The man nodded, mouth busy chewing away at a chicken thigh, mask hunched up on the bridge of his nose.

Angel happily sat down and ignored the nasty scar at the corner of Ghost’s mouth and the scars on the skin of his neck and the others high on his arms, and how he was the only one wearing a t-shirt, well Price was wearing an apron because there’s no way he will be standing in front of the grill shirtless, but Soap and Gaz were shirtless, only wearing shorts with slippers and a hat for the sun.

The woman was happily chewing when Soap came back from the toilet, happily making his way to Price and getting his plate filled, “How’s the potato salad?”

“Soooo gooooooddd!” Angel said, giving him a thumbs up and he grinned, his grin brighter than the fucking sun blazing in the sky.

“Gaz did you season the chicken skewers?” Angel asked the man sitting in front of her.

“Yeah, is it good? Do you like it?” He asked, biting his lower lip and looking up at her through his eyelashes.

“Absolutey divine.” Angel said, placing a hand on her chest and fake fainting on her chair, moaning at the taste.

“Cap, leave that grill alone and come sit down with us.” Gaz said, waving the man over.

“I’m calling Ale and Rudy.” Soap suddenly said, grabbing his phone.

“Don’t bother them now when they’re working.” Price scolded the man, as Angel watched them with interest.

Soap kept staring at his phone until he started grinning, “ALEJANDRO!”

“It’s 7.30 in the morning, pendejo.” A deep voice came out of the phone, making everyone laugh around the table.

“Alejandro…” Another deeper voice, softer, said making the first voice cough.

“How’s England treating you? It looks like you’ve been graced with some sun today!” Alejandro said, and Johnny flipped the camera, pointing it towards the grill.

“We’re having a barbeque, today!” Soap said.

“Enjoy it, you deserve it, hermano.” The other voice said.

“Thank you, Rudy!” Gaz said.

“Come visit us someday when you get the chance, okay?” Soap told the man.

“We’ll try, Johnny.” Alejandro said, making Soap nod, “We’ll let you go now, guys say bye.”

Soap pointed the camera towards all of the men as they all waved at the camera and wished the men a great day.

“Wait, is that the one you were telling us about?” Alejandro said, making everyone freeze, including Angel, her mouth open and a chip between her fingers.

“She’s very pretty...” Rodolfo added.

“Shut up, she can hear you!” Soap hissed, almost dropping his phone.

“Bye, Soap’s neighbour!” Alejandro said loudly and laughed before Soap hung up, turning 3 different shades of red.

Angel laughed, “Bye!”

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @loveyhoneydovey @cutiecusp @pinkwigonmytv @mandythemint @itsberrydreemurstuff @tapioca-marzipan @fruitymoonbeams-blog @poohkie90 @chaoticevilbakugo @anubis-reed @thefairybird @skytacvia @marytvirgin @cynicalmnm @maechanexe @t0jis-worm @1800imgay @4ndjelij4 @multitargaryen @lilpothoscuttings @mysticalpandabear @silviafantin15 @marvel-ness @bobastayhigh

[ghulehunknown]

Hello!! Uhm may I request papa terzo dealing with a shy reader who wants to be fucked and mutters how she wants Terzo to take her right their and then and Terzo hears it and he goes”oh what was that? You would like me to fuck you raw yes? That is what I heard” or sum like that 😭 you don’t have too !!! Have an amazing rest of your week

Ask and you shall receive! / {Warning - the following contains NSFW smut}

Terzo x F!Reader

**NSFW**

Summary: You’re a new hire Sister of Sin and you’ve won the opportunity of having a private audience with Papa Terzo.

CW/Tags: female reader, shy reader, characters drinking alcohol, vaginal fingering, P in V sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: 1900

“La Lezione di Lucifero”

You walked up to his office door and hesitated before knocking. “Fuck,” you whispered under your breath. Were you really going to do this?

You moved all the way from your boring hometown to work at the Ministry. Wasn’t this the life you wanted to live - a life full of spontaneity and a little depravity?

Anyway, you had quite literally won the lottery. Every new hire got a chance to have a night with Papa…in whatever manner they wished to, so long as Papa gave you a particular wink in the hallway. At least, that’s what you were told. You were also told this was more or less an unofficial initiation ceremony to let Lucifer’s spirit into your body through Papa - though you were certain that was a crock of shit excuse Terzo used to sleep with as many Siblings as possible.

