#and a detached keyboard on my stomach

[inevitablestars]

my setup rn to try and write is making me laugh

[ohgodthevoices]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Save point °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

time skip kenma x f!reader

word count : 2922

Premise : You’re a concept artist who recently moved to Tokyo after a personal tragedy left you questioning your purpose. You take a low-key job at a new gaming studio, where you meet Kenma Kozume, the quiet yet sharp CEO. Initially, you clash—Kenma is reserved and brutally honest, while you’re more expressive but guarded. However, as you work together on a passion project, the walls you’ve both built around yourselves begin to crumble.

note : this fanfic will be on my ao3 >here< it might be more organized and easier to keep up with it but i will still upload the chapters here <3

chapter 1/ chapter 2

Chapter one

The Tokyo skyline stretched endlessly outside the glass windows of the modest office. The sound of computers and the faint clicking of keyboards filled the space, a rhythm you’d grown accustomed to over the past few weeks. But today, there was an edge in the air—a tension you couldn’t ignore.

You adjusted your headphones, trying to drown out the growing sense of unease. You began to notice every little noise, the elevator opening and closing , the cars beeping outside, the messed up tie of the man walking past you, the ice melting in your cup of coffee.

“You’ll be collaborating directly with Kozume-san on the upcoming project. Effective immediately.”

Your stomach churned. You’d only been here a month, barely long enough to learn everyone’s names, let alone work with the CEO himself. You had joined this company partly because of its reputation for having a younger, laid-back workforce. It was refreshing to work somewhere that didn’t require stiff suits or stifling formalities. Here, you could stroll into the office in sweats, hair undone and no one would bat an eye. It wasnt simple allowed, it was the norm.

You worked in the artistic department, where your job was to bring life to the game’s visuals—character designs, environments, and UI elements. Your desk was a cluttered haven of sketches, color palettes, and concept art pinned to the walls.

It was the kind of work you’d dreamed about during late nights in art school, but the reality was far more demanding than you’d anticipated.

Deadlines were tight, revisions were endless, and creativity didn’t always come on command. Some days, the ideas flowed effortlessly, your tablet pen gliding across the screen as you brought fantastical worlds to life. Other days, you’d stare at a blank canvas, frustration bubbling as you struggled to meet expectations.

Your first impression of Kenma Kozume came in passing, and even then, he was hard to miss.

The first time you saw him, he was slouched at a desk in the far corner of the office, hoodie pulled over his head, fingers flying across his laptop keyboard. He didn’t look up once, even as people moved around him, his focus unshakable.

The second time, you caught a glimpse of him in the break room. He stood by the coffee machine, staring blankly at the counter as it filled his mug. There was something oddly unapproachable about him, even in such a mundane moment. He had an air of detachment, like the world around him barely registered unless it directly affected him.

You’d never spoken to him, but you’d already decided he wasn’t the type to make small talk or exchange pleasantries. Still, there was something magnetic about him, something that made you wonder what went on behind those sharp, tired eyes.

You had learned that prior to you , Kenma was never really in the office , he was still a streamer more than a CEO , after all this game developement project is only possible thanks to his succesful gaming career. However recently , once he saw how sucessful his idea got , he was now more present in the office and hired more people , you included.

“Hey, Y/N!”

A bright, cheerful voice cut through your spiraling thoughts. You looked up to see Kaori, her vibrant pink hair catching the fluorescent light as she leaned against your desk. Her wide grin and colorful appearance were like a splash of sunshine in the otherwise neutral-toned office.

“Hey,” she said, tilting her head. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You blinked, the metaphor hitting a little too close to home. “That’s… not far off,” you admitted, gesturing to your screen. “I have to work with Kozume-san. On his project.”

Kaori let out a low whistle, plopping into the chair beside you. “Oof, that’s a big one. But hey, you’re amazing at what you do. You’ll be fine.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. “What if I mess up? He’s… him. He’s probably going to hate everything I do.” you bury you hand into the palm of you hands

“What if—”

“Nope.” Kaori held up a hand, cutting you off. “No ‘what ifs.’ You’re going to go in there, show him what you’ve got, and if he doesn’t like it, that’s his problem. Not yours.”

You couldn’t help but crack a small smile at her unwavering energy. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is easy,” she said with a wink. “Just think of him as a moody NPC. He might be hard to impress, but you’ve got the skills to win him over.

That made you laugh, the tension in your chest loosening just a bit. “Thanks, Kaori. I needed that.”

“Anytime,” she said, standing up and flipping her hair dramatically over her shoulder. “Now, go slay that boss battle. You’re the main character, after all.”

As she walked back to her desk, her bright presence lingering in the air, you took a deep breath. Maybe Kaori was right. You could do this. You just had to believe it yourself.

You checked your schedule, hoping—praying—that there had been some kind of mistake. But there it was, glaring at you in bold letters:

Meeting with Kozume-san | 2:00 PM | Conference Room 3

Your stomach sank. It wasn’t just a casual check-in; you were expected to present your ideas.

You glanced at your tablet, where the rough sketches and concept notes for the project stared back at you. The game was a platformer with a futuristic theme, but Kenma had insisted on “keeping it simple.” That vague direction had left you stuck between creating something bold and eye-catching or playing it safe with minimalist designs.

The game you were working on was set in a post-apocalyptic cyberpunk world, a crumbling cityscape where neon lights flickered through the smog and towering skyscrapers were half-collapsed, their skeletal remains a testament to a world long past its prime. The streets were flooded with a mix of broken technology and rusted machinery, the last remnants of a once-thriving society. With game mecanics similar to The Last Of Us , the players would collects ressources and try to survive in groups.

Your characters were survivors—scrappy, resourceful, and filled with the grit needed to navigate this decaying world. You’d designed them to be mismatched, each with their own story written into their attire, their scars, their expressions. The environments were dark, gritty, and filled with the hum of malfunctioning tech, but you’d infused them with moments of color—neon signs, glowing graffiti, the occasional flicker of hope in the bleakness.

But now, staring at your designs, the doubt began to creep in. Was it too much? Kenma was known for his minimalist approach, and here you were, drowning in the chaos of color and detail. Would he see your vision as too loud, too cluttered for the world he had in mind?

The clock was ticking. You had less than a couple hours before the meeting.

You were so absorbed in tweaking the final details of your designs that you didn’t notice Kaori approaching your desk. Without a word, she set a takeout bag down in front of you with a soft thud, the scent of warm food wafting through the air. A thumbs-up and a smirk was the only indication she’d left before she walked away,

With a quiet exhale and a smile, you grabbed the food, letting yourself step away from the screen. For a few minutes, you allowed yourself to just eat, to breathe, to let the chaos of your thoughts settle.

————————————————————————

You stood in front of the conference room door, your heart pounding in your chest. The cold metal of the doorknob felt like a weight in your hand

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, but your hands were shaking. The designs you’d worked so hard on, the ones that felt like your heart and soul poured onto the screen, suddenly felt like they weren’t enough. What if Kenma didn’t get it? What if he didn’t like it?

You glanced down at your phone, checking the time. Five minutes. Just five minutes until you have to go in.

You reached for the doorknob, your fingers trembling slightly, but before you could turn it, the door suddenly swung open, and you stumbled back in surprise.

Kenma Kozume stood there, but he wasn’t alone. A sleek, black cat perched casually on his shoulder, its golden eyes eerily similar to his own.

His light blonde hair, slightly messy and falling over his forehead, gave him a perpetually disheveled look. He didn’t seem to care much about appearances, as his hoodie—gray and a bit oversized—hung loosely on his frame, paired with comfortable, worn-in jeans.

The cat let out a soft meow, and Kenma, unfazed, gave it a quick scratch under the chin before glancing at you. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was a faint flicker of curiosity in his gaze.

“You’re early,” he said simply, stepping aside to let you in.

Your eyes darted between him and the cat, trying to process what you were seeing.

Waaa the cat looks exactly like him!

You hadn’t pegged him as the type to bring a pet—let alone one so comfortably perched on his shoulder—to a meeting.

As you hesitated, the cat jumped down gracefully, landing on the conference table with a soft thud. It padded across the surface, tail flicking, before curling up near the laptop that was clearly set up for the presentation.

Kenma sat down without a word, as if this was all completely normal, and started typing on his laptop.

“You can start whenever,” he said, not looking up

Snapping out of your daze, you stepped inside, carefully closing the door behind you. The cat’s gaze followed you as you moved toward the table, its tail swishing lazily.

Your tablet felt heavier in your hands as you set it down, your designs still vivid on the screen. You glanced at Kenma, but his focus remained fixed on his laptop.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the faint clicking of keys. You cleared your throat softly, hoping to signal that you were ready to start, but the sound barely registered.

Instead, it was the cat that took action. It stood, padded over to your tablet, and plopped down directly on top of it, effectively blocking your work from view.

Your eyes widened, and you froze, unsure of what to do. “Um…”

Kenma finally looked up, his gaze shifting between you and the cat. For a moment, you thought you saw the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.

“Pudding,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. The cat flicked its tail but didn’t move.

“Pudding?” you replied before you could stop yourself.

Kenma leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “That’s her name. She likes warm surfaces. Just move her.”

You hesitated, not wanting to offend the feline—or its owner. Tentatively, you reached out, sliding your hands under the cat’s small frame. Pudding meowed in protest but allowed herself to be relocated to the edge of the table.

As soon as your tablet was clear, you turned it on and opened your designs. The glowing images of the post-apocalyptic cyberpunk world filled the screen, casting faint neon reflections onto the polished table.

Kenma leaned forward slightly, his attention finally shifting to your work. His golden eyes narrowed as he studied the sketches, the lines of his face giving nothing away.

Your heart raced as the silence stretched on, every second feeling like an eternity. You wanted to explain, to justify your choices, but the words caught in your throat.

Finally, Kenma spoke, his voice quiet but deliberate. “Why did you choose this color palette?”

The question was simple, but it carried weight. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“I wanted to balance the desolation of the setting with moments of vibrancy,” you said, your voice steadier than you expected. “The neon lights and glowing elements are meant to represent remnants of the old world—hope, even in destruction.”

Kenma didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking between the tablet and you. Then, without a word, he reached out and swiped to the next image.

The room fell silent again, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle as Pudding shifted on the table.

You watched as Kenma swiped through your designs, his expression neutral. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, before you began to explain your characters.

“These characters are survivors,” you said, gesturing to the designs on the tablet. “Each one has their own backstory, their own way of navigating this broken world. I wanted them to stand out in contrast to the bleak environment—each piece of their clothing, their scars, their accessories, all tell a story of where they’ve been and what they’ve had to survive.”

Kenma’s eyes flicked over the characters, his gaze flickering between the vibrant details of their outfits and the muted tones of the world around them. He didn’t seem to react at first, but then he spoke, his voice calm and direct.

“They’re too flashy for side characters,” he said, his tone flat but cutting. “If they’re meant to be secondary, the design needs to be more subtle. The world you’ve created is chaotic, but the characters should blend into it, not dominate it.”

You felt a sharp pang in your chest at his words. You had poured so much into these characters, wanting them to feel real, to feel alive in a world that had been stripped of so much.

“You’ve got a strong concept,” he said, his tone softer now. “Just need to refine the details.”

You nodded, trying to absorb his feedback. It wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but it was something you could work with.

The room felt quieter now, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of his criticism, but you also knew that this was the process.

You had to adapt.

Taking a deep breath, you swiped to the next character design, one of the more subdued ones. “I understand what you mean,” you said, your voice more composed now. “Maybe I went a little overboard. But these characters, they’ve lived through so much. I wanted them to feel like they’ve earned their place in this world.”

Kenma didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached forward, swiping through the designs once more, his eyes scanning them critically. Pudding, who had been lounging on the table, lazily swatted at the edge of the tablet, causing the screen to flicker slightly.

Kenma glanced at the cat, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “Pudding,” he muttered, gently pushing her paw away from the screen. Then, with a sigh, he turned back to you.

“You’re not wrong,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. “The characters do need to feel like they’ve earned their place. But if they’re secondary, they shouldn’t demand attention. The focus needs to be on the world. The players need to feel like they’re in the world, not just looking at it.”

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. The idea was starting to click, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept.

“I’ll adjust the designs,” you said, determination creeping back into your voice. “I’ll make them blend into the world more, but still keep their individuality. They need to feel like they belong, but also like they’ve got something to prove.”

Kenma nodded, his eyes flicking to the screen one last time before he stood up. “Good. That’s what I want to see. Take your time with it. The meeting’s over for now.”

your mind already racing with ideas for revisions. As you gathered your things, Pudding meowed again, hopping onto your lap before you could get up.

You blinked, surprised, but couldn’t help but chuckle.

Kenma gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod. “She likes you.”

You smiled faintly, the tension in your chest easing slightly. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as you’d thought. You still had a lot of work to do, but now you had a clearer direction.

As you walked out of the room, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. You had the feedback you needed. Now it was up to you to turn it into something even better.

You stepped out of the conference room, still processing Kenma’s feedback. The weight of the revisions hung over you, but you were determined to prove him wrong, to make the changes and show him you could do it.

As you made your way down the hallway, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out, it was an email from Kenma.

You paused, fingers hovering over the screen. Why would he email me?

You opened the message, your eyes scanning the short, direct note:

I want to see the updated designs by tomorrow. Come to my office at 5 PM.

Your heart skipped a beat.

His office? Tomorrow ? you didnt have much time…

Before you could process it, someone called your name from behind. You turned, only to find Kenma standing at the end of the hallway, his expression unreadable.

He was looking directly at you, his eyes piercing through the distance.

“Don’t be late,” he said, his voice low, and then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

You stood frozen, the weight of the email and his words sinking in. What was this really about?

[b1nniecat]

🎶 counterpoint 🎶

chapter I: dissonance.

pairing: college!au park wonbin x fem!reader

content warnings: swearing, reader smokes 🚬

wc: 2.7k

masterlist | prev | next

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡

The soft glow of Wonbin’s phone screen illuminated his face as he lay sprawled across his bed, one arm tucked under his head and the other holding his phone aloft. The faint hum of a playlist he wasn’t really listening to filled the quiet of his dorm room.

His group chat had been buzzing all evening, the notifications piling up faster than he could read them.

Wonbin smirked faintly, his thumb scrolling through the messages. The banter felt warm—familiar, like home.

His smirk faded as he felt his stomach twist at the sudden change in direction. His thumb hovered over the keyboard. He could feel their concern through the screen, but the knot in his chest tightened instead of loosening.

What was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t stop overanalyzing every conversation they’d ever had? That he’d read through their old messages trying so hard to find where it all changed? That he still heard her voice echoing in his head, replaying that “it’s not you, it’s me” line over and over?

He reluctantly typed out a response.

He locked his phone and tossed it onto the mattress beside him. The light from the screen faded, leaving him alone with the faint glow of his desk lamp and the ache behind his eyes.

The silence in the room pressed down on him like a heavy blanket, suffocating and restless all at once. He sat up abruptly, grabbing his guitar from where it leaned against his desk.

The wood felt familiar under his fingertips as he rested it against his chest, letting his thumb skim over the strings. No particular song came to mind, just fragmented chords and half-melodies stitched together by muscle memory.

His thoughts spiraled, uninvited and relentless.

How long had it been since he’d had a good night’s sleep? Since he’d gone to bed without the weight of doubt sitting heavy on his chest? The same questions replayed over and over in his mind, tangled threads of insecurity he couldn’t untie.

Was I too quiet? Too boring? Did she stop loving me because I wasn’t enough?

The dim glow of his desk lamp painted his shadow across the wall, and somewhere outside, the faint sound of a car passing by cut through the stillness. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the soft hum of the city, but it didn’t help.

His thumb stilled over the strings as his ex’s words echoed again in his head.

“I’m just… not interested anymore, sorry Bin. It’s really not you, it’s me.”

It had been weeks since that call, but her voice still clung to him like a bruise that refused to fade. The tired detachment, the way she’d sounded so far away even though she was right there on the other end of the line.

But then there was that post. That damned post.

A picture of a bouquet—roses, bright and vibrant, tied together with a satin ribbon. “My fav flowers from my fav one ❤️”

She’d told him she hated roses.

Had she lied about that, too? Or was it him? Was he the one she couldn’t love—not fully, not in the way he thought she did?

His fingers stilled on the strings, the sound of the final chord hanging in the stale dorm room air before dissolving into silence.

Somewhere along the way, time had slipped from his grasp. He had played, then stopped. Then played again. His guitar now sat silent on his lap, his mind still restless despite the ache in his eyes.

When he glanced back at his phone, the screen glared at him with the time.

4:12 AM.

“Shit.”

He set his guitar aside and leaned back against the headboard, tilting his head toward the ceiling with a heavy sigh.

The faint hum of the city outside his window filled the silence. Wonbin let his head fall into his hands, exhaustion creeping into every corner of his body.

But sleep didn’t come.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

The campus music room was drenched in pale morning light, golden beams pooling across the scratched wooden floor. Dust motes danced in the quiet air, accompanied by the faint hum of fluorescent lights. The faint smell of stale coffee and worn-out sheet music clung stubbornly to the walls.

Lina was the first to arrive, predictably so. Her laptop was already open, an array of highlighters and sticky notes spread out in a neat halo around her workspace. She tapped a rhythm on her desk with her pen, her face a picture of quiet determination.

“Morning, Eunseok!” she chirped when the door creaked open.

Eunseok strolled in, iced coffee in hand, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His composure was loose, unhurried, carrying the kind of casual energy that made it seem like he’d just rolled out of bed but was somehow still effortlessly put together.

“Morning, Lina. Early as always, huh?” He grinned.

“Someone has to keep us on track,” she quipped.

The door opened again not long after, and Wonbin walked in, his guitar case slung heavily over one shoulder. He looked… worn out. Shadows bruised the skin under his eyes, and his hair stuck out slightly in odd angles. He dropped his bag beside a chair and slumped into it without a word.

“Good morning, Wonbin!” Lina said brightly, her voice dipping slightly when he only offered a faint nod in return.

Eunseok’s gaze lingered on Wonbin briefly, his brow furrowing ever so slightly before he turned back to his drink.

A couple minutes passed before the final arrival came with a gust of cool air. Y/N stumbled in, appearance seemingly disheveled. A coffee cup was clutched tightly in one hand, her tote bag slipping precariously off one shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry—I couldn’t find my keys,” she muttered, sliding into the seat directly across from Wonbin.

For a brief second, their eyes met across the table—her tentative, his guarded. Wonbin’s gaze flicked away almost immediately.

“Right on time,” he muttered under his breath.

The words weren’t loud, but they sliced through the soft stillness of the room like a shard of glass.

Y/N paused mid-motion, her coffee cup hovering an inch above the table. Her lips parted slightly before curving into a tight smile. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

Eunseok’s gaze flicked cautiously between the two, a faint crease forming between his brows. Lina straightened in her seat, her eyes darting nervously toward her laptop.

“Okay!” Lina began, her voice overly bright, trying to steer the tension elsewhere. “Let’s get started, yeah? I thought we could begin with some theme ideas and maybe divide and assign tasks. We have a month, so if we pace ourselves, this should go pretty smoothly.”