Finally you knocked on his office door, your heart beating so hard you could practically feel it in your throat.

The door opened and there he stood - Jesus Christ, he was even more intimidating up close. He looked surprised at first, then smiled almost smugly.

“Hello, Papa, I… I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” you stammered, looking at the floor, noticing the fine leather detail on his shoes.

“No, we haven’t. But I know who you are,” he said, stating your name matter-of-factly. “You’re new.”

“That’s right, Papa. You’re very observant,” you said sheepishly, instinctively reaching to tuck your hair behind your ear, still not used to wearing your veil.

“I notice everything. I have to; it’s my job.”

You nodded quickly, still avoiding his gaze though you could practically feel his white iris piercing into you. “Yes, of course Papa, I - I didn’t mean to…I mean of course you…”

“Relax Sorella, and come inside,” he said, stepping away from the door and gesturing for you to come in.

You stepped through the threshold of his office, never in your wildest dreams thinking you’d be granted entry in a million years. The room was dark - deep purple walls with tapestries, mahogany furniture, and black slate floor tiles. It looked quite elegant.

“Are you still working this late?” you asked him, entering the middle of the room.

“Mmm, a little yes and a little no,” he admitted. “No rest for the wicked as they say.”

You smiled at him and let out a tiny laugh.

“So,” he started, moving things around on the bar cart opposite his desk, the clink of the glasses bringing you to your senses. “You want to get fucked tonight, eh?” he continued with a smirk, pouring you both a glass of something clear in two ornate glasses. He handed you one.

How did he know what you had on your mind? Your face must’ve flushed bright red because Papa took a casual sip from the glass and spoke again. “Nervous? You don’t have to be. We won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Mm?”

“Yes, Papa,” you practically whispered, taking a slow sip then coughing as soon as the burning liquid hit your throat.

“Careful, Sorella,” he said, leaning against his desk nonchalantly and lifting the glass to his regal mouth. You watched as the glass touched his soft bottom lip and you bit yours, holding back your imagination of feeling his lips on yours. You wondered if his Papal paint ever smeared, and what it might look like smudged onto your face. He brushed his bottom lip with his thumb and looked like he was pondering his next move.

You didn’t want to seem impolite so you choked down another swig of the - what was it, gin?

He set his glass down on a side table and walked towards you, taking your glass from your hand. He took a sip from yours and muttered “Mmn. Cherry lip gloss?”

You blushed and started to tuck your hair behind your ear again, before remembering your veil once more. “Yes, Papa.”

“Hmm, my favorite.” He set your glass down next to his. He lifted your chin so you were both gazing at one another. He tilted his head and leaned in to kiss you - suddenly it felt like you were flying and losing sense of time. Yes, his lips were soft, somehow even softer than you’d imagined. He pulled away, licking his lips. “È delizioso.”

You held your hand up to your mouth, already missing his.

He walked over to his desk and opened up a drawer, rummaging around and pulling out a very small, metallic package and setting it down. “How do you want it?” he asked plainly, looking at you.

“P-pardon?” you asked.

“How do you want it? On the desk, or on the couch? Would you prefer to be on top, or do you like to be on the bottom?”

“I, er - ” you stammered. You gulped, and took a few steps forward until you faced him on the other side of the desk. “On the desk.”

“Very well,” he responded. He began to open the little package when you noticed it was a condom.

You held your hand out to stop him. “No, Papa. I just need to feel all of you, right here, right now.”

His lips - Satanas, those beautiful lips - curled into a wicked smile. “Ho sentito bene? So you want Papa to fuck you raw, eh?”

Your hand still over his, you looked into his eyes and responded, “Yes.”

He reached for your face, grasping your cheek in his hand and dove in for another kiss, this time faster and rougher. You sloppily returned the gesture, feeling your tongues slip inside each other’s mouths in desperate fervor.

“Mmn,” he said, pulling away. “Sorella, I must disclose it would be safer if we used protection. I did, eh, just attend an orgy last night. Who the fuck knows what may be…lingering, you see?”