The others nodded mutely, and for a while, the meeting seemed functional. Lina set the structure, Eunseok threw in occasional light-hearted jokes to cut the tension, and Y/N quietly jotted down notes while offering occasional suggestions.

But every interaction between Y/N and Wonbin felt like walking on shattered glass. Sharp. Unsteady. And always threatening to cut too deep.

“I was thinking we could build the song structure around a softer acoustic verse before leading into a stronger instrumental chorus—kind of like a gradual climb,” Y/N suggested, her voice steady despite the way her fingers fiddled with the corner of her notebook.

Wonbin didn’t look up from the strings of his guitar. “That’s basic. Everyone does that.”

Y/N froze for half a second, her fingers stilling against the paper. “Right. God forbid we sound like everyone else.”

The silence that followed was dense, heavy, filled only with the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights.

Eunseok cleared his throat lightly, trying to defuse the moment. “Actually, that’s a pretty common but effective structure. We could tweak it to make it stand out more.”

Y/N shot him a small, grateful smile before glancing down at her notes again. She pushed forward, her voice softer now. “Or—if you’d prefer—we could start with a stripped-down hook and—”

Wonbin cut her off again, his tone flat. “Or we could just keep it simple. No need to overcomplicate something that should feel natural.”

Y/N blinked at him, her lips pressing into a thin line as she set her pen down. “Right. Wouldn’t want to overwork your natural genius.”

Wonbin’s gaze snapped up to meet hers, sharp and unyielding. “At least I showed up on time.”

The words landed with a dull, heavy thud in the space between them.

The scrape of Y/N’s chair against the floor felt deafening in the ensuing silence as she leaned back slightly, her arms crossing over her chest. Her laugh was humorless, sharp. “Wow. Okay.”

Eunseok shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting toward Lina, who looked frozen behind her laptop screen.

For a few painfully long seconds, no one spoke. The clock on the wall ticked louder, and somewhere faintly outside, the distant sound of someone practicing piano echoed down the hall.

Lina cleared her throat, her voice cracking slightly as she forced a smile. “Okay! Um… maybe we should take a quick break. Ten minutes? Grab some air, refill your drinks—we’ll come back fresh.”

Y/N stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. She clutched her coffee cup so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“I’ll— I’m gonna step out for a second,” she said, her voice tight and trembling slightly at the edges. Wonbin’s eyes flickered to the pack of cigarettes she pulled out from her bag before she exited, making him scoff.

No one stopped her as she walked out, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

The brick wall felt cold against Y/N’s back as she leaned against it, her head tilted upward toward the pale sky. Her cigarette trembled slightly between her fingers as she brought it to her lips, inhaling deeply. The smoke curled in delicate spirals as she exhaled, sharp and slow.

Her chest felt tight. Not with anger, not entirely. It was something messier—something sharp-edged and bitter, lodged in her throat.

Through the cracked window, faint voices filtered out.

“Funny how the assigned vocalist is out smoking…” Wonbin’s voice drifted through, low and sharp.

“Wonbin.” Eunseok’s voice cut in, firm. “Enough.”

Y/N’s shoulders slumped slightly. Her cigarette burned down quicker than usual, glowing bright orange before she let it fall to the ground and crushed it under her heel.

The air in the music room felt heavier now that Y/N had left. Lina busied herself with her laptop, tapping her fingers against the keys a little too forcefully as if trying to drown out the silence. Wonbin remained rooted in his chair, eyes glued to the worn edge of his guitar case.

Eunseok, leaning casually against the table with his arms crossed, studied him for a moment before breaking the silence.

“You know…” Eunseok’s voice was low but steady, carrying the weight of unspoken words. “You don’t have to act like that with her.”

Wonbin’s eyes flicked up briefly before dropping back down. “Act like what?”

Eunseok let out a soft snort. “Like… that. All sharp edges and cold shoulders. What did she even do to piss you off this much? Be two minutes late?”

“Yeah, you were being kinda.. sassy.” Lina hesitantly pitched in, “I thought she had pretty good ideas, actually.”

Wonbin’s jaw twitched. He didn’t respond. Lina cleared her throat awkwardly before minding her own business again.

Eunseok sighed, pushing himself off the table and pulling up a chair beside Wonbin. He sat down backward, his arms resting on the backrest. “Look, man. I get it. You’ve been in your head lately, and… yeah, you’re not exactly yourself. But she didn’t deserve that. Especially for a first impression.”

Wonbin finally looked up, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or exhaustion. “I know.”

The confession hung in the air for a beat too long before he continued, his voice quieter this time. “It’s not about her.”

Eunseok raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Could’ve fooled me.”

Wonbin exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His voice trembled slightly at the edges, a crack in the otherwise carefully maintained facade. “I just— I can’t deal with someone acting all carefree and… and casual about this project. This is important to me, Eunseok. I can’t—”

“Is that really it, though?” Eunseok cut in, his voice softer now, his expression gentler. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been carrying a whole lot of baggage, and you just let her take the hit for it.”

Wonbin froze. The silence between them stretched taut, a thread pulled to its breaking point.

Eunseok leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady. “You know, you’re not the only one who cares about this project. And she’s not your ex.”

The words landed heavily. Wonbin flinched slightly, his hand tightening around the strap of his guitar case.

“I know,” he said again, softer this time, almost like he was admitting it to himself more than to Eunseok.

The faint sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway outside, signaling Y/N’s return. Lina glanced up, her eyes darting between the two boys.

“Okay,” Eunseok said, his voice lightening deliberately as he pushed himself out of his chair. “Fresh start, yeah? Try not to bite anyone’s head off this time.”

Wonbin didn’t respond, but he gave a faint nod, his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor.

The door creaked open as Y/N stepped back into the room, her shoulders squared and her face carefully neutral.

“Ready to keep going?” Lina asked, her voice hesitant.

Y/N nodded, her voice even but quiet. “Yeah. Let’s finish this.”

The group returned to their work, but the tension lingered—a thin, invisible thread stretched across the room. Wonbin kept his head down, his focus firmly on his guitar, but every now and then, his eyes would flicker briefly toward Y/N, who was focused on her notes with an intensity that felt almost forced.

After a solid 30 minutes of pure work, Lina glanced at the clock on her laptop and sighed, her smile small but relieved. “Alright, I think that’s a good place to wrap up for today. Let’s figure out another time to meet up this week, yeah?””

Eunseok stretched his arms over his head with a groan. “Thank god. My brain was starting to overheat.”

There was a shuffle of papers and the zip of bags being closed. Lina stacked her color-coded notes neatly, Eunseok gathered his empty coffee cup and headphones, and Y/N quietly tucked her notebook into her bag.

The room was filled with the sound of faint scraping chairs and the hum of distant activity from the hallway. In the middle of the slow packing chaos, Y/N hummed softly under her breath—a faint, bittersweet melody, barely audible but achingly tender in its simplicity.

It wasn’t intentional. Her voice carried in that quiet, absentminded way someone hums when their mind is elsewhere, their guard lowered for just a fleeting moment.

Wonbin froze mid-motion as he was adjusting the strap of his guitar case. His head turned slightly in her direction, his brow furrowing as if he recognized something in the tune—or maybe just in the way she carried it.

For a second, it seemed like he was about to say something. His lips parted slightly, his gaze lingering on her profile as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

But the moment passed.

Instead, Wonbin closed his mouth, swallowed whatever words had risen to the surface, and turned his focus back to securing the latch on his guitar case.

Y/N glanced up briefly, catching the faintest flicker of something in his expression—hesitation, maybe regret—but it was gone before she could place it.

“See you tomorrow,” Lina said brightly, shouldering her bag and making her way to the door. Eunseok followed close behind, flashing Y/N a small, reassuring smile on his way out.

Y/N lingered for a moment longer. Her gaze flickered back to Wonbin, her lips pressing together like she was debating whether or not to say something.

But he was already turned away, his focus squarely on his bag.

With a small sigh, Y/N slung her tote bag over her shoulder and walked out, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

Wonbin’s fingers hovered briefly over the strap of his guitar case before curling into a loose fist.

The faint remnants of her melody still echoed softly in his ears.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡

masterlist | prev | next

[abiiors]

Naps

Matty Healy Drabble

A/N: I was only listening to Sufjan Stevens while writing this because I need this to be the softest thing you’ve read today, okay? I just do!

This was based on an ask! (My requests are open)

The clacking of your keyboard mixes with the blaring song in your ears as you finish firing off your last email for the day. Shutting your laptop with satisfaction, you get up and crack your back.

You’re fortunate enough to be making a decent pay out of working freelance. Meaning you can practically work out of anywhere that has a stable internet connection and that includes the 1975 tour bus. 

A small string of curses catches your attention and you instantly recognise Matty’s voice. You haven’t seen him all day, and now he’s back on the bus. You pick up your laptop and make your way to him.

He looks thoroughly harassed as he tries to wrestle the guitar back into its case. His eyes are practically shutting on their own and his shoulders look all soft and droopy.

‘What’s up with you?’ you ask as you walk up behind him. 

‘Oh, hey,’ he tries to smile but it just turns into a grimace. ‘Just got a bit of a headache. Are you done for the day?’

‘Yea, just.’ You set the laptop aside and push his wild hair out of his eyes, ‘have you been overworking yourself?’

The quiet look he gives is enough to implicate him. He has been working extra hard, you both know it. But reprimanding is not what he needs right now. You touch his stubbly cheek with one hand and he leans into it, closing his eyes blissfully.

‘Come on,’ you instruct gently. He lets you grab his hand and lead him to your little cabin without question. ‘When was the last time you slept?’

‘Um, dunno,’ he mumbles. ‘I have been awake since 5, I think.’

You wince at this. 5 is truly an ungodly hour to wake up at.  

He slumps onto the small bed and heaves a big sigh. The bags under his eyes are more pronounced than they have been in the last week. His long eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones as he struggles to stay awake. You take a step closer to him and run your hands through his hair. His arms come up around your waist and he gently tugs toward him so that you’re standing between his legs. Then he rests his head on your stomach and holds onto you tightly. 

‘Let’s take a nap, okay?’ you whisper.

‘Mm-hmm.’

‘You’re gonna have to lay down for that.’

‘Mm-hmm,’ he’s still nodding on your stomach but he makes no move to detach himself from you. 

He’s just so soft and needy right now; it’s all very adorable. You can’t help it as you pepper a few kisses on his forehead, his closed eyes. His mouth blooms into a tiny smile at that. 

After much cajoling, he takes his shoes off and buries himself under the blankets. That leaves you with just enough space to snuggle in. As soon as you are settled in the bed, he’s back at it again. 

His arm is around your waist, his face tucked into the crook of your neck. His breath tickles a bit but you continue combing your fingers through his hair. It doesn’t even take two minutes before his breathing evens out and you start to hear soft snores. 

For good measure, you press another kiss onto his forehead. He is so warm and soft, so comforting and lovely that it doesn’t take long before you feel yourself being lulled to sleep. 

‘I love you,’ you whisper to him just as you’re about to fall asleep. 

There’s no way he can hear you right now, let alone respond but you swear you feel his arms tighten around your waist. 

[hannie-dul-set]

sins of lust [yoon jeonghan]

“lust /ləst/ — the mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the spirit is life and peace - romans 8:6″

LUCKY 7′S MASTERLIST

PAIRING | yoon jeonghan x female! reader GENRE | college! au, borderline smut, angst WARNINGS | nsfw themes obviously lmao but no actual doing the dirty because i can’t write smut for shit, swearing, jeonghan is the literal devil WORD COUNT | 4.5k

a/n: I’M SO VERY SORRY THATTHIS IS SUPER LATE ; - ; but anyways!! this is my last piece for our luck 7′s collab with @haokyeom​ :D this was,, very out of my comfort zone but i still do hope that you enjoy :’>

Your mother had always told you to never trust strangers.

“They’re like foxes,” your mother had once said as the both of you gazed through the window of your small cabin beside the thick walls of trees in the woods. Her hands rested gently over your small shoulders, and you two eyes the coat of orange fur speeding through the outside, a familiar stuffed animal hanging limply by its mouth. You had accidentally left it outside while you were playing.

You frowned upon seeing the animal disappear into the trees, and even at your young age, you knew that it was lost forever.

“They take what they can without a hint of remorse. You wouldn’t even know until you see them running away,” you looked up at your mother who stared into the distance with eyes stained in sadness. You turned around, hugging her waist and burying your face into her stomach, and she released a laugh as she patted your head. “My Y/N’s a smart girl, right? Never forget mommy’s words, okay?”

And you did. For eighteen years, you had lived with only the company of your mother, your homeschool teachers, and your precious cat, Salem. There were times when your grandparents would visit, usually during the holidays, but you weren’t exactly close with them (they didn’t seem to like you, either). It was only when you had finally entered college when you were given the chance to actually mingle with other people, especially people that were your age, and it was the first time that you had left to live on your own outside of your homey cottage beside the woods.

Initially, your mother was against the idea of you living in your campus’ dorms, especially the fact that you had to live with another person that you knew nothing of. You weren’t keen on the thought either, but it was far more reasonable than commuting every single day to the city all the way from the middle of nowhere.

At least your roommate was never around.

‘Staying over at Johnny’s xx,’ you sighed upon seeing the text message, and you stepped forward in the light when the person before you did as well. It was only the third week of the semester and you were already wishing for things to go back as they were.

A part of it was your fault for being socially inept, generally avoiding people and not even talking to anybody unless talked to. Your mother’s words rang into your head every single time, and naturally you had built up a wall. This wall was what made you feel comfortable, made you feel safe— you don’t trust anyone here, and it would be better to finish your studies without getting personally tangled with other people.

“Hi! What can I get you?”

Though, there were indeed times where you wished that you were at the very least not so awkward.

“A regular americano,” it took you so much strength to squeeze that out of our esophagus, relieving the tightened airway with a breath of relief when the barista nodded at your order and jotted it down. Hurriedly, you went to sit at an empty table, your racing heart making you move quicker than necessary. God, you wondered how many more trips to campus cafe would it take until you finally got the courage to order without feeling you were being held at gunpoint.

You huffed, squeezing your eyes shut. At least you didn’t stutter today, so that’s improvement.

Stop deluding yourself, Y/N. You’re still—

“Whoa. Careful, now.”

A thud. The feeling of warmth fluttering over your shoulders. An unfamiliar sweet voice seeping into your ears. And you looked up.

“Are you okay?”

His steady grip had left your shoulders but the traces of his warmth were still buzzing over your clothed skin like mini fireworks erupting when he made contact, and when you met his concerned eyes, it felt like you were about to reach the climax of the light show. He didn’t say anything, only waiting for the confirmation to fall from your lips with a worried look on his face. Your heart was still racing, but it was in a completely different rhythm. 

You had once felt your heart threatening to bounce off of your chest out of fear, and at times due to excitement. Your pulse rising due to nervousness was already like an unwanted friend to you.

But this.

What is this?

“Miss?”

“I, uh—” the man shot you a smile that was devoid of any malice despite you being a stuttering and mess that was frozen in place. Heat rushed to your cheeks while you were trapped underneath his gaze. You wanted to move but it felt like your mind was completely detached from your body, soaring above your head because you can't seem to grab a hold of it. But with enough willpower, you managed to squeak out a small “sorry’ before shuffling away to the farthest seat possible with your head down.

When you sat yourself on the seat, the first thing you did was look up to the direction of the male, only to see an empty space. You bit down your lip, hastily taking out your laptop from your bag and just move on from what happened, but the racing of your heartbeat refused to let it go. Was this… normal? You let out a choked groan, removing your hands from the keyboard to bury your heated face into your palms. There were times where you hated that you were so sheltered, and this was one of them.

If only your mother wasn’t so protective of you, if only she let you live a normal life, if only—

Your phone started buzzing.

Slowly, you sat up and took out your phone from your jean pocket, and the pace of your heart was slowed down by a surge of guilt.

‘How were classes today, honey? I hope you drank enough water today. Even when I’m around, you always seem to forget. The weekend is just around the corner. Are you coming home?’

You smiled. Of course, your mother had only wanted what’s best for you. Finally relaxing your muscles, you adjusted your position on the chair and silently tapped on our phone.

‘Classes were fine, mom. And that was before! I’ve been drinking a loooot of water, you know? Do you want me to…’

The next day had come. You quietly entered the near barren classroom, the early morning rays leaking through the open glass windows on the wall. You liked this class mainly because not a  lot of people are enrolled in it— even if it meant sacrificing a few more hours of your sleep. The less people to deal with the better.

I’ll just take a nap later after lunch. You thought to yourself as you let out yawn, your palm hovering over your mouth as you did. You arrived a little earlier than usual, so there was still an ample amount of time to review for a test for a different class before your professor arrived. You recalled your conversation with your mother yesterday, and you were slightly disheartened when you told her that you couldn’t come home for the weekend because you had a lot of things to finish that required you to be on campus. Even if you wanted to go, you couldn’t risk lagging behind your work.

A few more people entered your peripheral as you were scanning your notes, and you took this as a signal to put it away. You pulled your bag over your lap and tucked in your notes neatly before pulling out your laptop. More people started flooding and you noticed that the seat beside you was now occupied.

“You seem fine today.”

You jolted, the familiar voice entering your ears causing the veins underneath your skin to start buzzing. The moment you turned your head to your side, you were met by a small smile from the man that you bumped into yesterday. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I-it’s fine.”

Has he always been in this class? You’ve never seen him here until now. Then again, you didn’t really pay attention to the faces around you. The gap between your chairs seemed a little too close for your sanity, so you scooted a bit farther to the left.

“Are you feeling alright now?” his voice caused you to abruptly freeze as you tried to discreetly move your chair without being exposed, and you bit down your tongue. As if he noticed the sudden distance between you two, he thoughtlessly moved his chair closer. “You didn’t look too well yesterday considering how dazed you were.”

Why was he talking to you? A lot of people did try to befriend you during the first few days, but it gradually stopped upon them seeing how dismissive you were. “O-oh, I’m fine, uh— sorry for bumping into you,” he had his elbow propped on the table, his cheek resting on his palm as faced you, a seemingly permanent smile on his face that you’ve been desperately trying (and failing) to avoid. Maybe isolating yourself from the rest of the world dulled down your ability to perceive normal human emotions like the stuttering of your heart was trying to tell you.

Jesus, you thought that you were going crazy.

“That’s good to hear,” he hummed, turning his attention to the laptop screen before him. “My name’s Jeonghan, by the way.”

Jeonghan. You repeated in your head. Why did finding out his damned name feel like 200 pounds of gratification? Maybe you were really going insane. He cocked his head to your direction, the curve of his lips that never disappeared aiming directly at you, but they did not part to say anything. Jeonghan looked like he was waiting for you, which caused you to intermittently panic because why in the world was he just staring at you like that?

“It’s not fair that I gave you my name but I don’t know yours.”

Oh.

“Y/N,” your cheeks flared as you spoke, diverting your eyes from him out of embarrassment. “It’s Y/N.”

He released a light laugh before nodding in affirmation, and you swore your heart was trying to run away from you in condonation. It felt like hours had passed it between the seconds of your small exchanges, causing you to wonder when your professor was going to enter and distract you from the fervent blows on your ribcage.