You nod, making your way around his desk. “I said, Papa,” you started. “I need to feel all of you right here. Please Papa just take me,” you breathed into his neck, kissing him again.

He held your waist in his hands, kissing you roughly then making his way to your neck.

You took off your veil, letting your hair fall around your shoulders. He took a strand in his hand, smelling it then exhaling. In one swift motion you unzipped your habit and let it fall to the floor, looking down at your knees and noticing your legs were shaking.

He gazed at you, biting his bottom lip as he watched you undress. He looked, for a lack of a better term, hungry. He noticed how shaky you were taking off your clothes and grasped around your waist again. “You’re shaking, Sorella. Let me help you.” He slid your panties off your waist and you yanked them the rest of the way off.

You hopped up on his desk, spreading your legs partially, hesitant to show him every bit of you.

“You are molto bellissima, Sorella. Has anyone ever told you that?” He held your chin in his hand.

You shook your head, pursing your lips.

“What a pity. Because you are very pretty. And you would look prettier filled with my cock on my desk.”

You tilted your head back as he kissed you again, placing his hand between your legs, carefully caressing around your labia before slipping in between your lips and easily sliding his middle finger inside your entrance. You moaned, arching your back as he filled you and slid back out.

“You are very wet for your Papa already,” he said in a praising tone. He slipped his gloved finger into your mouth. “See? There’s a good girl.”

He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a bare chest (minus a few dark hairs across his pecs) and soft but toned arms. He kissed your neck as he unzipped his trousers and flung them, his gloves, and his underwear off. His hard cock bobbed as it was released from his pants, flushed pink at the tip and ready to enter you.

He caressed you, sliding his hand up to your back and unhooking your bra in one hand, holding your face with his other as he kissed you. You slid the straps down your arms and let the bra fall to the floor.

Once your breasts were free, he took each in his mouth, pinching your other nipple in between his fingers as he swirled his tongue around the other; taking turns and switching.

He kissed you roughly while he lined his hips up with yours, sliding his erection in between your folds and pausing at your entrance.

“Are you sure, Sorella? We can use protection, it does not take anything away,” he said, looking at you earnestly.

You grabbed onto his ass and pushed him into you, sliding him in with ease. “I need to feel all of you Papa, and invite the Unholy Spirit inside me.” Your mouth opened in an “ahh” as he filled you.

He groaned. “I guess that’s my answer,” he said, chuckling, leaning in to kiss you again while he began to pump in and out of you. “Sì Sorella, ahhh - cazzo you’re so fucking tight! - this is - fuuuck,” he breathed, pummeling into you at a much faster pace now. “This is the most effective way to induct you into the Church, mmmn, ahhh Satanas...” His breathing was much heavier now, yours escaping your lips in shudders.

You moaned with every thrust into you, feeling him fill you and stretch you. Your hands trailed all over his body and through his perfect raven hair. “You’re an ahhh - amazing teacher, Papa.”

“It really is the most effective with a female orgasm,” he said on a sigh, continuing to thrust. He brought his hand between your legs again, circling around your clit with his thumb, matching the pace he was fucking into you.

“Oh fuck, Papa!” you exclaimed, feeling your orgasm take over. He bent his head down to suck on your nipples, taking your high even higher. As your whole body quivered, you could feel yourself clench around his cock - which, clearly, sent him over the edge as well.

“Shit, Satanas!” he moaned, pumping his seed into you. You both clung to one another, breathing heavily before pulling away and beginning to put your garments back on.

“Did it work, Papa?” you asked inquisitively, putting on your habit and zipping it up.

“Mm?”

“Has Lucifer entered me? Am I admitted into the Church?”

“Ah - ” he said, stuffing himself back into his trousers, clearly pulling this explanation out of his ass. “Sì Sorella, but you may need to - hmm, come again tomorrow. I believe you need more sessions to fully let Lucifer in.”

“Is that so, Papa?” you ask coyly, looking towards his crotch - still half an erection poking through, then back up at his eyes.

“Sì, it is…imperative that your body be worshipped as a temple, and these praises be whispered in tongues into your skin. Your body is to be celebrated for creating the most sinful of acts. You may not be aware of how powerful the female orgasm is.”

Your brain wandered, thinking of all the possible things this could mean.