It didn’t seem like your professor was arriving any time soon— the guy was always late so you weren’t even remotely surprised but for the love of god, he could’ve made an exemption today. Your eyes flickered over to Jeonghan’s space on the long table, and you saw him scribbling indecipherable doodles on what was once a blank sheet. You bit the inside of your cheek, debating with yourself over and over again until one side of your mind finally overtook your senses and sensibilities.

You jumped into the ocean when you’ve never even stepped into a lake.

“I—I never noticed that you were in this class until today.”

It took a lot from you to say that one simple sentence, the words barely squeezing past your throat, and you realized just how pathetic you were. Luckily for you, Jeonghan didn’t seem to mind the lapses in your voice, the diversion of your eyes, or the way your fingers nervously thrummed over the white coated desk. Even if he did, he didn’t say anything about it, only sending that angelic smile on your way.

“Really? I’ve noticed you since the first day,” he started. “To be frank, I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now, but you always looked like you didn’t want to be bothered.”

“You— you wanted to talk to me? Why?” 

He shrugged. “You seemed cute,” there was a slight pause before he continued. “And I was right.”

You blinked, gawking at him. Jeonghan was saying such— such unprovoked things without a hint of shame while your face was flaring like it just made contact with the sun. In the middle of you trying to recover, your professor had finally decided to walk in, capturing the attention of Jeonghan and everyone else inside the class. You released a breath that you didn’t know that you were holding and lightly tapped both of your cheeks in attempts to lower your ever rising temperature. You caught the male beside you laughing a little, and when you slightly turned your head to face him, you were struck defenseless with a playful wink.

It was quiet for the rest of the class, but you couldn’t focus. Not when your mind was making a lot of noise, not when your heart was about to explode inside your chest.

And definitely not when the pretty boy beside you kept on shooting you glances in between. 

“Do you like movies?”

Jeonghan asked the moment he sat down beside you, and your brows raised at his sudden question. It had been a week since your first encounter with him, and within those few days, you’ve been seeing more and more of him. You weren’t sure if it was a coincidence or if he’d been deliberately trying to squeeze himself into your life.

But what did you know? Nothing. That’s why you let him.

“I do,” you answered, a small smile tugging at your lips. You remembered the times when you and your mother would watch countless movies in just a single day when you were feeling sad. You couldn’t leave the house easily, and when you did it was nothing but forest, forest, and more forest. Sometimes you were lucky to come across a wild hare, or sometimes even a small deer. Which reminds you— it’s been a while since you’ve gone home. You took a mental note to schedule some time for you to go back there.

Your curious eyes flickered over to Jeonghan. “Why?”

“There’s a film festival this weekend,” he leaned back against his chair, legs crossed and arms swinging lazily at his sides until he raised one hand to your face, a finger poking your cheek. “And I’m taking this pretty girl with me.”

“What?”

You gaped, dumbstruck. His lips were pressed into a brazen smile as his eyes were gleaming at you while you were still frozen in shock. He didn’t even ask you— did he think that you were just going to go with whatever he’s saying that easily?

“I—I haven’t agreed to anything!” you rebuked with a quick stammer, which caused a frown to replace the previous smile on Jeonghan’s face.

“But I thought you said you liked movies,” he sat down straight, the legs of his chair making a noise upon meeting the floor. The unabashed pout on his face, accompanied by the confused furrowing of his eyebrows, soon dissipated from his features when he let out a sudden gasp. “Wait, are you saying you don’t want to go with me?”

“I-it’s not that! I’m just—”

You couldn’t come up with any words to follow, distracted by the pained expression that Jeonghan wore. Was he just overreacting to mess with you? Was it fake? Or was he really hurt? Your ineptitude to social cues made you want to rip your hair out of your scalp. Once more, you quickly looked at him before snapping your head away, harshly biting down your lip before taking in a sharp inhale.

“Okay, fine!” Jeonghan’s face lit up, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. “I—I’ll go with you.”

You refused to look at him with how much your face was heating up, but you heard him let out a satisfied hum. It was quiet for a moment, giving u the opportunity to relax your shoulders and release your breath. Looks like the professor is late again. You dug into your bag to take out your notes, relaying yourself before class actually starts, but your actions were halted when you felt a thin, cold object pressing lightly against your arm. You looked over to see a phone, and the phone was attached to a hand, and a hand which belonged to a Yoon Jeonghan who was twinkling at you with an expectant gaze.

“Your number.”

Any moment now you swore that you were going to melt.

Within seconds, you snatched the device from his hands, rapidly smashing down the few digits, and you shoved it back to him at the speed of light. How you wanted to throw yourself out of the window, right now. A quick buzz in your pocket distracted you from your internal meltdown, and you took your own phone out, expecting a text from your mother, but instead—

‘See you on saturday, pretty girl :) hehe <3’

You shot up to meet the smug smile on Jeonghan’s face, and you bashfully looked back down at the message on your phone, feeling a smile of your own blossoming on your face.

It was late at night when you two finished.

Jeonghan insisted on bringing you home, protesting when you said that you said you could make it your way back at the movies, protesting when you said that you can walk through the campus to your dorm building alone, protesting when you said that you can head upstairs by yourself, and now when you had finally reached your floor, he stopped protesting— but he didn’t seem to how any signs of leaving just yet.

“Did you have fun?” he asked in a quiet tone. It was near midnight, and neither of you expected that the festival would go on for this long. You nodded, laughing a little, back pressed against the door leading to your room. Perhaps you were feeling a little loopy and tired from all the movies you watched, some of the scenes that stood out to you still replaying in your head.

He smiled, a few tufts of his hair shadowing over his eyes. “I’m glad.”

“I took note of a few of the films that I really liked! I’ll probably rewatch them with my mom when I get home,” you beamed, and he chuckled at your enthusiasm. “What about you?”

You almost regretted that you asked. Jeonghan was silent for a moment, a pondering look on his face as his eyes stared at the side before quickly flickering back to you. His lips were curved into a playful grin as he ever so slowly closed in on you, causing you to melt yourself into the wooden surface of your door as your heart violently thundered.

“Do you want me to be honest?” he asked in a teasing tone. His face was barely hovering over yours, and you felt your nerves screaming at you to rest your racing pulse. He didn’t do anything, though, seemingly waiting for you to respond to his question, but all you could manage was a small nod. “I wasn’t really paying attention to the movies.”

Your breath hitched and your mind was a whir. What was he doing? The waves of your senses were pulsating in an uneven rhythm, causing you to stumble over your own presence of mind as it was gradually slipping away, replaced by a haze of an uncharted storm of emotions overtaking you.

Heat was rising and you didn’t know what to do.

“I would have paid attention if it wasn’t for this pretty girl distracting me the entire time.”

“Jeonghan!”

You exclaimed, your voice being louder than expected. “I-it’s getting late. Isn’t—isn’t it time for you to go?”

There was a nervous smile on your lips as you stared up at him, eyes quivering when you tried to meet his clouded gaze. You waited for him to go, to step away from his closeness so that you’d finally have enough room to breathe, but dropped an unexpected question.

“Do you want me to go?”

The silence was deafening.

Jeonghan waited for you to say something, but the answer was something you yourself did not know. He waited until he derived the answer from your lack of response, sending you a nod and a smile before turning away. Your eyes were shaky, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in your moment of an unprecedented assault of hesitation, head filled with white noise because you couldn't think— therefore you listened to the fever stirring your restlessness.

You grabbed onto the sleeve of his coat at the last moment.

There was a glint in his eyes when he turned around, a knowing look on his face as if he had been expecting it. Swift steps and an even swifter heartbeat chased after you and once again Jeonghan was mere centimeters away from you, his warm breath igniting fire against your skin. “You could’ve just said so, pretty girl.”

He didn’t even give you the chance to breathe when he captured your unguarded mouth with his.

The air brushing against your fevered skin felt different, especially when Jeonghan was all up against you, ravishing your parted lips until you felt your senses slipping away. God, you’ve never done anything like this before and your conscience belatedly rang in your ears the moment you felt his hot tongue claiming yours as his own. You let out a faint whimper, the voice at the back of your head yelling at you that this was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. This was wrong.

You barely knew him— ten days wasn’t enough for you to know him. But you were too drunk over this foreign heat of emotion unfurling in your core to listen to your better judgement. You shouldn’t have stopped him from leaving, you shouldn’t have let him graze his teeth over your skin, let his hands roam all over your your body, let the feeling him pressed roughly against you being the only thing your dizzied mind could think of

But fuck, it felt so good.

You blindly reached for the door knob as you let Jeonghan trail wet kisses on your neck, and with a clicking of the lock, the both of you disappeared into the darkness of your room.

You said that the first was going to be the last— your mother’s words like playing a mantra in your head to bring you to the edge of guilt. But a week had passed yet that “last” never seemed to surface.

“H-hi, mom. Yeah, I—I’m fine, don;t worry. My classes just ended and—ah!”

You bit down your tongue after releasing the uninhibited noise, gulping down when you realized that Jeonghan had no intentions of stopping his ceaseless attacks from your jaw all the way down to your chest. There was fear trickling in your veins as your mother was still at the end of the line, possibly hearing the indecent sounds coming from her own daughter. You tried your best to remain quiet, but it started to become impossible when you felt Jeonghan’s teasing fingers brushing over your clit. You stared at him with wide eyes, suppressing the violent waves crashing over you, but all he did was smile at you and kiss you cheek before pressing his fingers down.

A loud gasp fell from your quivering lips.

“Mm? Shouldn't you be keeping quiet, baby?” he mumbled into your jaw before pressing a down kiss, and you let out a shaky breath. The hand that you were using to hold your phone returned to your ear, and you were welcomed by the worried voice of your mother.

“O-oh, it was just Salem! The little guy suddenly jumped— jumped on my lap,” you trailed off with a hint of nervous laughter, and you met the mischievous glint shining in Jeonghan’s eyes. He removed himself from you, causing you to close your eyes in relief and let out a sigh. “Home? Ah, I—I don’t think I can go there soon, but I’ll make sure to— oh my god.”

You were too focused on your conversation on the phone to notice that Jeonghan was now buried between your legs, nipping at your inner thighs. You slapped your hand over your lips, suppressing your moans from his bites, kisses and licks. He shot you a look of warning, and your heart stopped when you felt his hot breath hovering over your core. Quickly, you fumbled out a farewell into your phone.

"S-sorry, mom, I—I have to go—"

Another week had passed and you started to feel the consequences of your decisions crashing over you like falling debris. Jeonghan and you still met frequently, but "good morning" and "good night" texts slowly fizzled into conversations consisting only of "can I come over?" and "are you free?". It left a heavy feeling in your gut when coffee dates and movie theatres were forgotten, replaced with nights in his or your room, and suffocating scenes in his car. You couldn't help but think that maybe you should have thought things through.

But you were weak.

Today was no different.

You were buried in your bed, thick blankets covering your figure as you watched Jeonghan swiftly pull a shirt over his head. He had an evening class after this and you couldn't blame him that he was in such a hurry. Even when knowing this, you still wanted to take your chances.

"Jeonghan."

You called out to him in a quiet voice, small and fragile and lacking in firmness. He stood in the middle of the room, ready to leave but he turned around to look back at you— even if it was stupid, it bubbled the faintest shimmer of hope. You pulled the covers closer to yourself, looking down at the crumpled white sheets as you pressed your lips together before saying.

"I like you."

He didn't say it back.

Instead he smiled at you, feet padding against your wooden floors as he walked up to you in bed, pressing a small kiss on your forehead before ruffling your already messed up hair.

"I'll see you tomorrow, pretty girl."

But you didn't see him tomorrow.

You didn't see him at all after that.

The seat beside you in class was now occupied by an abhorrent emptiness that made you want to drag your nails against your skin. You tried searching for him in the crowded walls of the large classroom, but he was either not there or hidden by the enormous mass of bodies. He left you with a heavy heart and the only one you could find yourself to blame was yourself. Your mother's words never stopped ringing inside your head since then.

It was like fate was laughing at you when you saw him again at the campus cafe— just like the first time you met him. You were in a hurry to leave when you accidentally bumped into him, your coffee nearly spilling from your hands. You parted ways without anything exchanged.

Your mother had always told you to never trust strangers.

Maybe you should have listened to her words.

[twomoonstwosuns]

studying.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: so much smut (18+), fluff

word count: 3.0k

a/n: pretty much pure smut, not a lot of plot. also fluffy. i have not written smut like this before so i really hope it’s good and i hope you enjoy! feedback always welcome and so, so appreciated. 

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

Turned on was an understatement.

You couldn’t remember ever being so worked up. You had a pretty decent sex life, a better one since you started seeing Poe, which got even greater when you started dating and seeing him more. Being in a fight then being in a car accident, you were too beat up to do anything physical. It also didn’t help that Poe practically waited on you hand and foot whenever you were with him and was extra sweet and attentive. It made you want to jump his bones.

You were done being coddled. You were in the mood to be manhandled.

You would physically beg for it if it came to that.

Stretched out on Poe’s couch, you had your legs laid across your boyfriend’s lap with books and notecards propped up on your stomach. Poe stared at his laptop, tapping his fingers lightly against the top of the keyboard. He wasn’t reading anything or studying something. He was simply staring.

“You look bored,” you stated, glancing up at him. Poe ran a hand over his jaw, your eyes following every movement and craving the feeling of his stubble against your skin.

“I don’t know why I agreed to give a speech at this conference next weekend.”

“Because you’re amazing? Because you’re passionate? Because people actually listen to you when you speak? I could go on and on.”

“Go ahead sweetheart, keep stroking my ego.”

You nudged him with your foot when he shot you a wink. He knew he was good and passionate and that people listened to him. But he still felt very humbled when people told him that.

Poe shut his laptop and set it aside, reaching forward to finish his glass of water. You watched his shirt ride up just enough to see a sliver of golden skin. His neck bobbed as he swallowed the water and you gulped. God, you wanted him.

Then an idea came to mind.

“If you’re bored, you could quiz me. Help me prep for this test.”

“That sounds just as boring as writing a speech.”

You sat up, pulling your feet off of Poe’s lap and crossing them underneath you. “It is, but I can make it worth your while.”

Intrigued, Poe turned his body so he was fully facing you, his arm draped over the back of the couch. “How so?”

You smirked. “For every question I get wrong, I’ll take off a piece of clothing.”

Poe chuckled lightly. ��And if you get the question right?”

“Then you’ll take something off.”

“And what happens when we run out of clothes?”

You shrugged innocently, your eyes hungry as you looked at him. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Poe considered your idea. It was a win-win for the both of you, though there would probably be a point where the studying would come to an abrupt halt.

“And actually you know what? We better make it every three questions I get right that you strip.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m going to get you naked pretty fast and then it’ll all be over.”

“I’m sure we can find something to do afterwards,” You bit your lip as Poe nodded towards your lap.

“Give me those notecards.”

Twenty minutes later, Poe was shirtless in his sweatpants and you were still dressed. You had moved from the couch, unable to sit still, and paced his living room when you had to give really in depth answers. Poe switched back and forth from your notes to the book, knowing very well that teachers often pulled questions from the book without specifying that it would be on the test.

“How many marketing functions exist?”

You knew the answer, but you were getting bored with studying. The sight of Poe lounging on the couch in just his sweatpants and the idea of even just curling up next to him was making you lose focus. One more right answer would have Poe down to his briefs and your thoughts would go back to being much less innocent. A wrong answer would have you taking off either your shirt or your pants. Poe watched you have your internal battle, his eyebrows raised as he waited for an answer.

“Five.”

“Seven,” Poe smirked. “I know you knew that one.”

“Guess not,” you said in a sing-song voice as you lifted your shirt over your head. The black bra you had on was a little dressier than other ones you had and certainly fancier than what was called for on a lazy weekend, but you woke up that morning with the desire to show off a little bit.

“Is that new?” Poe asked.

“Kind of,” you answered, suddenly feeling a little shy with the way Poe was looking at you. “It’s what I had under my dress after dinner with my family.”

Poe sensed your unease and beckoned you over to him, standing you between his legs as his eyes became level with your stomach.

“You’re beautiful,” he said as his knuckle ran over the few spots on your skin that were still tinged yellow. “You can barely see the bruises anymore.”

“Soon they’ll be gone and it’ll be nothing but a bad memory.”

Poe’s hands held your waist carefully as he pressed his lips to your stomach, the incredibly tender action making your heart pound hard against your chest. You brought a hand up to rest against his neck, fingers grazing the ends of his hair as his lips moved across your bare stomach.

He was so close to where you wanted him yet so far.

“Poe.” Your soft voice brought his attention up to you. Connecting your eyes with his, you leaned up and kissed him deeply, your tongue taking it’s familiar route inside Poe’s mouth as your hands rested on his shoulders. You gently bit his lip as you pulled back and his mouth twitched up into a dazed smile.

“What was that for?”

“You haven’t touched me in nearly two weeks.” Poe exhaled deeply and you shook your head.  “It’s no one’s fault, we were fighting and then my accident happened so we never got our makeup sex.”

Running your hands down his neck, you gave his shoulders a short squeeze before continuing.

“I want you. So bad. I am wound so freaking tight right now that I’m about to snap. So I need you to fuck me and fuck me good. Please.”

Poe chuckled lowly as he stood up, his arms fully trapping you against him.

“Well now, how can I deny that request?”

He brought you into a hungry kiss, his mouth slanting over yours as his tongue invaded your mouth. You pressed yourself against him, your hands trailing from his shoulders down his chest to the band of his bottoms. You pushed his sweatpants down and kicked them away before disconnecting your lips and pushing him onto the couch. You slid your own pants down and straddled his lap, slamming your lips back onto his.

“You tell me if it’s too much for you, ok?” Poe said against your lips, slowing down a second to let you respond. You knew it wouldn’t, your healed body buzzing with a deep desire for him, but you nodded anyway as you rolled your hips down onto his. A satisfied grin crossed your face when he raised his hips to meet yours.

As he moved from your mouth to your jaw, his lips left trails of fire, sucking spots onto your skin with a message that said he missed this too. You captured his lips again as his hands kneaded your breasts through your bra, pulling one of the cups down and pinching your nipple with his fingers. He kissed the skin that spilled over and, as much as you loved it, the need for his skin against yours was too great. You unclasped your bra, flinging it across the room, and Poe’s lips attached to each area of your newly exposed skin.

You rolled your hips over Poe’s, his hardened cock pressing against you and rubbing the rough lace of your underwear against your clit. You palmed him through his briefs, his groan vibrating against your breasts.

“Holy shit Poe, I need you. Fill me up, please.”

Dirty talk wasn’t really your forte. You’ve begged Poe to fuck you before and you made sure to praise him whenever he did something that made your toes curl, but you didn’t often do anything more than that.

You’d have felt a little embarrassed by your desperate brazenness had you not caught the dark blown out look in Poe’s eyes as his lips detached from you and curled into a smirk.

“Say it again,” his voice low and rough and his fingers dipping down into your underwear. You whimpered as they brushed your clit.

“Poe…”

He lowered his mouth onto your neck, your pulse thumping widely against his lips. His fingers ran along your folds. “Say.” Kiss. “It.” Kiss. “Again.”

He sunk a finger into your core as he gently bit down on your collarbone, making you let out a breathy moan. A flood of heat coursed through your body and settled in your core.

“I--fuck Poe,” you whispered breathlessly, your walls clenching around his finger. He had stopped kissing your neck, instead watching your start to fall apart on top of him. “I need your cock. Filling me. Stretching me.”

Poe smirked as he kissed you. You released his cock from his briefs and he removed his fingers and twisted your underwear aside. Your eyes met his, both asking the same question: are you sure?

You waited for his nod before lining him up with your entrance and sinking down onto him, his length and girth the missing piece to your puzzle. He stretched you wonderfully as the ridges and veins of his cock brushed against your walls. You took a second to adjust before rising up and sinking back down onto him. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you as you set the pace, riding him faster. Poe’s hand slithered up your back, twisting it in your hair and gripping tightly. Your nails dug into his shoulders as a strangled cry left your throat, the sound of skin on skin filling the apartment.

“You feel so good, fuck you’re so tight.”

The exertion of riding him began to slow you down. With a bruising grip on your hips, Poe took control and began thrusting up into you. You could feel your stomach tightening, your hand clutching the one on your hip as you were blindsided by a freight train of pleasure. Poe thrusted harder into you as you rode out your orgasm.

After one particularly hard thrust, Poe held you still on his lap, kissing you like his life depended on it. He held you down on his cock and wrapped his arms around your waist, carefully maneuvering himself off of the couch and onto the floor. He pulled out and tapped the outside of your thigh.

“On your knees,” he breathed with a wicked smirk. Your body flushed with lust as you sat up onto your knees, running your lips along his jaw to meet at his mouth. He kissed you sweetly, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. Poe grabbed your wrist as you reached for his cock, stopping you and turning you away from him so your back was against his chest.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said again, and your heart squeezed with how much he cared about your comfort. Still unable to form any coherent words, you simply nodded. Poe slid your underwear down, ripping them off when it became a struggle to get them off in your current position.

“Hey!” You laughed as he flung the flimsy piece of fabric aside. One arm wrapped around your waist to hold you in place as he brought this cock back to your entrance.

“I’ll buy you another pair,” he said as he slid back into you, his hips immediately snapping against yours as he kissed your shoulder.

Hard and fast, he was giving you exactly what you were craving. Every push of his cock against your sweet spot was heightened due to the sensitivity you still felt after your first orgasm and you knew you’d come again quickly. You leaned your arms on his coffee table, needing something to brace yourself against as he pounded into you.

“This what you needed?” Poe panted, bottoming out inside you. “For me to fuck you like this?”

“Yes--Poe, yes, just like that.”

Poe grunted as he felt his release creeping up on him. He squeezed the skin of your ass before his hand came down and swatted it. You gasped in surprise and Poe immediately stopped moving, afraid he might’ve gone a little too far in the heat of the moment. You looked at him over your shoulder, a half smile forming on your face.

“Do it again,” you whispered hoarsely. Poe pushed into you deeply, tenderly rubbing the reddening spot before smacking the same spot again. Poe smirked down at you as you moaned in absolute pleasure.

“Who would’ve thought?” Poe poked fun at you as he punctuated each word with a thrust, his cock deep inside you as he came. You couldn’t come up with a comeback as he smacked your ass one last time, his fingers then sneaking around to your clit and sending you over the edge.

The iron struck white hot in your belly as you cried out, your walls fluttering around him and your legs quaking. You fell forward onto the table, the both of you panting as you caught your breath.

This was what you both needed. Every apology, every ‘I miss you’, every piece of lingering frustration was taken out on each other.

“Oh my god,” you panted as Poe pulled out. He collected you against him and sat onto the floor with his back against the couch. You slumped against his chest, the side of your head resting against his necklace. Poe gently ran his hands down your sides, one hand intertwining with yours while the other lightly tracing the red marks he left on your ass.

“I hate you,” you giggled, squirming at the sting. Poe squeezed your skin slightly, pulling you closer into him when you squirmed again.

“You most certainly do not,” Poe poked the side of your stomach, causing you to giggle again. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a spanking kink?”

You blushed, hiding your face in his chest. He pushed your hair back to try and see your face.

“Come on, don’t be shy now,” he said, tilting your head up to see your cheeks red but a satisfied smile on your face.

“I didn’t know,” you admitted, laughing lightly. Resting your chin on Poe’s chest, you gazed up at him.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, a soft smile on your lips. Poe didn’t need to ask what you were thanking him for specifically. There were numerous meanings behind it and he knew each one. All he did was lean down and press a sure kiss to forehead and then to your lips.

“You want to order pizza?” Poe asked when he pulled back, wiggling his eyebrows. You snickered as you stood up, hauling Poe up with you.

“You do that, I’m going to go clean up.”

You were just about to Poe’s bedroom when he called your name.

“You know you’re going to have to help me write that speech now since you distracted me?” He smirked as he put the phone up to his ear.

You chuckled. “I know. Of course I’ll help you.”

“Also...did you retain any of the stuff I quizzed you on?”

“Yes, though I pretty much knew it all already. I kind of got a couple answers wrong on purpose.”

“I knew it.”

With a wink, you disappeared into his bathroom. You took a washcloth and cleaned up the mess between your thighs, looking at the bruises left behind and  having a very different reaction than the last time you looked at bruises that were on your body. Throwing your hair up, you tossed the cloth into the laundry and dug in Poe’s drawers for a shirt and a pair of boxers. The jingle of Beebs’ collar grabbed your attention as he changed positions on Poe’s bed. Leaning on the bed, you scratched under Beebs’ chin, his eyes closing in content.

“Oh Beebs, I’m sorry we keep having sex in front of you.”

You scooped up Beebs, the affectionate pup licking your face as you brought him out into the kitchen. Poe was redressed and had grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge.

“I think we’re scarring your poor dog,” you said as Poe came up and scratched his dog’s belly. “I’m going to get him a toy as an apology.”

“You don’t have to do that. Besides, he’s got enough toys.”

“A bone then,” you lowered your voice so Beebs wouldn’t get excited over the word ‘bone’. You smiled down at Beebs, rocking him slightly. “And I want to. Because you’re the best dog in the whole world who has the best dad in the whole world.”

You brought Beebs to the living room, setting him down on the floor as you picked up a rope toy to play with. You tossed it and watched him run after it, his tiny fluffy body jiggling with excitement. There was a knock on the door as you plugged Poe’s laptop into its charger and you glanced at the clock above his oven.

“That was, what? Twenty minutes? Impressive.”

Poe grabbed the door, looking back when Beebs let out a high-pitched whine  just in time to see his dog launch himself at you.

“Toddler?” The pizza guy asked, highly amused as he glanced into Poe’s apartment. Poe shook his head with an amused smile as he stepped in front of the guy’s line of sight, knowing there were still clothes strewn around the living room.  

“Hyper dog,” he said, giving the cash to the pizza guy. With a nod of appreciation, Poe shut the door and set the pizza on the counter.

You tossed the toy one more time before getting up and meeting Poe in the kitchen, trading a kiss for a slice of pizza.

You could get used to this domesticity.

tag list [open!] - @ah-callie @darksideofclarke @gloomygoregirl @leilei-draws @imaginecrushes @i-ievu @brianamaree @yeeintensifies @spider-starry @krazykatkay456 @fanfiction-trashpile @afootnoteinyourhappiness @easterncryptid @my-child-gaara @myrandom-fandomlife @onebatch--twobatch @the-cry-of-youth @p3nny4urth0ught5 @porgiez @umchrisevans @galaxy-of-stories @seeking-a-great--perhaps @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @dameronsgalaxygal @mserynlarsen @yougottakeeponkeepinon @maze-It101 @goddamndameron 

[parts-of-spop]

AU where Catra lets Adora fall in the First Ones Temple and she doesn’t come out... until she does.

Part 2 in which Catra, having retired from her position as Force Captain in her grief, is tasked to scope out the Temple then return to Force Captain Lonnie. It should be quick and simple because the Temple opens for no one.

But the doors are open and she can’t resist.

The door is open.

Just… open. Like a waiting invitation.

“What?” She murmurs in bewilderment and it’s the most emotion she’s felt in months.

Beneath the dim light of the moons, her tail lashes and her claws flex restlessly into the branch beneath her.

She knows, sensibly, she should report back to Lonnie, her Force Captain, and let her know of this development but then Catra’s never been sensible has she? Smart but not sensible.

She climbs down the tree and inches towards the open door.

Adora died in there.

What if she comes across her body?

She couldn’t handle that.

She’d rather claw her own eyes out than see that.

But she inches inward and deeper into the darkness, careful not to touch anything or activate any of those spider things she remembers because she’s just… she’s not willing to fight nowadays unless she must.

She pads down a hallway, following dim blue lights, scanning around herself warily and waiting for it to all go red and turn against her.

It doesn’t.

She still thinks she should have returned to her squad but it doesn’t stop her pressing forward, slightly crouched with claws retracted just in case.

There’s another door in front of her and she raises her claws to slash it open when it suddenly opens with a soft whoosh and her breath stalls.

She hears beeping and clicks, her ears twitching towards them.

But her eyes are locked onto the form across the room.

The figure is painfully familiar…

But also, completely not.

It can’t be…

Long blonde hair flows free down her back with a white and gold uniform hugging her body.

She’s tapping away on some sort of keyboard, swift and effortless like she was born to, apparently unaware of Catra’s presence behind her.

But it just… it kind of looks like her and she can’t help hoping so-

“… Adora?” Catra croaks and the hands still in their motions.

Broad shoulders- broader than before- go tense for a moment. It’s easy to see the reams of hard-earned muscle.

Then she slowly turns and the first thing Catra notices is the amount of scars dotting her face, some pink but most of them pale and there’s a noticeably larger one cutting through her lips, little dents left behind.

Then it’s her eyes. They’re the same blue but they glow nearly as brightly as She-ra’s.

Catra finds herself creeping slowly nearer despite it all, trying to determine whether this is real or a very vivid hallucination or real.

If it is real, she isn’t sure how Adora looks… older. Like years have passed instead of months.

Adora still hasn’t spoken and her face is unnervingly unreadable.

Catra could always read her but she can’t now.

“Adora… How are you…?” She trails off and Adora blinks at her.

“Alive?” She finishes.

Oh, her voice. It still haunts all her dreams but she can’t get enough of it.

“… Yeah…” Catra rasps and Adora has the gall to shrug at her.

“After you left me for dead-“ Catra winces but Adora either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice- “-Light Hope encouraged me to stay and… work on some things.”

She’s being vague and stiff and not like Adora.

If this is a hallucination it’s a poor one.

“You’ve been here for 9 months?” Catra confirms and Adora pauses briefly.

“To you, it’s 9 months. Time is relative in the temple though so I’ve actually been here for nearly four years,” She replies smoothly and Catra feels like she’s been sucker-punched.

“But why didn’t you leave?” She splutters. Why did you not tell anybody you were okay?

“I needed to focus and train. It turns out my attachments tend to make me vulnerable,” Adora replies, eyes filled with meaning and Catra feels sick with disgust at herself.

“What… What’ve you been training at?” She says shakily. That’s safe. A safe easy question.

Until it’s not.

“And why would I tell a member of the Horde something like that?”

Another blow. This one harder because Adora looks cool and almost lazy in her detachment as she looks at her… like she just doesn’t care anymore.

Catra knows she’s earned that look but it doesn’t make it hurt less.

“A-Adora…” She croaks weakly, ears pinning back and for just a brief moment, her expression softens.

Then it’s gone and she’s back to being unwavering.

“Do you know why I felt I had to leave when I found the Sword?” She asks and Catra can only shake her head mutely, still winded. “It wasn’t just about saving the world, Catra… It was about saving a world… that had you in it.”

Oh…

Oh fuck…

“But I don’t have that problem any more… because I’m letting go, Catra, do you understand?” Adora continues and Catra wants to run, to hide but she can’t move. Adora’s approaching.

She looks so strong and almost regal in her new clothes.

She stands close, toe to toe with Catra.

They haven’t been this close without hurting each other in nearly two years.

Adora eyes burn hot into her own as her hands raise and cup her face between her hands, the touch gentle and bordering cautious.

She could probably snap Catra’s neck right now and be done with it.

Catra can’t say she’d mind much.

But then Adora does something far worse.

She guides her in and brushes a whisper of a kiss over her lips.

It makes her whimper and shake, her lips left tingling at the too brief touch.

Oh…

“I have loved you since I met you…” What? “But I’m letting you go now… I’m not doing this for you anymore… do you understand?” Adora presses and Catra feels Adora’s forehead rest against hers gently as she tries to process everything with limited success.

Then it clicks.

“… You’re giving up on me,” Catra murmurs in a quiet and gut-wrenching moment of realisation and Adora gazes back into her steadily.

“I don’t want to… but I will because I must… I can’t save this planet and keep defending you. It just doesn’t work that way… It’ll get me killed,” She reasons and her thumbs are stroking her cheeks, wetness dampening her fur.

Catra’s crying. She hadn’t noticed.

“Do you hate me?” She asks shakily and Adora’s eyes trail over her face for a moment.

“No… I don’t hate you…”

“… Why did you just kiss me, Adora? Why would you do that?” Catra presses, voice cracking with desperation to just understand.

Adora gazes into her for another moment.

“Because this is the only chance I’ll ever have,” She says, voice dropping to a whisper and Catra feels her chest tighten with fresh pain, more tears spilling free. Then anger curls in her stomach and she’s grabbing at Adora’s shirt roughly, claws catching in the fabric.

“Then do it properly!”

Adora barely hesitates, eyes widening for half a second before she’s lunging forward and pulling Catra into a frantic, bruising kiss.

Catra knows this is going to kill her later.

This kiss that she’s wanted since they turned thirteen and learned what kissing was is going to kill her.

It’s going to be the death of her.

It doesn’t matter... because if this is all she gets of Adora then she’ll take it in both hands and dig her claws deep enough that Hordak himself will have to tear it from her.

If this is the only part of Adora she gets to have, she’ll die defending it.

She presses closer and ignores the tears staining her own face.

She doesn’t notice how Adora trembles, just as broken and aching and wanting as herself.

[dreamyjoons]

case studkrkgksnwk // jhs

⇢ Study study study. You have to revise for upcoming exams, but your boyfriend Hoseok is tired of having to share you with your textbooks.

Genre/warning: established relationship! Fluff, smut. Oral (f recieving), fingering, swearing.

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: hello! Happy Valentines! Here is my drabble for the ksmutclub’s Secret Admirer project. The apple of my eye was @justonedaywithmysunshine ! Talking about you going back to college got this idea in my head, I hope you don’t mind 👀 I hope you enjoy, I loved getting to talk to you and being your Tulip 🌷more to come soon 🥴

You shuck your coat off your shoulders, letting it crumple to the floor as you stagger through your apartment.

Hoseok sits up from the sofa, the sound of you dragging through your shared place unmistakable.  

“Hey.” He smiles, dropping his phone beside him.

He leans up and hangs over the edge of the chair, waiting expectantly, beaming up at you. His smile is so bright that you can’t help but mirror him. You step forward and plant a soft kiss on your boyfriend’s lips before stepping back and watching his heart-shaped smile sit easily.

“Hey.” You mirror, walking away to drop your heavy rucksack on the dining table.

The table was littered with papers and pages of your scrawly handwriting. Hoseok tried his best to keep it ordered and neat but you were like a tornado, sending pages flying in a frantic bid to keep your studies up to date.

He swivels on his spot on the couch and watches as you empty the contents of your bag onto the surface, dark brown eyes narrowed. You glance over at him, but he looks away quickly, running a finger and thumb through his dark hair.

“How was class? You better not be making a mess up there.” He makes his voice low and authoritative, but you know he’s only playing. You merely stick out your tongue in response, to which he scrunches his face.

“It was okay. I’ve got a mountain of things to do though.” You groan, slumping into the chair. You take a moment to roll your shoulders before sitting up and getting to work.

You flip open your laptop and spread your books out around you, bleary eyes slowly scanning across the assorted pile of information. You hear Hoseok whine as he gets to his feet, shuffling towards you.

He stands beside you, fingers absently tracing patterns into the sleeve of your shirt. You lean into his touch, trying to ignore the fact that you’d not been able to truly get to cuddle - let alone anything else - for a few weeks now. It was starting to get to the both of you.

“Do you have to do that now?” He whines, pouting his lips dramatically at you.

“Yes, I have a test tomorrow and the day after.” You sigh, shuffling your books around.

He huffs, slumping as he watches you. You raise an eyebrow at him before averting your gaze, trying hard to ignore the puppy-dog eyes he was trying to lure you in with.

Your computer boots finally, and as you begin to pull up note from your lecture, his finger drags up your shoulder and pushes your hair aside. You let your eyes flicker for a second but ignore him, determined to see this study session through.

It isn’t until his lips press at the juncture between your neck and your shoulder that your eyes slam shut. A gasp leaves your lips as he moves up your neck, gently placing soft kisses behind your ear.

“H-Hobi… wait.” You whisper, voice breaking.

“What love? I’m not trying to stop you.”

“You’re distracting me.”

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping back and letting your hair fall back into place.

You ignore the disappointment that settles in your stomach as you start to read back over your notes. He’s pushed from your mind as you begin to get into it, transfering important information to your botes.

You barely hear him sulking around over the top of your keyboard, but it isn’t until you feel something budge your leg that you snap out of your trance.

“Hobi?”

There’s no reply. After a moment you move back to your work, assuming that he’d gone to do some work on his own assignment.

Barely a minute passes before fingers are reaching into the waistband of your leggings and panties, tugging them down past your knees. You yelp as you’re jolted in the seat, cool air hitting your core.

“What the fu-“

“I don’t hear you working.”

“I’m half naked, Hoseok!”

You shuffle your panties back up, but as you make a grab for your leggins he rips them back down again. You lean down and glare at him, watching as he pouts up at you.

“Do you not want to have some fun, Y/N?” He asks, voice soft despite how awkwardly he is bent under the table.

“Of course baby, but I have to study.”

He purses his lips, the neediness plain on his face.

“Fine.”

“Great.” You roll your eyes, sitting up and moving to pull up your underwear at the very least.

“But... let me try something. I saw it in a Cosmo one.”

You stifle a giggle as you lean back under the table, eyebrow raised. He looks at you with a glint in his eye.

“You’ve read Cosmo?”

“Yeah, I wanted to read a review they had on a moisturiser.” He shrugs. “Just sit up and get back to work. Trust me.”

You stare at him for a moment before sighing, giving in to his request. You ponder for just a moment as to where his mind could possibly be going when you feel his finger slide up your slit.

You gasp, sitting bolt upright in the chair as his finger rocks back down lightly over your core.

“Hobi!”

“Keep working.” His voice is low and authoritative.  

An excited jolt runs through you as you subconsciously let your legs fall open wider. You wait, but he makes no more moves, simply letting himself lean against your legs. His breath rolls up the inside of your thighs, the soft scent of his shampoo drifting up, the combination almost heady.

Cautiously you begin to type out another sentence, your body practically thrumming for him. It isn’t until you had been typing for another solid ten seconds or so that you feel another finger ghost across your clit. Your eyes flutter for a moment, but you’re determined not to let the sensation go.

You continue to move notes across, fighting the roll of your hip with each gentle pass that Hoseok floats over your clit.