“And of course, you must…ingest the soul of Lucifer too,” he added.

Now that one you were pretty sure you understood. You tilted your head down in a bow. “Of course, Papa. I know Satan requires this of me before I am fully admitted to the Church.”

He cleared his throat. “Same time tomorrow, Sorella.”

“Of course, Papa.”

{to be continued..?}

Italian to English Translation

- La Lezione di Lucifero (Lucifer’s Lesson)

- È delizioso. (That’s delicious.)

- Ho sentito bene? (Did I hear correctly?)

- molto bellissima (very beautiful)

- cazzo (fuck)

[plutopitou]

◇ The price to pay

takami keigo | hawks x female reader

genre: dark content, angsty

You continue to fight and back talk Keigo. Even though he stole you away, couldn’t you see it was all useless? It’s the bed that you made and now you have to lie in it. | MDNI 18+

word count: 1.9k

warnings: yandere!hawks, he’s mean in this one :( , lowkey misogynistic themes but its hot cuz its him, degradation, smut, slight manipulation, dumbification, dub/con, rough sex, language not for the lighthearted

I did this so quickly in my standards and I’m kinda in love with it. Ok luv u guys bye bye

Keigo wondered why you loved to poke the sleeping bear.

Or better yet, why you continued to throw rocks at the big, scary predatory bird. It was the third time this week you did this.

You anxiously pick at your cuticles feigning a face of disinterest. You didn’t have to raise your head to see Keigo’s hard, amber stone eyes lock onto your sitting figure, trying to penetrate the fort you built.

It’ll all crumble down eventually, he thought.

You always mentally complimented how much you loved that glass white rice bowl, peppered with small colorful flowers and blue trims. Its fragments are scattered on the wood floor with steaming white grains , shattered into a puzzle you don’t think you can put back together.

“Clean it up.”

Your stomach jolts from his stern voice, anticipating possibly the worst any second. If you knew anything about the hero, it was his unpredictable nature. Yet still, you seemed to toy around knowing that.

He comes back with a bowl in his right hand, pushing to you a glass of water. The table rattles with him settling his rice bowl in front of his chair with a perfectly centered yellow egg yolk.

“And if I don’t?” You sip on the water, watching him sit and begin to eat without you. He knew if you won’t eat, you’ll drink something instead.

Keigo isn’t fazed as this game as been played out. It wasn’t the first time you’ve acted out before. There’s been tipped over expensive dishes, slit furniture coughing up stuffing, pulled knives, and hair cut in spite.

You always thought back to when your parents sit you down and had the the talk of what to do if you’re in a bad situation. It was to run. The answer was to always run away, but what help could that ever do when the chaser was right above you.

“Why do you always insist on fighting me, hm?” He asks. “Haven’t all my furniture suffered enough?” He chuckles pushing a slab of rice into his mouth.

With each slice on the fabric you screamed with it, pondering why couldn’t it be him instead. He held no fear to you like you did him, you are still a little kitten trying to bear its claws.

“You can pretend to be some picture perfect hero all you want, climbing the ranks to gain the trust of the public..” You slam down the glass. “But you know you’ll never be number one. And when the day comes that everyone finds out how much of a goddamn fake you are, I’ll be laughing with the rest of them..”

“you’re a fucking psychotic fraud.”

You were scared. Keigo knew that.

From the day he wisped you away, it was a challenge to pry a moment where you weren’t always so angry. Yet you were still so easy to steal away from everyone. That Thursday morning he first met you, he could count on one hand how many days it took until you gagged underneath him, a drooling, mumbling mess. So beautiful, sweet and kind; always saying sorry even if it wasn’t your fault, you were just that type of gentle person.

You were just so.. easy.

Surface level, there was still a phantom feeling of that Keigo walking past you in the morning making breakfast, performing a stellar act as a normal being. That deep rooted desire locked away behind your heart, it was so obvious you kept that vision of him in front of you trying to forget the sour identity. But you wished he would stop lying. You poke and prod until he clenches his jaw and just wants to hit you.

He can forgive his baby for being a little upset they don’t have full control over themselves anymore. He forgave you for slashing his furnishings, breaking his fine china and pulling weapons out on him in wrath. But there was something special in the way you set your foul agenda on the goal he just can’t seem to grasp.