“Keep going, Y/N.” Comes the voice from beneath the table, and you bite your lip in anticipation.

You flip your page, forcing your hips to still before typing again. This time you felt nothing, and was considering to check if he was still there-

Hoseok licks a wide strip up your slit, tongue flicking ever so lightly across your clit.  

“Hobi…” you moan, fingers scrunching the pages scattered before you.

“I can’t hear you working.” His voice is barely above a whisper, lips so close to your clit that you can practically feel him grazing you.

With a blank mind, you absently begin to press random keys, hoping to lure him back out.

It works. He presses his fingers into the soft insides of your thighs, spreading you for him. He’s on you within a second, rolling his tongue over your clit.

You suck in a breath, fingers barely tapping keys as the tip of his tongue darts across your core. A hand slides down to tangle in his hair, to pull him closer and stop the teasing but he pulls away, detaching your grip from his dark locks.

“Now now, you said you needed to study.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you’re almost glad you can’t see the smug look through the table.

You whine, bringing your hand back on top of the table but shuffling forward in your seat so that you’re right on the edge.

“How can I concentrate?” You moan, trying to subtly thrust your hips at him.

“Positive reinf-“

“Hobi, if you’re trying to Pavlov me into remembering my notes because you’re eating me out, I swear-“

You’re cut off as he puts his lips on your clit, sucking it into his mouth and flicking it quickly with his tongue. Your words choke off as your hands grip the edge of the table, rolling your hips into his face.

His thumb brushes the inside of your thighs, stroking the soft skin as he lets his tongue swirl your sensitive nub.

He pulls off you with a wet pop, letting a delicate finger trace around the throbbing area before moving his finger down to pool in your growing wetness. Those pretty lips that you could spend eternity kissing purse at you, a slim eyebrow crooked at you. 

“Keep working love.”

You want to flip the table, to drag him by the collar and have your way with him but you know Hoseok would never budge. You made your bed, and now you’d have to lie in it.

You move to the keyboard again, take a deep breath and begin to type at random.

Hoseok doesn’t wait this time, dragging his tongue up the full length of your slit and sucking your clut into his mouth again. He flicks at it, moaning as he works. Your head falls back as you smack at random keys, letting your hips roll.

The wet noises that rise to meet the clacking of your keyboard makes heat burn across your face, and it takes all your concentration to keep pressing at the keyboard.

He works at you ferociously, moving between licking fat stripes up your soaking core to take you in his mouth and making you see stars. You slam your hand down, random letters flying across the screen as your body shudders.

“Hobi, baby…” you whimper, the stiffness from where you sat awkwardly pushed far from your mind as pleasure rolls through you.

It isn’t until you feel one of his delicate fingers is circling at your entrance that you finally drop the pretence of typing.

He begins to press the finger inside of you slowly. A whimper of his name leaves you, the drag of his knuckles blurring your mind.

His mouth is back on you as he begins to move his finger inside you, deft precise movements that only Hoseok could do. Every touch, flick and moan is perfectly tailored to you, and as much as his perfection can bristle you, you love it endlessly. 

You rock on his finger and he lets you, watching as you work yourself up on his fingers. You squeeze on his digits and he groans, the vibrations making your clit throb.

“Here..” he rasps, sliding another finger inside. You groan, your knuckles turning white from where you grip the table so hard.

“Wanna touch you.” You whimper, your breath short.

He seemed to be in an extra giving mood. You let out a yelp as Hoseok pushes your chair back, moving you both out from under the table. But he doesn’t miss a beat, mouth still attached to you and fingers still deep inside you.

His eyes flick up to yours, a mischievous glint in his eye as he rolls a thick tongue across your clit. You choke on a gasp, letting your fingers finally knot in his silky hair.

His fingers pump into you, rolling up to brush over your soft spot. You roll your hips into him, keeping him pressed to you as you feel yourself reaching the edge.

“I’m gonna-“

“Show me, Y/N.”

With a few final fucks of his fingers you come undone.

You cry out his name as your orgasm washes over you, body juddering as you clamp down on him. He works you through it, eyes screwed shut as you roll against his face.

Soon the waves fade out, and Hoseok let’s his wet fingers slip from you. He takes a second to lick away your mess, soft eyes floating up to you. When you twitch with over-sensitivity he finally stops, moving to lean against one of your thighs and grin at you.

You smile down at him as you return back to reality, everything blurry but your boyfriend. His heart-shaped smile glistens at you, your wetness sitting prettily on his lips. You wipe him with your hand before you pull him up for a kiss, the taste of you fresh on his tongue.

He brushes hair back from your face as he grins down at you, delicate fingers grazing the tip of your ear. The tender touch brings heat to your face, comfy and loved.

Your eyes flick to your screen once you sit back in your seat, and a giggle bubbles out of you.

Do you wanna see my notes?” You laugh, eyes flicking between him and your screen.

He stands up between your legs and peers down at your screen, mouth moving as he scans the rows of text:

‘-but we can see from the case studkrkgksnwk…’

Hobi leans back from your laptop and laughs, eyes crinkling as he scrolls through the wall of keysmash. He looks back down at you, infectiously happy aura radiating from him and you feel your heart swell.

“You’ve worked hard.” He giggles, reaching out a hand to you. You let him pull you to your feet and press a soft kiss to your lips.

You can feel his hard length press into your stomach, and a blush burning bright on his cheeks. You smirk at him, letting your hand stroke him over his sweatpants. His eyes flutter, lips parting at the sensation.

“Wah…” he gasps.

You smile at the effect you have on him, stepping out of your leggings and panties, leaving them crumpled on the floor beside your bag.

“I thought you had work to do?” He asks, regaining control of his face as he meets your gaze.

“I’m sure we can be quick...” you shrug, taking him by the hand and pulling him towards your bedroom. He grins, a bounce in his step.

“We’ll see about that!”

[bngtanah]

House of Triad | Games (m)

summary: All the best things come in threes.     Just a bunch of one-shots centering around V, RM and the shared girlfriend they affectionately call ‘Honey’.

pairing: Vmon  x Reader

word count: 3.1k genre:  smut rating: explicit

chapters: o1| o2| o3|

warning: light angst, smut, fluff, explicit sexual themes, ambw, poly, oral (fem receiving), fingering, pillow talk.

a/n: There is no plot, only trash.

Working from home seemed like an easy enough perk. You get to stay at home, wake up twenty minutes before you’re supposed to working and sleep in whenever you wanted.

Simple.

This is exactly what Honey thought just before she became a full-time writer and writing was no longer a fun hobby that she had a natural talent for but the very bane of her existence on most days when she just could not get the thoughts out of her head and onto the page in front of her. The music helped her to focus she liked to say, usually her Pandora mix of choice was the Classical station but today she was furiously typing along with show tunes she knew would only end up stuck in her head later. Her fingers were moving at an untraceable speed across the surface of her keyboard as she muttered each sentence before she wrote it underneath her breath to make sure it sounded right. Today was supposed to be her day off, but her publishers called at precisely the last minute, moving the deadline for her to finish the next few chapters up to the end of this week instead of the following one.

Which meant she had to pull two additional chapters she hadn’t even started thinking about out of thin air and send them off to the proofreaders. Needless to say, 'Honey' was stressed. Almost ready to pull out her hair stressed, but you would never know it by looking at her; especially not now she looked almost serene while she typed and bobbed her head along to music in her ears. She had been on such a creative roll until she hit the enter button to begin a new line and her train of thought completely derailed. It was almost as if her brain had short-circuited entirely, with a loud groan she shot up from her seat and ran a hand through her hair. Just as she was about to pace around the room to get her blood flowing, something dark moved in the corner of her eye which made her scream loudly and throw the closest thing in reach (her iPod) at the ominous figure. 

"Wah! What's wrong with you?" Taehyung cried after the metal object connected with the corner of his head before clattering to the ground. His hand immediately flew to the now throbbing area as he hissed in pain.

"Shit, Tae" The smaller woman gasped once she realised that the dark figure hovering in the doorway was her boyfriend and not an intruder "Sorry, I didn't know you were home already, let me see" She cooed and crossed the room to inspect the red bruise that was forming on the side of his forehead. Taehyung stood just a few inches above 'Honey' and he made a point of pouting and grimacing even harder when his girlfriend dabbed her fingertips to the outer edge of his bruise. It didn't really hurt all that much but Tae could never pass up a chance to be dramatic.

"Why are you throwing things, anyway?" He asked, sounding pained as he slid his arms around his Honey's waist and pulled her close to his chest. As she pressed her cheek against his chest and sighed heavily, Tae glanced over her head for a second; noticed the open Word document on her laptop screen and he no longer needed an answer to his question. "Ah, that's why."

"I hate my job," Honey groaned into Taehyung's cotton shirt and he rested his hand on the crown of her head.

"No, you don't, Hon" Tae replied with his trademark grin, "You're probably just a little stressed, maybe you should take a break?" He asked, his gaze trailing from the back of her head to her backside while his girlfriend detached herself from his body and slowly walked back over to her desk.

"I can feel your eyes on my ass, Tae," Honey said with deadpan delivery making Taehyung chuckle to himself while she sat down and pressed her fingers back to her keyboard, "I would love to take a break but I really don't have time for that. These chapters are due by the end of the week."

"That's in three days," Taehyung reasoned and placed his hands on her shoulders. One of his thumbs rubbed circles against the base of her spine and he leaned forward so she could feel his warm breath billow over her skin as he spoke, "I'm asking for 20 minutes, hour tops."

Honey felt a jolt of lust throughout his body when she picked up on what he was implying. "I'm busy Tae," She muttered, despite the arousal that was building between her legs. She knew that there was no way that she could continue to say no if he kept massaging the pressure points on her neck.

"I can make you cum in ten minutes if you really want, baby" Taehyung growled softly, leaning close to her ear. His lips teased the outer shell of her ear, the tip of his tongue flicking against the skin and Honey felt her body inadvertently shudder beneath his touch. She was prepared to brush him off against, in one last attempt to finish her work for the day but when his hands moved down from her shoulders to the front of her chest to playfully tease her breasts over her thin t-shirt Honey lost the will to deny him any longer.

"Tae?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Ten minutes only."

Taehyung grinned like a child on Christmas morning and wasted no time carrying her over to the bed, dropping her on the mattress with little gentility and climbing on top of her right away. Their lips connected immediately in a frantic kiss and Honey's hands found their place around his neck and Taehyung grabbed one of her legs and lifted it over his waist. Honey threw her head back against the soft pillows as Tae trailed kisses from her lips, across her jaw, and down her neck her hands slid down his back, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. Taehyung sat up for a moment to let his shirt come off before his lips returned to their previous place while Honey's hands explored his newly exposed torso. 

Eventually, he pulled her away from his chest and dragged her mouth to his while he used the other to lift her out of the flimsy dress that was covering her body. The moment that the article of clothing was pulled over her head Honey threw it to the floor, leaving her naked with the exception of her panties. Tae groaned softly as he looked down at his Honey spread out on their bed, there was a part of him that wanted to pounce and ravish her as quickly and roughly as he could, keeping his promise to only keep her away from her work for ten minutes but he stopped himself. He wanted her to get her work done but there was nothing stopping him from having a little fun first.

"You're stunning," he muttered genuinely and smiled when he caught her blushing. He bent down, lips brushing against the silky smooth skin of her stomach and her legs spread wider so he could lie between them.

He kissed his way up her stomach, licking upwards on her sternum while one of his hands slid down her body and snatched off her panties before settling between her legs.

"Mmm," she moaned and pushed her head back against the pillows as his finger ran up and down her slit teasingly.

He kissed along her shoulder as his index finger circled her clit. She tugged on his hair, pulling him up to meet her lips, gasping into his mouth as he entered a single fingers inside of her.

"Tae," she could barely stop herself from moaning out his name as he added a second finger.

He loved the sound of his name on her lips, he'd never tire of hearing her pant and moan any variation of it. Taehyung pulled his fingers from her, smiling slightly at her visible displeasure, and got off the bed. He grabbed both of her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed then kneeled down, spreading her open and wide before him diving right in, tongue shooting in and out.

Honey sighed sharply and gripped the bed sheets below as she ground down. "God, TaeTae," she groaned, and a hand went down to his hair, pulling him closer to her. "I'm so close," she whispered breathlessly.

A finger joined his tongue, followed by another and Honey could feel herself nearing the edge. It didn't take much longer when he removed his tongue from her and began to suck on her clit while three of his fingers moved furiously inside of her.

She cried out his name when she began to shudder as she came around his fingers, moaning lightly as he lapped up her arousal, not wanting a waste one drop.

"My sweet, sweet Honey. You're not tired out are you?" he asked playfully as he crawled back up her body and kissed her so she could taste herself on his tongue.

"Not even close," she smiled up at him.

"Good," he smirked. "Because I'm not even close to finishing with you yet," He wrapped his arms around her waist and pushed them further up the bed.

Taehyung rolled them over so she straddled his waist and reached for her breasts, humming softly at the feel of her soft mounds against the palms of his hands. Honey leaned down to kiss him but stopped when he abruptly sat up and took one of her breasts into his mouth.

The pleasurable sensation made Honey throw her head back, her hair cascading down her back as she basked in the way he sucked on her nipple and flicked his tongue back and forth over the sensitive nub. She was lost in a haze of her own lust but still wanted him to be just as worked up as she was, her hips whined at a careful pace against his bare crotch and Honey grinned when she felt the vibrations of him moaning against her skin. Although he would love to keep toying with her, working her up until she could barely say his name; the ache between his legs was becoming much too insistent for him to ignore.

So for the second time that night, Taehyung rolled them over so that Honey was on her back before grabbing both of her hands and pinning them above her head. He settled himself between her legs and teased the tip of his cock up and down her slit. They both moaned together as he pushed into her, her walls gripping him tightly as she took him inch by inch. He kissed her neck, and she exhaled several breathless pants, her hands flexing against his until he finally released his grip on wrists, allowing her to loop her arms around his neck and pull him closer.

Her ankles locked behind him and Taehyung moaned an "Oh, God" as her action pulled him deeper inside of her,  his hips instinctively picking up the pace making Honey beg him not to stop.

They filled the room with their moans, gasps and whimpers. Honey could feel the beginnings of her orgasm tremor inside her as her walls clenched tighter around Taehyung's cock. He pounded into her relentlessly, stirred on by the vice grip she had around him and as his hand slips between their bodies to vigorously stroke her clit Honey is finally pushed over the edge. Her eyes screwed closed and her body convulsed in small frequent spasms as an intense wave of pleasure that overcomes her.

The feeling of Honey exploding around him made Tae lose what little control he had stored away and he slammed into her at a frantic pace. Still in the throes of her release Honey spreads her legs wider to accommodate his frenzied thrusts until he too is taken over by an intense orgasm.

Still half-hard, Tae pulls out of her out of breath and practically glowing as he gazed down at the beautiful woman he was so proud to call his and she looked up at him with the same lazy and satisfied grin spread across her lips. A grin that fell into a small chuckle as she glances over his body, immediately noticing that he was still up and rearing to go once more. Without words Taehyung swiveled his finger and motioned for Honey to turnover, which she did without complaint; moving to lie on her stomach and rest her chin on her forearms. He eased her hair to the side and pressed his lips to the base of her spine, trailing kisses all the way up to her neck and then back down again. His muscular hands massaged her, moving from her neck down to her back and stopping at the curve of her ass making the raven-haired beauty beneath him moan at his touch.

Each soft whimper and moan that fell from her lips as he touched her only stirred up his desire for her even more, by the time his hands have caressed every inch of Honey’s body he is stiff and ready for her again. Not wanting to waste any time he pulled her back against him, lowering her onto him inch by inch until he's completely engulfed by her walls. She's still drenched for him and it barely takes more than a few deep and precise thrusts into her inviting heat before he's bottoming out again, groaning her name with pleasure as he empties himself within her walls. He grins when Honey grabs his free hand and slips it between her legs. His fingers soaked the moment he touches her and he knows that this won't last very long.

His name tumbled from her plump lips for the third time that afternoon and Honey knew that all hope of her finishing any of her work was no longer possible. She didn’t mind, however, as she crawled out of Taehyung's lap and he pulled her into his arms right away, kissing every inch of skin available to him. Chest to chest and legs entangled together, they exchange light and tender kisses as Taehyung gingerly runs his fingers over her hair and they whisper overly cheesy compliments to each other before the pull of sleep calls Tae and he's yawning and nodding off making Honey grin and press a kiss to his cheek before cuddling up against his chest. Honey loved being with Tae for many reasons; he was an attentive, generous lover who was never hesitant about trying something new but if she was honest, she would have to admit that this had always been her favourite part of their lovemaking. The quiet after the storm when they're both completely spent and wrapped up in one another both physically and mentally, discussing whatever asinine topic popped into their heads. 

It didn't take much longer for her eye's to grow heavy and eventually shut down completely; she tried to fight it knowing that she had work to complete but three orgasms nearly back to back would take a lot out of anyone. It's well after midnight when Honey feels her skin being caressed and a pair of lips touching the space of her neck next to her shoulder.

"Tae, go back to bed" She grumbled and blindly swatted at the pair of hands in her hair, making the owner of those hands chuckle softly, pull back and press his lips against hers.

"Wrong boyfriend."

"Joonie?" Honey mumbled and cracked one of her eyes slightly open, She was met with the sight of Namjoon smiling at her with a dopey grin that made his dimples grow deep. It had been years since he'd first smiled at her like that and it still filled her with warmth inside whenever he did. "What time is it. Are you just getting home?"

"It's late," Namjoon nodded as he stood up to shuck the windbreaker he was wearing off his shoulders, he let fall to the ground and quickly moved to unbuckle his belt, "I got caught up at work, I tried calling both of you but no one picked up." He seasoned his words with a playful judgemental look while kicking his jeans off his feet and joining Honey underneath the sheets. The size of the California King bed was large enough to accommodate all three of their bodies with some space left over though throughout the middle of the night Honey usually ended up sleeping directly on top of one of them to conserve warmth while the other (usually Tae) hogged the covers.

Honey grinned and draped her arm over Namjoon once he settled next to her, her head and upper body moved to rest against her chest making Taehyung; who was still cuddled against her back, stir and shift positions but not wake up. "Ah, yes. Well, I've been writing most of the day and when Tae came home we got a bit distracted..."

Namjoon chuckled and ran a hand down Honey's side, pausing for a second to gentle squeeze her thigh before turning his head to the side "He's a poor influence on you."

"You think you're any better?" Honey countered with a sly grin. Their eyes met and like moths are drawn to a flame they both gravitated toward each other and shared a silent but tender kiss, it was late and there was no way they'd be able to do anything without waking up Taehyung who was still snoring peacefully on the other side of the bed. Namjoon was the first to pull back and gently caress Honey's cheek, drawing her head down so he could kiss her forehead and then press her head back to his chest.

"You should get some sleep, Honey," He breathed, his thumb and index finger massaging her neck.

Honey only nodded, quickly pressing a kiss to Namjoon's jaw before settling completely against him and allowing the heavy blanket of slumber to wash over her once again.

[regardingseas]

Title: Echoed Vexations (Part two)

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Rating: Teen and up audiences (violence warning)

AO3: here! (Full story at once)

•••

(PART ONE)

Beginning, summary, and warnings can be found there. Story continued under the cut.