You knew that.

“Clean that up and go. You’re done for tonight.” Was all he uttered. You quietly finished half of the water before cleaning up your mess. From Keigo’s sudden quietness you choose to end it right there, the last thing you wanted to do was feel bad for the words you said.

You anticipated some sort of reaction from the red-winged hero, however he won’t spoil when you’re gonna get it- and you will.

Walking into the room was nothing less than a haze, wondering if the events from earlier even happened, feeling like some sort of obscure dream. Why couldn’t you remember walking into the room? Or passing out on your shared bed you’re forced to lay in.

There was a time in your childhood you were always so dizzy. You get up too fast, you fall right back down where you came from. The lights flashed in front of your eyes and you’d wake back up wondering if it was the next day.

In another life maybe the circumstances would’ve been different, but this is the life you’re living now.

Your eyes peel open, a proding sensation deep in your mouth.

You’re forced to breathe thrrough your nose, immediately gripping onto the strong wrist maneuvering the fingers in your throat. Your eyes advert to Keigo looking down at you, predatory gaze locked and unmoving.

The situations settles in your stomach, feeling you body laid over his lap, head cushioned on the bed while Keigo continues to fuck your mouth. Tears bubble on your lashes, spitting out as he teases the warm cavern.

“You up now, baby?” He whispers. “Are you ready to apologize now, hm?” He pulls out, you choke and gasp trying to fill up on as much air before he takes it from you again.

The spite he emits during his violations is the type to make you plead and cry. Were you perfectly confident in the idea that he wouldn’t kill you one of these days? That he certainly had enough and would let you cum one last time before you pass out and ponder if you’ll wake up again? Would he try and fuck your passed out body until he came inside in an attempt to awaken you in your slumber? Was he that unhinged?

You moaned a cry, your hips scrambling to get up, his strong hold on your face keeps you still.

“You know I try really hard, sweetheart.” He pushes his hand back inside. “Everytime you act out, it’s because I let you- fuck, yes gag for me.” You trash on him. “But you just keep trying to shove me until I don’t wanna place nice anymore.. is that what you want, hm?” He asks mockingly. His sharp handsome face getting closer as he coos at your cute little whimpers and sharp inhales through your nose, tempting him to close it shut so you can really feel how much power you have. “Would you rather I chain you up, keep you in a dark room until I come and fuck you full of my cock and leave? Do you like this shit or something?” He asks exasperated.

Keigo pulls his hand out of your hot mouth, strings of spit chaining you to him. Heaving, you shoot out whatever you can to defend yourself. “No, Keigo, please-“

He quickly clasps on your soft, slender neck, gripping to shut you up, he didn’t care for your excuses. “Nu-uh, you’ve talked enough today, baby.” Keigo slides his free hand over the cloth of your panties, teasingly dipping in from the sides, loving the warm sensation of your slick already soaking through. “That’s all you do is talk, and talk, and talk. You’re much better off shutting up and taking what I give you.” He looms over you, “Mhm, just shut the fuck up and take it pretty baby, here.”

You cry as Keigo pushes three fingers inside your slick cunt, taking it eagerly like he’s never spoiled you before. He gasps at the throbbing sensation of your wet tunnel, his lips ghosting over yours, sucking up your cries and soul with it.

You never seem to fucking understand, don’t you? Each vile word and insult- you had this coming, you couldn’t be so stupid to not see it? Was the taste of the spiked water not obvious enough or were the nerves of anticipating something else in that moment so distracting you couldn’t feel the fatigue stir in your body? He wanted to laugh.

You’re a bumbling mess, not even a coherent being anymore with your sentences jumbling together not making any sense; completely focused on thrusting up your waist attempting to feel him go deeper.

His fingers curl against the side of your soft flesh, causing you to flinch .

“Fuck, I love it when you cry, it’s alright- cry more.” He whispers, watching your tears fall attentively. “Your sweet, drooling face, baby, you look so pathetic and I love it.” He rambles, voice low against your cheek, the grip on your neck is almost bruising and you revel in the fear. He knows you do in the way you clumsily wither in his grip, not to get away but a silent plead to give what you truly want.