•••

He regretted it instantly.

Catching sight of the white abyss behind Their eyes, the sanctions of his mind found themselves entangled in the monster's clutches. They weren't physically there, but he could feel them all the same-- tendrils like snakes burrowing into his brain, parasitic vermin that rooted themselves into his very core with a vice-like hold. He'd thrash, or fight, but that only ever ended in the pain spiking from a ten to an eleven, proven by the past, and again by Cub's screams of anguish as Scar barely bit back his sobs.

His thoughts echoed in his skull, looping over themselves as the Vex listened in like safe-crackers. He wanted not to think, not to have a single notion cross his mind, but an infinite number of processes scrambled through at once no matter what he tried.

Not being able to defend himself against such beings was humiliating in its own right. Rationally, he knew They were far more powerful than the average human, and a group of Them was nothing to sneeze at when they got serious. The Vex were a corrupt and cruel species who enjoyed little more than acquisitive riches and making others suffer, but as much as he was aware of that, it didn't make being beaten down by something an eighth of his size any less demeaning.

With that train of thought, Scar's auditory input from the outer world was replaced by ringing-- blood seeping out from his ears and from his nose not long after. The taste of copper was bitter on his tongue, mixing with the salt of tears and bile that had risen in his throat.

We're nothing but small, cruel, and materialistic? The concordats forget themselves so...

They will learn from this, mistakes make for better humans.

I think they've forgotten who they belong to.

He dared to think he didn't belong to Them, that he was his own, not even of his own accord, and still his air was cut off. His arms gave out next and he crumbled to the side, gagging on red and trembling as waves of pain crashed over his body. Scar gasped, but his lungs refused to fill, leaving him grasping at his throat and pleading internally.

Do you remember now?

One of Them, or maybe all of Them, had asked.

Do you remember our deal? Do you remember the emblem we burned into your skin when you agreed to join us?

I remember, he begged in his mind, I remember. I'm sorry. Please don't kill me, I'm so sorry. I belong to the Vex. I'm sorry.

Horrid laugher overtook his senses, and a feeble rush of air filled his chest before his consciousness began to fade.

You will never escape us.

They finalized, and his world went dark like the drawing of velvet curtains.

------

Back in the present, flashes of that day and many others raced through his head as if to mock his phobia of thinking itself. It was almost akin to watching his past unfold in third person, like he'd been detached from his body during the events. Bleary yet potent reenactments of metal patterns searing his flesh, of his bones shattering, of gashes and bruises and the life fading from his eyes. All the times he was made to expand their trade, slaving endlessly until his hands were stiff and immobile from overuse, but it still not being enough for Them. Annexing the rest of the industry, becoming number one, having two humans as their play things. Nothing was, or ever would be, enough for the Vex.

Scar's nails raked up his arms as he tried to feel anything other than Their coils invading his brain, doing all he could to reason with himself that they weren't real, for the logical part of him knew they weren't. His hands grasped for the brand ingrained into the flesh of his shoulder blade, fingers feverishly grazing over the risen tissue to find the divot and remind himself that the seal had been severed. His time with them was over. The symbol was broken.

"I'm- I'm safe..." he recited, "I'm away, I'm free, I'm okay…"

The words were more of a finding of his voice than a real reassurance, and Scar fumbled to pull his communicator from his pocket, aware of how much he needed to contact a proper support system. Tears blurred the screen, making the already jumbled letters more difficult to make out, but he managed to gather the necessary information.

He could call for Cub, but the man was away, and even if the notification were to alert him, such an event was likely to jump-start evocations of his own traumas.

Xisuma was available, but he didn't want to pester the already busy admin with his troubles anymore than he'd had to before. The kind man had already spent countless time and energy ensuring that they were all safe inside of the world barrier; a field in which no Vex could enter on Their own, nor abuse Their power if They were to be deliberately summoned by a rogue party. Admin magic, he was thankful for it to the nth degree, but he currently needed a real person in his presence more than anything.

Scar scanned the remaining names on his monitor. There was only one other Hermit who knew about what he'd been through, and he was practically imploring him to be around.

Grain.

There he was!

Scar would've sobbed in relief weren't he already weeping, left struggling to type out a private message to his friend.

<GoodTimeWithScar> Grian are you avaiavble?

<GoodTimeWithScar> i need your help, i'm at Mumbo's base

<GoodTimeWithScar> my base? i don't know, the monument

<Grian> sure am! whatcha need help with?

Scar's thumbs danced awkwardly above the keyboard, grappling with himself over what to say. It was always a struggle to express his troubles in the midst of panic, especially when doing so was a part of the problem. He knew he didn't have to go into depth with the other Hermit, however. That was another benefit of them being aware of one another's history; they didn't need to spill their guts in order to receive a helping hand.

<GoodTimeWithScar> i just need someone here

<GoodTimeWithScar> i can't seem to calm muself down right now

<GoodTimeWithScar> or type out messages poperbly it seems?

<GoodTimeWithScar> haha dang

<Grian> i'll be right there

<Grain> i'm at zedaph's cave, so the distance is a little further than usual, but you know i'm a fast flier

<Grain> so just hang tight, scar

<GoodTimeWithScar> i'm not going anjwhere

Scar dropped his hands to his side with a shaky breath, flinching when a sudden softness brushed against his hand. He glanced down only to see a concerned looking Jellie, the cat purring softly and nuzzling his arm. He cracked a feeble smile and reached out to pet behind her ear, her very presence providing a degree of comfort.

Much to his surprise, it truly wasn't long before the telltale beating of wings thumped through the air, Grain landing expertly in the grass and folding his feathered pinions snug behind his back.

"Scar?" he asked, cautiously approaching the other man.

Scar looked up to him, managing to raise a hand and wave as a greeting. Still wrought with trepidation, his shaking arms were scored with scratches he'd unconsciously inflicted while attempting to ground himself. Tear tracks lined his cheeks and his hair had become an unkempt mop, but he'd pulled through the worst of it.

"Oh, dude…" Grian said sympathetically, stepping over the rest of the way and crouching by his side. "It's alright, I'm here."

He nodded slow, "Thanks, Gri…"

The avian returned the nod and extended his hand, allowing Scar to take hold of it as a reminder of his security. "It's no problem. I see Jellie showed up to help, too."

"Yeah," Scar chuckled humourlessly, "She can always tell when I'm upset…"

"She's good like that," Grain confirmed, earning a well timed meow from the feline beside them.

They both let out a small laugh, Scar's being far weaker but present nonetheless.

"How about we get you away from all this noise and take care of those scratches?" Grain asked, and the other Hermit nodded again.

He helped Scar to his feet, leading him away from the distant thundering of the base's heart. They departed from the heights of the ruins, Grain ushering Scar to settle down against a tree once they were out of earshot of all the clamour.

"Let me see your arms, 'kay? I'll fix them right up."

Scar held out his scored arms after a moment of hesitation, finding them still stinging with the red drag of nails.

Grain produced a potion and gauze from his inventory, pouring the thick blue liquid onto the cotton before dabbing it across the irritated skin. A cool numbness spread over the area, and Scar relaxed at the alleviation of his symptoms. People often overlooked Mundane potions due to them having no official use, but anyone suffering from a mild ailment could tell stories of just how practical its effects could be. From soothing scrapes or minor burns, all the way to settling stomach aches or migraines, they could work little wonders. A Mundane potion for mundane problems.

"Better?" Grain asked.

"Much… thank you. Sorry for making you fly all the way over here."

"No, no, don't apologize, it's no big deal," he assured, motioning to brush off his concerns. "I needed to get out of that cave anyway. Not to bash on Zed's decorating skills, because the gadgetry is amazing, but the rest is all nonsense and greys and belch-- it was making my head spin."

Scar nodded, but couldn't help the guilt that crept into his chest, eyes darting to the side as if in anticipation for the hostility he sensibly knew would never come.

Grain smiled tenderly and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "I mean it, it's no trouble. Besides, you'd do the same for me. Geez, man, you have!"

"I guess you're right," Scar agreed, turning once more to face the winged man. It wouldn't be the first time either Hermit had coaxed the other down from a panic, for not only had Grain been there for him in the past, but vice versa as well.

Most recently, he could recall, someone had led a bundle of animals into the blond's mansion as a prank. Such a feat was usually harmless fun, as was the case with the challenges they'd created wherein a herd of chickens were set loose in the same manner. The problem, however, arose when the trickster wanted to break the chain of stunts involving birds, and instead released a colony of rabbits into the manor's grounds. It was intended to be innocuous, but to say it hadn't ended well would be making a molehill out of a mountain.

Mumbo and the baffled prankster themselves had immediately volunteered to clear the animals from the house, whereas Scar stayed with Grain at the man's starter base until the mansion was deemed clear, and he was able to find resolve. It had been a long day for them all, but Grain especially. He'd mostly adapted to seeing hares in the wilderness, but finding himself in an enclosed space with dozens of the creatures sent him spiraling. Scar had been told tales of a man named Sam; a heinous individual with ears of a rabbit, who despite the innocent appearance, caused Grain immense suffering.

He's from a chapter in my story that I'd much rather leave behind, Grian once said, I have a far better future to write now, anyway.

That last line always stuck with Scar, no matter how much time passed after he heard it. There were brighter eras ahead, they just had to move forward and stick around to see them. In the end, he of all people could respect wishing to leave one's past as just that. The past. Even so, he'd probably still deck that Sam character given the chance.

"Of course I am," said Grain abruptly, and Scar blinked back to the present after an internal game of catch-up to remember what they'd been speaking of to begin with.

Nodding and smiling faintly, he asked, "So, what are you doing for the rest of your free time?"

The Brit grinned in turn and ruffled his wings, "Well, my schedule is actually rather jam-packed. I'm spending the rest of the day with a friend who's in quite the pickle."

Scar raised his eyebrows, pointing towards himself, "Is it me? Am I in the pickle?"

Grian laughed, "Yes, my briney bro, you are. And I'm determined to stay by your side until you're feeling better again."

Thankful, Scar smiled as well, knowing it would do no good to feel remorseful for taking up his companion's time, or to try and convince him he would be fine on his own.

"Thank you, Grain," he said truthfully.

"Anytime," he replied, "Now let's find something nice calm to do."

"Now those are words I never thought I'd hear you say."

The two chuckled and made their way off, ready to waste the rest of the afternoon in a mellow rhythm to starve off any further panic. Scar knew he'd likely feel off for a while, not fully himself again until at least the following day. The lingering tension of his episodes always latched to his nerves and left him on edge, but he knew the company of an understanding friend would lessen the blow. They'd spend the coming hours in a tense yet manageable tandem, and to some degree, Scar could accept that.

He was still learning to trust the fact he was safe, no matter how much he already wished to embrace his freedom with open arms. Eventually, one day, maybe, he could believe it entirely, or at least to more ample extent. Until then, it was gradual steps forward on the road to recovery.

Grain skipped beside him, cracking light-hearted jokes laced with reassuring phrases, all made to help lift Scar's aching mood.

Wherever it was that road led, however, at least he wasn't walking it alone.

[END]

Comments are always greatly appreciated! More than you could imagine, in fact! 💚

[httpjeon]

❝ make me hot ❞ pjm ― m.

― summary:

you messed up a presentation in front of your boss. he calls you up to his office.

ceo!jimin/reader | ceo!au | smut | 2.3k ↬ content warnings: dirty talk, blow job, cunnilingus, orgasm denial/edging, DADDY KINK, forced orgasm, multiple orgasms, squirting

a/n: this is a gift to my best friend @kinktae for her birthday which was january 14th. this fic was made to her wishes and specifications!

→ blog masterlist

Your hands trembled as you sat at your desk, running over the way you completely fucked that presentation up. Normally, you wouldn't mind about a little mistake but it was much a different circumstance this time.

Park Jimin, the CEO of the company you worked at had personally sat in on the meeting.

While you worked in the headquarters, where Jimin's office was located, you'd only really seen the man a handful of times. One thing you did know about him was that he was the most stunning man to ever grace this Earth. Also, every time you ran into him, he looked at you as if you were a piece of meat. Usually a man staring at you like this would disgust you but there was something about the dark lust in his eyes as he licked his plump, pink lips at the sight of your tight pencil-skirt you wear to work.

The 2 times you've been ordered to go to his office, they weren't pleasant experiences. You had messed up on filling out some forms and had been called to his office where he sat on his desk in front of you with his sleeves rolled up, looking delicious. He had spoken to you in a low, belittling voice that had your whole body heating up under his condescending gaze.

It made you feel quite unprofessional -- soaking your panties because your boss treated you like that.

"Miss. _____, Park Jimin would like to see you in his office right away," A tall girl named Rose, Jimin's secretary, said as she approached your desk.

Immediately, your heart was racing and and a pit settled in your stomach. It was lunchtime now, which meant you'd be missing your lunch break to get chewed out by your hot boss. By the time you reached the executive floor, it was mostly silent aside from your heels clicking down the gleaming white floor.

The big golden plaque with Jimin's name was mocking you, letting you know that you were about to have to sit through him belittling you with soaked panties. The desk where Rose would be sitting was empty; clearly went on lunch after getting you to come up here. Your whole body was trembling as you knocked on the door, the sound echoing down the empty hallway.

"Enter," Jimin commanded from inside and you hurried to push the heavy door open.

As it slammed shut behind you, you were standing in the open room staring at Jimin. He was sitting at his desk, mindlessly typing away on his desktop. He was wearing the same suit he had been at the meeting, though his tie was loosened a bit now as he had been relaxing in his office.

"Mister-"

"I'll be with you in a moment," He interrupted, motioning you to take a seat in one of the plush chairs in front of his desk.

The room was washed in complete silence, save for the rhythmic clicking of Jimin's keyboard. Your leg bounced nervously, fidgeting as you looked around his room just waiting for him to be done making you wait.

"Nervous, Miss. _____?" He asked, and your eyes jumped to him to find that he was now leaning back in his desk with a smirk on his lips.

"I...um..." You were at a loss for words but didn't need to search long as he suddenly stood up, pulling off his blazer and draping it over the back of his chair.

"I assume you know why you’re here," He carefully rolled his sleeves up his forearms, making you lick your lips at the sight. He sat on the edge of his desk, balancing his weight on just one leg as he looked down at you.

"Yes Sir, I do," You admitted, fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

"Good, how about you tell me what you did then, how you made a fool of my company in front of Kim Namjoon,"

There it was.

That belittling, condescending tone.

"I-I...I messed u-up the...uh...the s-statistics, Sir," You whispered, avoiding eye contact with him. He wasn't having any of it, gripping your chin and making you look up at him. He was smirking, dragging his tongue over his pretty pink lips. You inhaled sharply, swallowing thickly as you were forced to stare at his pretty face.

"Say that again, sweetheart," He chuckled, making your face heat up immediately.

"I," You cleared your throat, speaking clearer at his sharp gaze. "I messed up the statistics Sir,"

"That's right," He sighed, letting your chin go but you could feel as if his grip had burned you. "How will you make it up to me?"

"I...I don't know Sir?" Jimin stood up once again, loosening his tie some more which nearly took your breath away.

"I know you find me attractive, babygirl," He whispered,

The pet name had you nearly fainting, having to clench your thighs at the rush of arousal that flowed through you.

"Isn't that right?"

"Yes," You breathed, shivering when he crouched beside where you sat in the chair. His hair, a soft blonde, looked so bouncy and pretty that you wanted so badly to touch it.

"If you want to stop, you can just tell me, yeah?" You nodded, feeling your breathing beginning to pick up as he got to his feet once again. "Then how about you be a good girl and take my cock in your pretty mouth, huh?"

Your brain nearly short-circuited at those dirty words, already feeling the thin cotton of your panties ticking to your core from how wet you were. With deft fingers, he unbuckled his belt, and unbuttoned them to pull his cock from the confines of his expensive slacks. You were positively salivating at the sight of him already hard, wrapped in his fist as he languidly touched himself until a pearly drop of precum dripped down the head.

He opened his mouth, perhaps going to ask you if it was okay, before you surged forward and took the head of his cock into your mouth. He choked on his breath, releasing his cock in favor to lacing his fingers through your hair as you took him deeper into your mouth.

"You dirty girl," He growled, tightening his grip in your hair as you took him deeper until he was nudging past your gag reflex. He felt you choke slightly before you relaxed and whimpered at the feeling of him holding your hair so aggressively.

"That's a good girl," He cooed, slowly beginning to rock his hips into your mouth while keeping his eyes on your face.He could see that tears were filling up your eyes every time he sunk into your throat. "Look at you sucking my cock so well, being so good to make it up to me,"

You whimpered, gazing up at him through your lashes; you clenched your thighs together as a rush of arousal made your skin tingle. Jimin seemed to notice how you were clenching your thighs together as he grinned, eyes dark and lustful. His cock throbbed on your tongue and you did your best to swallow the precum that was pooling in your mouth -- not that you minded, he tasted rather good.

"Is the dirty girl wet?" He growled, chuckling darkly when you nodded and whimpered around his cock. "How about you let Daddy eat your little cunt, hm?"

He pulled you off his cock, leaving you panting and licking your lips to clean up any spit or precum left on your lips. Helping you stand up, he lifted you to sit on the desk. You were so turned on by this point that you couldn't even think to be embarrassed over the fact you were about to let your insanely hot boss eat you out on his desk.

He hiked your dress up, pushing it up to your hips to expose your panties, so wet that the material could no longer stop your juices from reaching your thighs. He chuckled, making you face heat up before he yanked the material down with ease, tossing it over his shoulder. Then he was leaning down, pinning your thighs open so your cunt was completely exposed to his greedy tongue.

The second his lips were on you, you knew that Park Jimin was a god with his mouth; gazing up at you through sweaty blonde bangs as his tongue circled your little bud. Your hips jumped from the stimulation, muffling your cries of pleasure as he tirelessly tasted everything you had to offer him.

"So fuckin' good, baby," He groaned, licking a fat stripe up your folds to collect the leaking, oozing cream on his tongue to savor your sweetness.

"Oh god," You whined, reaching down to grip his hair similar to how he had done to you.

As an afterthought, you realized how soft his hair was before he quickly let go; you probably shouldn't be tugging on your boss's hair like that.

"It's okay, baby," He whispered, detaching his lips from your clit for a second to grab your hand and place it back into his hair. "You can touch me all you want,"

Your grip tightened over his hair as he resumed eating you out like his life depended on it. His grip on your thighs prevented you from closing them as the stimulation quickly became too much -- you were close to your orgasm. However, before you could even voice this realization to the man between your legs, he stopped.

"Sorry baby," He chuckled at your whine. "I don't want you to cum unless it's all over me cock,"

"Fuck, please," You whimpered, sitting up on your elbows to watch as he pulled his belt out of the loops. You could feel your cunt pulse around nothing as he undid the first few buttons of his shirt, which you now noticed was sticking to his body from how he had been sweating.

"You want it, sweetheart?" He cooed, wrapping his fist around his cock again, languidly smearing the precum down the shaft.

"Yes please!" You begged, pulling him closer once he was close enough to touch.

Instead of entering you, however, he simply ran the fat head between your folds, teasing your entrance before lightly slapping at your bud with his cock. Your hips jumped and you whined at the teasing stimulation after being denied an orgasm just moment ago.