The clench of your pussy was enough of a clue to say you’re ready to cum if he’ll let you. You whine on his side, Keigo’s small laughs at your desperation left you feeling so restless.

“You wished it was my cock instead, right, baby? But you don’t deserve that, no, not after this shit you keep pulling.” Your voice gets caught up in your throat as he squeezes harder. He jackrabbits your little cunt with his hand, gasping at your expression and the lewd aura of your crying pussy. “I’m so obsessed with you, sweet girl, fucking cum on me baby, yeah, yeah, yeah.” Keigo rambles holding your body closer to his heat, mumbling such obscene and vulgar language for you, how much he loves your slutty body, how he can spit in your mouth and slap you and somehow you’d still end up on your knees asking for forgiveness.

The room echos with your choked gasps and squelch from his hands, giving any porn video a run for their money. You roll your eyes feeling warm liquid squirt from your cunt on its own accord, completely soaking Keigo’s wrist. He didn’t mind, instead continued to pump your sore pussy searching for more until there was no more left, teasing your wet folds till you flinched just because he can.

Your figure is slumped against the bed, Keigo looking over you fucked-out body in approval. He holds you close to his sitting figure as you doze off again. There were only so many times he would willingly let you pretend to have an upper hand on the unstable relationship he forced upon you.

Keigo would never deny the role he plays when it comes to you. Was he any different than the Gods at these shrines people pray to? All forgiveness of apologies was his decision to accept and they were only accepted with crude prices.

And if you continue to sin, it’s in your best interest to get on your knees in front of him and start praying.

Haha I got writers block writing Dabi’s story and might rewrite parts of it, but here’s this treat in the mean time <3

Also life got a little tough but I’m happy to have an outlet. Hope to upload Dabi’s next ★彡

Please like, reblog and follow ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄

[waytooinvested]

Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 15

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

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Once they were outside Kara steered them confidently to a cosy little cafe a few blocks away, and insisted on going up to order while Lena sat down on one of the saggy sofas tucked into a back corner. It wasn’t somewhere she would normally have gone into, or even really noticed to pass it on the street. It was a little down at heel, the couch wearing threadbare in patches and some of the paint peeling around the windows, but they had a huge bookshelf filled with an assortment of tatty paperbacks and board games, the whole place smelled welcomingly of fresh coffee and newly baked cakes, and Lena found herself relaxing back into the cushions much more readily than she would have somewhere more upmarket.

In here it didn’t seem to matter that she was still wearing her harness-rumpled theatre t-shirt and sports leggings, or that her hair was a little bit sweaty. It felt like somewhere you could just flop down onto the shabby furniture and be yourself.

It was kind of perfect.

A couple of minutes later Kara was back, a massive mug topped with mounds of fluffy cream and studded all over with mini marshmallows in either hand.

‘What is that?’

‘It’s the deluxe chocolate special, and it’s medicinal, so no complaints.’

Kara plonked one of the mugs down in front of Lena, then took her seat beside her on the squashy couch, knee crooked up onto the cushion so that she was half turned towards her.

‘So… do you want to talk about what happened up there?’

Kara’s expression was all gentle compassion, but Lena found herself unable to meet it. She looked down at her drink instead, nudging the marshmallows around with the edge of her spoon so that all the pink were on one side, all the white on the other, just so she would have an excuse not to look up and meet Kara’s eyes.

‘You don’t have to if you’d rather not tell me. We can talk about something else.’

‘No, no it’s not that. Honestly I’m just so embarrassed. I can’t believe I reacted like that when I knew perfectly well I wasn’t in any danger – it was completely irrational.’

Kara was quiet for a moment, scooping cream from her own hot cocoa while she considered Lena’s words.

‘Did you know that I’m claustrophobic?’

‘I- no. I didn’t.’

‘It’s not something I really tell people if I can help it, but yeah, I am. More so when I was younger. I used to have panic attacks all the time when I first moved in with the Danvers’. It got better over time, but I still feel it sometimes, in elevators, or small places I know I can’t easily get out of. It’s not rational, but my body doesn’t care, and it feels impossible to just logic my way out of it while it’s happening.’