"Yes please..?" As you opened your eyes, you were met with a shit-eating smirk on Jimin's pretty face. It didn't take you even a moment to realize what he wanted from you. You almost wanted to deny him, to make him beg you to hear the word fall from your lips, but when he used to head of his cock to slap your clit again, you knew you couldn't hold it back.

"Please Daddy,"

Jimin groaned, immediately sliding into your cunt; you were so wet and ready that you hadn't even needed prep to take him. A lewd, wet sound filled the room every time he sunk into you, coating his cock so generously in your juices.

"God, what a tight little cunt you have baby," He growled, grabbing yoru hips and yanking you down so you were now on the very edge of the desk, providing him more room to fuck you. "It's my cunt now though isn't that right?"

"Fuck yes Daddy," You wailed, digging your nails into the luxurious mahogany wood as he managed to find your g-spot with terrifying ease.

"That's my good girl," He sighed, pausing to grind against you, catching your clit easily in the process.

"Y-You're gonna make me cum, Daddy," You sobbed, now throwing all caution to the wind in panting out the title he seemed to love so -- you could feel his cock throb inside you when you uttered the word.

"Yeah?" He chuckled, resuming a calm pace this time as he fucked you. This time his thumb found your clit, rolling the hard little bud under his finger to make you positively explode. Your thighs trembling, eyes rolled back into your head as you came hard around his cock. Through the pounding in your ears you could register Jimin whispering dirty praises to you telling how good you squeeze his cock and how pretty you are when you cum.

"W-Wait," You sobbed as Jimin stopped his calm, level pace in favor of a much more brutal pace. His thumb was still poised over your clit, threatening to touch the sensitive bud but not doing it quite yet.

"You're gonna cum again, little slut," He growled, not even faltering in his pace as you sobbed and clung to his shirt now.

"P-Please," You choked, not even aware of what you were begging for.

"More? You want more, baby?" He chuckled, a sadistic warning before his thumb was on your clit again.

You keened, eyes rolling back once again as you wailed. You grappled at his hand, the feeling of him fucking you so well, abusing your g-spot while circling your clit was too much for your sensitive body. Soon, you were falling into yet another orgasm -- this one much more brutal.

"Fuck, baby!" Jimin cried, suddenly sinking in as deep as he could before cumming. You could feel him filling you up, hot and thick inside your still-spasming cunt.

As you came to, you were greeted with nothing but wetness splattered along both of your bodies. Your face nearly burst into flames at the mess, making Jimin chuckle.

"Lunch is almost over, we better clean up before Rose returns," He muttered, making you laugh.

Well, you fucked your boss and now you had no idea what you were meant to do in the future. However, as Jimin used a little bit of tissue to help dry your skin, you couldn't help but smile.

© httpjeon 2019. do not repost or modify.

[cherryrogers]

Drunk.

Loki x Fem!Reader

Contains: Fluff, minor cat-calling.

Synopsis: The best part of being drunk? Being taken care of by the Norse god you’re lucky enough to call your boyfriend.

__________________________________________

It wasn’t often that you drank alcohol, but when you did, you didn’t waste any time getting completely hammered. Feeling the beat of the music in your chest at a nightclub and watching your friends have a good time just got you so pumped up. And soon enough, you were the one having the good time.

However, even in the midst of stupidly downing another shot and trying to dance in your unstable state, you couldn’t help but miss your boyfriend back at home. Loki didn’t like when you went out partying - and he made it very obvious. He’d childishly hide your makeup brushes and ‘accidentally’ misplace your shoes. It was the same thing every time - you’d get extremely irritated at him, and all he’d respond with was that frustratingly hot smirk. At this point, it’d kind of became your thing to be late to parties because of Loki’s antics.

The night always tended to end the same as well. A drunken text or call would inevitably find its way to Loki, and he’d be there in a flash to pick you up. Having you back home was the only thought on his mind the whole time you were out, and such a large relief for him as soon as you stepped through the front door.

And so, the point in the night came where your jittery fingers tapped aimlessly on the blurred keyboard of your phone, hoping that you could form something coherent to indicate to Loki that you wanted brought home. You swore you felt your phone vibrate after shoving it back into your bra, but you could barely lift your arms after being hit with a wave of exhaustion. Dizzily, you stumbled over to a bar stool and forced yourself upon it. Without a second thought, you rest your head in your arms against the cold surface of the bar, barely resisting the urge to shut your eyes.

You didn’t know how long you’d been out, but someone was shaking your shoulder gently and saying your name, and you reluctantly lifted your head up. Blinking repeatedly, your eyes adjusted as best as they could to the person standing over you, and an involuntary smile formed on your lips - it was Loki. Honestly, it was probably the best part of the night, when your boyfriend would show up and wrap his arms around you, taking you back to where you longed to be after a night of partying.

“Come on, gorgeous. Let’s get you home.” His soothing voice caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach, as you nodded lazily and attempted to push yourself off the bar stool.

Loki’s arm enveloped your waist, holding most of your weight as you made no effort to keep yourself upright. However, you were quick to wrap your arms around Loki’s neck and sloppily kiss his cheek.

“So happy to s-see you, Loki.” You slurred.

He let out a laugh, guiding you through the doors of the club. “Really? I can’t tell by the way you are practically strangling me.”

“Strangling you with loooove.” Your hand reached up to cup his face, turning him to look at you. For a moment, you literally got lost in his beautiful blue eyes, almost forgetting that you were going in to kiss him. Almost. Once you’d processed how insanely perfect your boyfriend was, it just made you want to kiss him harder; which you did.

Loki was about to question why you were staring at him for so long, until he felt your lips press against his. A familiar warm feeling coursed through his typically cold body as he held you close to him. He could taste the alcohol on your tongue, and was suddenly reminded of where you were - making out outside of a club at one in the morning.

The sound of whistling caused Loki to pull away from you, making you pout in disappointment. Your boyfriend’s eyes were directed towards a group men standing a couple of metres away, leaning drunkly against the wall of the club. He followed their lustful gazes, which were set on you. Your dress had ridden up your thighs, barely even covering the parts of you that definitely shouldn’t be on show.

While you rested your head in the crook of his neck obliviously, Loki shot the group of guys a menacing glare. He tended to come off as intimidating to, well, everyone. Everyone except you, obviously. The men noticed the threatening stare from your protective boyfriend, and the smirks that were playing in their lips instantly disappeared. They turned away from the direction of you both, and you tapped Loki’s chest impatiently, asking him to take you to the car.

Before he obliged, Loki reached to pull down your dress to an appropriate length, and then proceeded to lead you over to the car. He debated whether to sit you in the front or let you lie down in the backseat. However, the choice wasn’t really his as you yanked open the door to the backseat, climbing inside ungracefully. As soon as your head hit the fabric of the seat, you were ready to drift back to sleep again. That was until you caught Loki about to close the door, after moving your legs so that they weren’t hanging outside the car.

“Wait! Loki, don’t go.” You furrowed your brows sadly as Loki tried to suppress a chuckle.

Reassuringly, he placed his hand on your calf, leaning inside the car. “I will just be in the front seat, love. I have to drive.”

“But it’s cold as frick back here.” Loki rolled his eyes at you dramatically sticking your bottom lip out, but didn’t hesitate to take off his leather jacket and rest it over your body. You grinned, pulling the large jacket up to your chin and sighing contently at Loki’s scent being prominent on the material.

You didn’t even realise where you were when the car pulled up outside your apartment building. The sound of the car door opening again didn’t phase you, and you felt a hand softly pushing strands of your hair out of your face.

“We’re almost home, (Y/N), then you are free to sleep for as long as you would like.”

“Imma sleep in here. Don’t wanna move.” Your voice was muffled under the leather jacket and you hadn’t even reopened your eyes.

“Darling, you just have to make it to the elevator. I will even carry you if it makes the process quicker.” It was hard to say no to being carried back to your apartment by your boyfriend, and that’s why you instantly made your best efforts to sit up, still clutching on tightly to his jacket.

Loki went to put his hands under your knees when you pushed them away, making him raise his brows at you questioningly. “Piggyback?Pleeeaaase?”

Of course, Loki couldn’t deny you of a piggyback when you were staring up innocently at him, your arms reaching out in front of you like a child. “If it means you will leave the car, then fine.”

Grabbing his outstretched hand, you pushed yourself to stand on the pavement and slammed the car door shut behind you. As you looked at Loki expectantly, he reluctantly turned away from you, crouching down slightly. Without warning, you launched yourself onto his back, causing him to grunt and fall forward before he managed to steady himself. He hoisted you higher on his back, gripping your thighs securely.

You rested your head on his shoulder, occasionally turning to the side to peck his cheek as he carried you to the elevator. Once you were inside and Loki pressed your floor button, he turned to look up at you. “You’re lucky that I am utterly smitten with you, (Y/N). This may be a comfortable experience for you, but I can not necessarily say the same for myself.”

“I’ll give you a piggyback tomorrow, Loki. Then we’re even stevens.” You twirled one of his black locks with your finger absentmindedly while he laughed.

“I’m not sure that you would be physically capable of that, love. I appreciate the offer, though.”

“Maybe not, but I’m physically capable of doing some other things, if you’re picking up what I’m putting down.” You erupted with giggles, and Loki sighed, blushing slightly.

The elevator doors opened with a ding and both of you exited the small space. “I hope by that you mean climbing off my back and going to bed.”

Loki struggled to unlock your apartment door as you stayed clinging to his body, only holding you up with one hand. “Naaaah, I mean suck-”

“Don’t... finish that sentence. I know what you meant.”

Giggling uncontrollably again, you just wrapped your arms tighter around your boyfriend as he managed to open the door, taking you both inside and locking it again. He carried you through to your bedroom and stood facing away from the bed, waiting for you to detach yourself from him and fall back, but you don’t.

“Remember what we said about climbing off my back and going to bed? Could you... do that, darling?” Loki tapped your thigh, but you shook your head against his neck.

Pointing towards the bathroom, you groaned. “Need to do my skincare routine.”

“You are not being serious, are you?”

“Uh, I’m being deadass serious. Bathroom, please.”

“About three minutes ago you were literally asleep.”

“Well now I’m not!” You exclaimed. “Gonna get an acne attack if I go to sleep like this.”

With a deep sigh, Loki gave in. He knew it was useless trying to convince you otherwise, and he also knew how conscious you were of your skin. Skipping out on your skin routine was never an option for you, even when you were drunk.

A few minutes later, you were sat on the counter in the bathroom, watching Loki as he pulled everything out of your skincare bag and laid them next to you. He insisted on helping you out with your routine, because in your state, it’d take you until sunrise to finish it. “Okay, what’s first?”

“Wipes.” You picked up the pink packet next to you and handed it to Loki, who pulled out a wipe and put the packet back down. His hand rested on the side of your neck, pressing his thumb against your jaw and wiping off your makeup.

While he focused on the task, you couldn’t help but admire him. His bottom lip was bitten between his teeth in concentration, and his dark brows were knitted together slightly. Strands of his hair were stuck up out of place from you playing with it, and the jet black colour of his locks contrasted with his pale skin. Everything about him was beautiful in your eyes.

“You’re so pretty, do you know that?” You broke the comfortable silence with your sudden urge to compliment your boyfriend, who attempted to suppress a smirk.

“I’m not entirely sure pretty is an adjective I’d associate with myself.” Loki motioned for you to close your eyes so he could remove your eye makeup.

Shutting your eyes, you kept speaking. “You’re a pretty boy, Loki. My pretty boy.”

With your eyes closed, you couldn’t see Loki’s cheeks reddening and the involuntary smile on his face. “Always yours, my love.”

Once the pressure on your eyes had disappeared, you opened them again. You reached forward to wrap your arms around Loki, but he put his hands against your shoulders.

“No hugs until we are finished here. You demanded that this be done, and we are doing it as quick as possible, alright?”

Leaning back against the mirror, you sighed, leading Loki through the rest of your skin regime until it was finally done. As soon as all of your products were packed back into their bag, you threw your arms around Loki and squeezed him tightly. How many other gods would do their drunk, mortal girlfriend’s skincare routine for them at nearly two in the morning? Probably not a lot. You hoped Loki knew how much you appreciated him, if he couldn’t tell by the fact you were clinging to him like a koala.

After the both of you stripped off and were too lazy to put on proper pyjamas, you got into bed with just your underwear on and clung back onto your boyfriend. Nuzzling your head into Loki’s bare chest, you exhaled a breath of content.

“You know, for being the God of Mischief, you sure are a sweetheart.” You muttered, earning a quiet chuckle from Loki.

“Only for you, darling.”

“Oh, I see...” You smirked. “God of Mischief on the streets, God of Softness in the sheets.”

“Because you are intoxicated, I am going to act like those words did not just come out of your mouth.”

“Hmm... you do you, softie.”

-

Sequel: You’re Hungover, Darling.

[loverontheleft]

The Honeymoon One (5)

Masterlist

2.5k words

-||-

“There!” You point eagerly as your last pale Tiffany blue suitcase appears on the conveyor belt and Brendon walks the few steps to claim it. When he wheels it back over, you survey the two of you. “Two people. Five bags.” You grin. “Did we overpack?”

“Never,” Brendon declares, lifting your last bag onto the luggage trolley and shifting to grab the handles. “We’re just prepared for all circumstances.” He winks at you and you melt a little. “Wanna hop up? I’ll push you,” he says good-naturedly.

“As if I’d ever turn down a ride,” you scoff with a grin and clamber on top of the luggage. “To the cars!” You raise a fist triumphantly as Brendon pushes the trolley forward at a surprising pace, considering the weight you’ve added.

As promised, he’s got you quickly settled in a town car and the luggage is loaded in the trunk. He slides in beside you in the back and you reach for his hand. “Are you scared of town cars too?” He asks with a soft smile. You pull your hand back, realizing that the only excuse you had to hold his hand earlier was a fear of planes.

“No…” you say after a long moment, not meeting his eyes. You knew it. He’s just taking pity on you and you’ve just made a fool of yourself. The thought is ice in your veins and you shudder a little. “I just - it was nice. On the plane. Being touched.” You hear how lonely that sounds and your throat tightens with tears. No, you tell yourself firmly. You will not cry. You twist your fingers together in your lap and fall silent. Brendon looks like he doesn’t quite know what to do with that, and you shift a little to glance out the window and watch the scenery go by.

-||- POV Shift -||-

“I just - it was nice. On the plane. Being touched.” Her words hit you and you swallow hard, wishing more than anything you had the - what? Courage? Strength? Balls? To reach out and take her hand and pull her close against you and not let go. She’s not meeting your eyes now; she’s shifted to stare out the window and you’re kicking yourself for leaving her hanging like this. You’ve screwed up royally. You know it. She can’t even look at you now and you’re sitting here like an absolute idiot, not saying anything. You’ve already ruined it based on how she’s turned away from you - why say anything at this point? You’re wallowing in self-pity when it hits you. Fuck it, you think. Whether she remembers it or not, she was trying to climb in your lap to keep making out with you. That has to mean something on a subconscious level. Even if she’s unhappy with you now, even if she’s hurt now...you might be able to fix this. You should still tell her. You need to tell her.

“I liked it too,” you manage finally, your voice cracking almost imperceptibly. She cocks her head to one side as if she doesn’t believe you and you reach for her hand. “Can I?” You’re whispering and she allows you to untangle her fingers so you can take one of her soft hands in yours.

“You don’t have to be nice to me,” Y/n says in a flat voice, still not looking at you. She’s fixated on your hands instead. “You don’t have to-“ and she waves her free hand in the air and somehow you know exactly what she means.

“I’m not,” you say simply. “I mean - I’m not just holding your hand to be nice to you. I obviously want to be nice to you because you’re my best friend and I love you - as a best friend I mean.” You can feel the panic rising in your body and you shove it down desperately. “I don’t mean I love you in a romantic way because that would be -“ you can feel your palms getting sweaty and that definitely means she can too. You try to subtly take your hand back from hers but there’s no way to subtly do that. She flinches a little, releases your hand entirely, and shifts more toward the window. “No, Y/n- I mean -“

“It’s okay, Brendon.” That same flat, detached voice. You’ve fucked up again. You’re hurting her. It’s killing you.

“No, Y/n - look at me.” She doesn’t. “Please?” The desperation in your voice must get through to her because she finally twists in her seat to look at you. “Hi.” You try to crack a smile and she sighs. “I’m sorry. I - Y/n, I don’t know how to do this. We’ve been friends for so long and - I’m so scared to ruin what we have. But I can’t keep ignoring it because it’s going to drive me crazy if I do - I mean - damn it - I’m not making any sense!” You groan in frustration and close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Y/n, I like you.” The words leave your mouth and you realize how right they are. You feel suddenly at ease. At peace. You open your eyes and she’s staring at you, lips parted, eyes wide.

-||- POV Shift -||-

“Y/n, I like you.” He blurts it out and time seems to slow down. It’s honestly a head-rush; you’re mentally thrown off-kilter. He looks at you and you realize you’re just staring at him, slack-jawed.

“It’s - it’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” he says in a rush. “No pressure at all. Honestly. We can just pretend I didn’t say anything and - god I really hope I didn’t just ruin our friendship.”

You shake your head a little in efforts to clear your thoughts. “No. Wait. Stop talking.” You press two fingers to his lips to quiet him and he obediently falls silent. “I need to process what you just said to me. I need to think.” You look at him. “Don’t say anything. I really shouldn’t say anything either until I’ve thought this through, but I’m going to anyway, on the condition that you stay silent,” you warn him. He nods. “I have a crush on you.”

His whole face lights up but he stays quiet, not wanting to disturb your thought process. You fall back against the seat and close your eyes, trying to think. He’s doing the same, except he’s got a huge grin plastered across his face.

The rest of the car ride passes in silence. Internally though, your mind is in utter chaos. He likes you! His fiancée left him. So? He likes you! His fiancée just left him and he’s rebounding. She left like three months ago; if he was going to rebound, wouldn’t he have done it already? Not necessarily. He’s admitted he hasn’t been himself and he’s trying to be better. But he likes you! He wouldn’t rebound with you! How do you know? Oh. Well. We’ve been friends for so long that he wouldn’t - well, he said he didn’t want to ruin our friendship! Exactly. A rebound would definitely ruin your friendship. Ha! Which is why this isn’t a rebound. You don’t like the people you rebound with. You just - rebound and move on to someone you do like - right? Not always. Sometimes you make stupid mistakes. We wouldn’t be a stupid mistake though. How do you know?

You’ve stumped yourself and you whine a little in frustration. He looks at you curiously and you shake your head, not realizing you’d whined out loud. He bites his lip, levels a look that sends fire directly to your stomach, and remains quiet. That’s enough to start up the internal argument again.

And we’re off. Because stupid mistakes don’t look at each other the way he just looked at me. He looked at you like he wanted nothing more than to hear you make that same whining sound naked and under him. Exactly! That’s the exact recipe for a stupid mistake. Oh. Well shit. Yeah. How can you be so pure of heart and yet so dumb of ass?