Lena thought of all the times they had shared an elevator. Kara had always seemed perfectly composed, and she wondered what signs she might have missed that she should have been looking after her friend in those moments, rather than casually flirting with her. She wished she had known before so that she could have been more supportive, but she also understood this being something that could feel intensely private, and was touched that Kara was willing to open up to her about it now. It made her want to offer the same in return.

She put her mug back down on the table and turned to give Kara and the conversation her full attention.

‘Do you mind me asking- do you know why it happens? Did something trigger it for you, or has it always been that way?’

‘Not always. It started after an accident I was in as a kid – I was in a car that went off the road and ended up in a ravine. Somehow I wasn’t hurt at all by the fall, but the doors were crushed in pretty badly, and I was trapped in there for- I don’t even know. It felt like years to me then, but I know it can’t have been all that long really – a couple of days maybe. Not long enough for dehydration to become a major danger anyway. I was definitely there for at least one night though, because I remember it being so so dark, and being sure that there were Things right outside trying to come in and hurt me. I was so afraid and so sure no one was ever coming to rescue me. It was not long after my parents died, though I don’t know where I was going or who was driving me, because I can’t remember anyone else being in the car with me or how they got out when I didn’t... I think I’ve blocked a lot of the details out honestly. I just remember how scared I was, and how trapped I felt, and sometimes that all comes flooding back out when I least expect it.’

‘Oh my god, Kara, that’s horrific. I didn’t know…’

But of course, she had known.

Lena had done her research on National City’s resident Kryptonian years ago, and unlike her true identity, the story of how she had come to Earth was hardly a well kept secret. She knew that Supergirl’s pod had gone off route and ended up stuck in the phantom zone for years with the thirteen year old Kryptonian sealed inside it, entirely alone with the knowledge that her whole planet was dead and there was no one left to come and save her. She had just never fully made the connection that that had also happened to Kara – her Kara. Potstickers and trivia Kara. Sunshine smiles and long hugs and ‘I will always protect you’ Kara. She couldn’t bear to imagine her young and afraid, alone in the dark and unable to move from the small space she was trapped in. The story had always been awful, but when it was Kara’s, it was unimaginable.

‘I’m so, so sorry you went through that... And I also cannot believe that you told me a couple of months ago that you “didn’t really have any trauma”.’

Kara exhaled a soft laugh, in spite of the serious subject matter.

‘When you put it like that it does sound kind of ridiculous to claim. I guess I just try not to think about that time in my life too much. I was fostered not long after that, and they were brilliant with me. I got this new wonderful, loving family and a big sister who looked out for me even when we fought, and I was so lucky compared to so many other kids, especially ones who lose their parents at that age. It’s not easy finding a new family as a teenager, and I could so easily have ended up lost in the system, but I didn’t. I think part of me always feels like I can’t complain about any of the bad stuff because I know how good I had it in so many ways.’

‘Well I definitely think that you have every right to complain because I can’t even imagine how awful that must have been for you on top of losing your parents so young… But I also know what you mean. With the Luthors I grew up with immense privilege. I was raised in a mansion, got the best education money could buy, and physically I wanted for nothing. I thrived in a lot of ways, and now I’m a billionaire in my own right, so I never really felt the right to claim a tragic backstory. But… you know my birth mother died when I was four?’

‘Yes. She drowned, right?’

‘She did. I was there.’

‘What?’

‘When it happened. I was with her. It’s one of my earliest memories.’

Lena closed her eyes briefly while she gathered the courage to tell the next part. It was one of her darkest truths and she almost couldn’t bear to let the words out into the light of day, but Kara had shared her own painful past, and Lena wanted to reciprocate in kind no matter how much it might hurt. She opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and continued.

‘I saw her out in the water and I knew that something was wrong, but... I just watched. Silent. I could have screamed or run for help, I could have gone in and tried to rescue her myself, but I didn’t do any of it. I just stood there on the bank and watched my mother die, and ever since I have been trying to come to terms with what I did… I still see it in my dreams. Her swallowing water, struggling to breath, and me watching and doing nothing. What kind of child would do nothing while her mother drowned before her eyes?’

Lena’s eyes had flooded with unwelcome tears, and Kara pressed a wodge of paper napkins into her hand, holding onto her a few moments longer than strictly necessary.

‘That must have been so horrendous for you to witness, and I am so sorry that you went through that. But Lena, you were four. You were so, so little, you couldn’t have known what was going to happen.’

‘She was dying. How could I not have known?’

‘Because you were a baby. At four you barely grasp the concept of death as a thing, let alone that it could ever happen to your parent. Parents are invincible, permanent things to four year olds, there was no way you could have understood. I was thirteen when I lost my family, and I still felt like one day they’d turn up and tell me it had all been some huge mistake after all. What happened to you and your mother was an awful, horrible tragedy, but it wasn’t your fault, and the last thing your mom would have wanted was for you to spend the rest of your life blaming yourself for it.’

If she was being objective about it, Lena knew that Kara probably had a point. Developmental psychology might not be her field, but she knew enough about the maturation schedule of the human brain to understand that at age four she couldn’t have been at a stage where she could fully comprehend what had happened to her mother, let alone have the capability to form a rational plan to rescue her in the few minutes it had taken for her to die.

But Lena’s guilt over her mother’s death and the years she had borne the burden of her own inaction were too big and complicated a thing to simply set down, or even acknowledge aloud that maybe they hadn’t been entirely justified. So instead she confessed a related but less intimate truth – one that was the most she could manage to offer up in this moment.

‘I’ve been deathly afraid of drowning since then. Of course, with the Luthors fear was something you overcame as quickly and quietly as possible lest it be used against you later, so I was enrolled in private swimming lessons when I was five, and even ended up swimming competitively for a brief period before I was allowed to quit to focus on fencing... but I still hate deep water.’

‘So… is the fear of heights more a fear of depths? Because it reminds you of deep water?’

‘I think that’s where it started. I have this vivid memory of a family trip somewhere in the Luthor jet – I’m not sure where, but it can’t have been long after they took me in. Lex had made me this model airplane with a fully functioning propulsion system so he could teach me how a plane stays in the air, and I was excited to be flying for – not the first time, but the first time without being a newly orphaned child on her way to live with strangers. And I really did enjoy it at first. Lex was in his best big brother mode and didn’t even seem to mind when I accidentally broke his plane, he just distracted me by pointing out the view from the window. He talked about it like it was our own private play set that we could reach out and touch if we wanted, and I thought flying was going to be my new favourite thing. Only then the land ran out and there was nothing but blue water as far as I could see, and I started to worry that our plane might fall out of the air the way the model had, and if it did we would all end up down there in the water and I wouldn’t be able to swim back to shore, and I would drown just like my mother. Of course I knew exactly what that looked and sounded like by then, so I could imagine it only too vividly... I always hated flying after that, for all I’ve done so much of it. It isn’t just that though. As an adult I have had some… bad experiences with heights. I would have died several times over if Supergirl hadn’t been there to catch me.’

Lena paused, her eyes meeting Kara’s. She wanted to say thank you for all the times she had saved her without her realising who it was, and for making her feel so much safer flying than she ever had before, despite what seemed like near constant assassination attempts. But she couldn’t, so instead she settled for:

‘But not this time. This time you saved me.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far. You’d have got down fine by yourself eventually, I just helped a little.’

‘You did more than help a little. Seriously, Kara. Thank you. You’re my hero.’

Kara gave her the softest, sweetest smile then, and the moment between them felt so intensely pure and open that Lena found she had to break it or she would do something stupid.

Like cry.

Or lean over and kiss Kara.

She looked back down at her hot cocoa instead, its cream now dripping down the sides of the mug, and took a messy sip, trying to bury her swelling emotion in chocolatey escapism. She stayed like that for several slow, sugary swallows, until melted marshmallow was adhering to her lips and she felt she had regained enough composure to meet Kara’s eyes again without doing something she shouldn’t. She tried for lightness instead, as if they hadn’t just had the most intense, honest exchange of her recent past in the corner of a chintzy little coffee house.

‘So. I think it’s safe to say that I shouldn’t come with you next time you do this.’

Kara must have realised that Lena needed to be done with the deep conversation, and switched gears without missing a beat to match the joking tone of her comment.

‘Darn, really? I was going to suggest we try base jumping next week.’

Lena gave a theatrical shudder.

‘You know what? That sounds like it would be a great sister bonding opportunity. You should get Alex to go with you.’

‘Oh, that is a FANTASTIC idea.’