Your internal argument ends as the car pulls up to the most beautiful hotel you’ve ever seen - all white stucco and gauzy curtains with gold detailing; you’re smitten. “Oh,” you breathe, looking at Brendon. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Yes,” he agrees, tipping the driver as he unloads your suitcases from the trunk and starts to take them inside. “It is.” Once all of the luggage is in the lobby, Brendon moves as if to take your hand, but hesitates. “We should go inside,” is all he ends up saying. You nod and follow after him. As he approaches the front desk, you watch the way people turn to look at him. Even dressed in his flight clothes, he’s gorgeous. There’s a flare of possession in your stomach and you take longer strides so when he reaches the desk, you’re beside him. You curl yourself into his side and he looks down, surprised. You smile and he softens, wrapping an arm around your waist. He introduces himself and checks in, and only when you nudge him and mouth a reminder does he turn back to the young woman at the desk and ask about changing the massage slot.

“Of course,” she says with a small smile. “Let me see what I can do.” She taps at a hidden keyboard and scans the screen quickly. “There is an opening this evening,” she informs you. “In - ah, 45 minutes. No other bookings tonight. Very private.” She looks up at you both. “Would that be acceptable?”

Brendon glances down at you and you nod. 45 minutes is just enough time to get to your room, unpack, and head to the spa. “It’s perfect,” he says gratefully. That settled, she passes over the key card and a bellhop offers to escort you to your villa. Impressed, you both follow him. “Can I talk, or are you still processing?” He grins at you; you blush faintly and tell him he can talk. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to this massage,” he says. You nod eagerly. “And it’s nice that the spa is beside the pool. The weather was gorgeous out and we’ll likely get to see the sunset.”

As the bellhop guides you up the walkway, you’re in awe of the view. Finally, he approaches a door and slides his key in. He steps back and lets you both walk through. “Oh my god,” you whisper. The room is huge, cream-colored, spacious with soaring rounded ceilings. It’s like they carved a huge cave that opens onto the horizon, you realize as you find yourself being drawn to the balcony. “Brendon, come look,” you call. The balcony is gorgeous and it slopes down into a private infinity pool. You’re in heaven. He tips the bellhop and comes to join you.

“Wow,” he murmurs, standing beside you. “It’s - that’s - phenomenal. They said the honeymoon suite had breathtaking views and - wow.” You nod wordlessly and he wanders to another part of the room. “Oh - come look at this!” He’s excited and you move quickly to catch up with him. You inhale sharply. “An indoor plunge pool,” is all he says and you’re both giddy, laughing and beaming at how incredible this room is. You feel like you did on your spring break during senior year when he booked a spontaneous trip to Vegas and spent way too much money on the hotel room. Even that pales in comparison though and you both fling yourselves down on the bed, in total awe. It’s when your body hits the cool sheets that you remember - this isn’t senior year; this is supposed to be his honeymoon and you’ve both just confessed to liking the other. The awkward tension is back and you curse yourself internally. He brushes your arm lightly to get your attention and you snap out of it. You look at him and he looks at you. “We have maybe 20 minutes before we have to head to the pool for our massages. Do you want to...talk?” He smiles a little and you feel the rush of anxiety start to crash over you. “No pressure,” Brendon says quickly. He must see it in your eyes.

“No, it’s okay,” you manage. “I- we can talk. We should talk.” It’s his turn to nod and you wait, watching him.

“I guess I should start by asking - well -“ Brendon hesitates. “I mean - do you remember the flight?” You give him a weird look and tell him of course you remember the flight. “All of it?” You falter. You don’t. When you shake your head, he winces a little and sighs. “Okay. Uh. So we were both a few drinks back, and you were all snuggled up against me and I wanted to kiss your forehead. But at the last moment,” he gestures feebly and you must look confused because he sighs again. “At the last moment, you sort of lifted your head and we- kissed.” Your eyes go wide. “And we didn’t just - it wasn’t one small kiss and then done,” Brendon continues. “It was pretty intense. We were - we were going at it pretty hot and heavy,” he admits. “You tried to climb into my lap. It was - it was - yeah...”

“Oh my god,” you moan, humiliated. You sink down onto the bed and cover your face with your hands. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry-“ you cut yourself off as you peek over your fingers and you see the expression on his face. “Oh. You’re not - you didn’t-“

“I didn’t mind,” Brendon confirms in a low voice. You watch him, eyes wide, and he smiles at you hesitantly before sitting on the edge of the bed beside you. “I said I wanted you before you tried to get in my lap. I definitely didn’t mind. We had some difficulty there and then - well. You were really tired. I asked you how drunk you were and you said you were pretty drunk, but when I pulled the blanket up over you and closed the window covering, you thanked me and called me Bunny.”

“So I was blacked out,” you groan, rolling over and pressing your face into the pillows. “That would explain why I have no memory of any of this. Dammit!” You shoot off the bed and stare at him. He blinks back at you as you pace a little and turn to him suddenly. “That’s why you were calling me Koloa. That’s why you were confused when I apologized for calling you Bunny - because I already had - and why you asked if I remembered-“

“Yes,” Brendon says simply. He runs a hand through his hair as he rolls onto his back. His shirt pulls up a little bit and his stomach is exposed and you whine involuntarily. He props himself up on an elbow and grins at you. “You good?”

“Uh huh,” you manage. Your mouth has gone dry and your heart is racing and every part of you is being drawn to him on the bed but you stand stock-still on the bleached wooden floor. “Why are you so calm?!” You’re staring at him incredulously and he just laughs. “Don’t laugh! Why are you laughing?!”

“Because,” he manages through peals of laughter as he sits up entirely, “I’ve made my peace with this. I know how I feel about you and I know what I want.” He registers your expression and he backs up. “That’s why I’m calm. Not why I’m laughing. I’m laughing because you’re adorable.” You stomp in frustration and he gestures at your foot. “See? Adorable.” He pats the bed next to him and you cross to perch beside him. “Y/n.” Brendon looks at you seriously.

“Brendon,” you echo in the same tone. He smiles and gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail in one hand before letting it fall.

“I like you.” His face is still serious and you blush. “I like when you blush too,” he adds. You press both hands to your face and he smiles, sensing that his compliments are making you feel awkward. “I’ll stop complimenting you. Should we head down to the pool for these massages?”

“Yes,” you agree. “I’ll let you lead the way,” you tell him, following after him happily when he turns to you.

“Come, come Koloa,” he says fondly. “We’ve got a sunset to watch and massages to enjoy.”

[fleurbastien]

✧･ﾟ(   persephone + jordan fisher + demiguy   ) 𝒎𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒂 !!  have you seen Bastien Lalande around ? they/he have/has been in kaos for fourteen months. the twenty-six year old is a botanist from martinique. people say they can be detached but maybe that’s not too bad ‘cause they can also be amicable. whenever i think of them, i can’t help but think of ((   a sunlit greenhouse, sand underfoot on a temperate beach, a streak of dirt smudged across the cheek    )).  ･ﾟ✧ 

Bio

Bastien Lalande was born and raised on the island of Martinique to Danielle and Henri Lalande. Their plan was to have a flock of children. Family was what they prized most in this world. They could imagine no happier future than peering out the window of their sizable family home and see kinds running through the grass, kicking back and forth a football. Their plans were abruptly thwarted. Between their first and third years of life, Bastien was too young to understand or remember the complications that Danielle experienced with having another child. How close she came to passing away after the third surgery. It was this near-death experience which prompted the couple to mutually agree on focusing raising Bastien, and to spare Danielle anymore physical and emotional pain. Despite their agreement, a fragment of Henri and Danielle died; their dreams shattered as though a rock had been thrown squarely into a mirror. Because of this, a seed was planted deep within their minds that, just maybe, if they hadn’t had Bastien, they would still have some semblance of future aspiration.

Life on Martinique was personal. Communal. Familial. Everyone said hello to one another as they passed. Honking was a sign of neighborly greeting, not irritation at the traffic. You can imagine that, growing up in this culture, Bastien became quite the socialite. They were charming, active, knowledgeable, and sportive. People loved seeing him skipping down the road on his way to school, and cheered him on as captain of the Yole Sailing team. He was the picture of stability, as his parents’ world was on the decline. Running a cafe was difficult with a staff of three, and even harder when you had to run operations at the age of thirteen. There were days when he was in charge of opening and closing procedures, and some days more during which he would have to miss school in order to help out at the shop. Bastien was growing to resent the positions into which he was thrust. He was convinced that he should be out enjoying his life, not toiling under responsibilities which should not be his own. A heavy weight began to oppress his shoulders. His personality began to dampen, despite his best efforts. What was worse, he didn’t let on to the community that he was struggling. He felt that, for the sake of dignity (or some other noble reason), he had to keep private the fact that his parents were no longer fit to care for him.

After several years, a poetic path appeared. A divergence of destiny. Bastien could travel halfway across the world and attend the University of Hawaii at Manoa, or they could continue looking after their parents, who severely needed their help. The decision sent the youngling into a depressive state. He knew his dreams lay at the other side of that graduation stage in Hawaii, but he also knew that there was no real choice; he had to stay for his parents, despite their contentious relationship. Danielle was fatigued more often than not, and if Bastien couldn’t anticipate her needs, she would find it in her energy to berate him (putting it kindly). At that point, Henri had enough of a reason to despise Bastien. Not only did his son take away three more children from him, but contributed to the heartbreak and physical condition of his beloved as well. It was at this important crossroads that Bastien’s behavior altered radically, deviating from his usual sunny disposition. As it happened, nothing went unnoticed by his extended family for long. By and by, upon discovering his dilemma, they practically made the decision for him. They would take care of his parents and send him off to college.

Sparing unnecessary details of Bastien’s college life, he obtained an undergraduate degree in biology, and went on to get his Master’s degree in Botany from the very same school. His intelligence and charisma had his professor’s hooked, and it was easy for him to be admitted to the PhD program there. His advising professor won a grant from the NSF and was further funded by the university to conduct a field school on the island of Kaos in Greece. Before applications even opened, the professor had made his decision, for the only name that jumped into his mind for a field assistant was none other than Bastien Lalande.

The two, along with four undergraduates, have been on the island for just over a year, doing extensive research on Mediterranean vegetation. Bastien is using this opportunity to develop his doctoral research, simultaneously writing his dissertation. Weekdays, Bastien can be found in the field and in the lab, running soil samples, or peering into microscopes. On the weekends, he clacks away at his keyboard, synthesizing as much information as possible. When he finds free-time, or needs to clear his head, he loves swimming, or sailing if he can find a boat.

Running into Bastien, one would encounter a shining smile, a charming accent, and hospitality that would make you feel as though you knew him for an eternity. He might invite you on a hike, or show you a greenhouse. It is rare to catch him without a flower tucked behind the ear. However, if one truly tried to dig deeper beneath the surface than the charisma that he emanates, they might find that there isn’t much they actual know about Bastien, as if all information on his deep, honest thoughts have been entombed far beneath the ground.

Although they miss the Caribbean islands, they feel something deep in the pit of their stomach which anchors them to Kaos. A lifetime’s worth of knowledge sits at their feet in Greece. It would take all of their willpower to turn away from it.

Headcanons

very much “gerry durrell” from the durrels in corfu vibes

if you havent seen it i recommend

but instead of being obsessed with animals hes obsessed with plants

very smiley, outgoing, charismatic, loves chatting with strangers as long as the questions dont get too personal

A-1 athlete, can swim until the cows come home

flower aesthetics galore. he likes to draw flowers, wear flowers (prints and real flowers, ofc), and grow flowers in his window sills and from hanging pots

are u french ? he will speak french to u if so

underneath, hes a lil moody. his parents began to blame him for his mother’s health complications. they wanted a family so badly that they kinda alienated their only child

he loves loves loves martinique but dreads going back to that life that was hard, tortuous even

writes to his family to make sure everyone is okay, but doesnt talk to anyone on kaos about it

kinda wonders if he should blame himself for complications ?

can be found lying in the dirt contemplating his woes. or singing. or singing because of his woes.

you honestly cant be a fan of botany without developing a relationship with bugs. in this case, bastien l o v e s them. even the scary ones

Insp

click the link !

Playlist

orange trees  -  marina 

le monarque des indes  -  pierre lapointe

be my baby  -  the ronettes

harvest moon  -  neil young

sweet creature  -  harry styles 

at last  -  etta james

buttercup  -  hippo campus

semaphore  -  requin chagrin

home again  -  first aid kit

motivation  -  normani

dream a little dream of me  -  doris day

[itsanerdlife]

Mistakes Made 19/30

Pairing: Peter  Parker x Reader

Warning: Self doubt. Violence. Anger. Back stabbing. Lying. Arguing. Separation. Blood. Law breaking. Cat Fights. Stalking. A lot of anger. Team fighting. Feelings of being pathetic. Sneaking around. Betrayal.

[[Synopsis has been removed]]

Tag List Is Open!!!

You land silently on your feet behind the man standing guard at the end of the hall. Your hands move quickly snapping his neck in seconds. You let his body hit the ground next to your feet. You detach yourself from rope you dropped in on.

“Anyone else get a cold feeling from her?” Sam voice fills your ear from his place on the jet with the others.

“What, like she might snap your neck at any moment?” Clint chuckles.

“Actually, yes.” Sam clears his throat.

“Y/N, you got someone coming up on you.” Tony warns you. Your hand grips the rope, springing into action, before he fully makes it around the corner. You wrap the rope around his neck, you turn throwing him over you, his neck snaps as his body hits the ground. You step over his body proceeding down the hall.

“I get a warm fuzzy feeling from her.” Nat snickers quietly in the vents.

“Oh yeah like the reaper is breathing down your neck.” Buck chuckles.

A man steps out of a room, you slam your elbow up into his chin and then into his nose, knocking him out. You shove him back into the room, pulling the door closed. Continuing on your way.

“It’s like your worse nightmare come to life.” Tony laughs. You ram your knee into a guards middle, before following with a knee to the jaw. You slam him into the frame of a door, dropping him to the ground. “Coming around the corner.” Tony warns you. You brace, waiting. Your foot connects with his chest, he slams into the wall, you snap your taser out, pressing it against his neck. He finally drops to the ground, before you carry on.

“Anyone else getting Winter Soldier vibes?” Clint asks.

“I can hear you.” You roll your eyes. You hear the familiar laugh of Peter and curse yourself for the rush you felt.

“Yeah Sam. She can hear you.” Buck scuffs.

“God Sam, rude.” Tony adds.

“You know she could kill you?” Clint asks.

“You people are mean.” Sam huffs. The guard outside the door starts towards you, your pistol in hand, you pull the trigger without stopping, and once more as you step over him.

“She double tapped him.” Buck swallows.

“I just threw up in my mouth.” Sam groans.

“Weakling.” You smirk stopping in front of the security room.

“You’re going to need a code to get in. Peter, you’re up.” Tony claps his hand. You roll your eyes, your foot slams into the weak spot on the frame. The door swings open.

“I’ve got it.” You reply, slipping into the room.

“She booted that bitch open.” Clint sounds stunned. You slip the flash drive into the keyboard and hit enter. You watch as the file names scroll down the screen.

“Tony, load up my camera. We have an issue.” Your voice almost shakes.

“What happened?” Tony sounds nervous.

“It’s what they have.” You stare at the screen.

File.217Parker File.714Stark

It keeps going and going and going the numbers growing higher and higher on the two men you knew.

“Y/N. Get out of there. Now.” Peter’s voice startles you. You nod, ripping the flash drive out.

“Red gotta bounce.” You jump up and head out of the room. “Now.”

“Around the corner.” She replies.

-----------

You’re holding Nat’s tackle clip, and the rope, the stairway door slams open. Six men come into the hallway.

“Shit.” You slam the clip shut, locking her in place.

“Wait!” Nat grabs for the clip, too late.

“Sorry, Nat. Time to go.” You slam the retract on her belt, yanking her up.

Anger fuels you for so long, but it doesn’t give you strength. It was a losing fight, you were trained but not enhanced. Too many blows, made your vision blur, stumbling into the floor.

“Y/N?” In your confused state you knew that voice. Your heavy eyelids flutter open. A blurry double vision of Peter bent over you.

“Oh god there are two of you.” You groan, trying to swat away his hands.

“Come on babe. I’ve got you.” He picks you up with ease. Your head on his shoulder, your eyes close. The motion too fast, your stomach lurches and your head spins. When you open your eyes you’re on the roof.

“Whoa, too fast.” You groan.

“Whoa.” Buck tips your chin to get a look at your face.

“Let’s get her looked at.” Clint nods, Peter heads up the ramp of the jet quickly.

----------

You were lying on the exam table, staring at the ceiling. Cursing yourself, cursing Peter, and cursing your pain. Fury strolled into the Med Bay room, you struggled to sit up quickly. Wincing in pain, your arm curled around your ribs.

“Agent.” He takes the file from Maria.

“Sir.” You groan, struggling to your feet.

“You have a concussion and fractured ribs.” He reads off the file.

“If that’s all, Sir. I’m ready to go.” You nod.

“Sit down Agent.” He orders. You glance back at the exam table.

“Something else?” You look at him, not sitting.

“You can pick someone to stay with you while you heal, or Maria can strap you down now.” He watches you.

“Sir, I’ll be fine.” You nod.

“Pick or I’ll pick for you.” He smirks. “And you know I’m a twisted mother fucker.” He chuckles. You curse Fury as well.

“Ah Sargent Barnes.” You mutter.

“Interesting pick.” Fury nods.

“Sir?” You wait, he hasn’t moved from the doorway.

“Romanov and Parker have requested to see you.” He explains. You wince.

“Tell Nat to call me. I’ll meet Barnes at the location I text him.” You don’t make eye contact.

“Sargent Barnes will be checking in. No message for Parker?” Fury shrugs. You scratch the back of your neck, clenching your jaw.

“Tell him thanks.” You mumble, pushing between them and out of the room.

You had to get away, there were weak spots in your armor, and you needed to get away before they became cracks. Before instead of shutting it off, you went upstairs and kicked in Peter’s door. Demanding answers. Screaming out your pain at him. Pleading for him to make things right. You shake your head, hurrying past the nurses station, without stopping.

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

Everything Peaches 2/6/19: @xmtd5 @mo320 @courtmr   @all1e23 @izzy--lee @irepeldirt @dumblani @nishanki1 @crist1216 @alyssaj23 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @kolakube9 @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sea040561 @sexyvixen7 @pcterpvrker @pigwidgexn @doctoranon @abschaffer2 @callie-bear15 @nickimarie94 @teller258316 @carostar2020 @wandressfox @amandab-ftw @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @circusofchaos @itsagalaxystar @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @lucifersnipnips @queenkrissy11 @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @paintballkid711 @iwillbeinmynest @sweet-honey15 @chanelmadrid13 @mellxander1993 @killerbumblebee @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @sammysgirl1997 @itzmegaaaaaaan @booksbeforebois @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @childishhoebinoo @capsheadquaters @samanthasmileys @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @notyourtypicalrose @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @booktvmoviefangirl @supernatural-girl97 @fanfictionjunkie1112 @abbypalmer14-blog @meganlikesfandoms @awkwardfangirl2014 @supernaturaldean67 @xqueenofthecraziesx   @queenoftheunderdark @writingaworldofmyown @supernaturallover2002 @daughterofthenight117 @sprinklesandsugarcubes @whothehellisbucky-1930 @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @wonderlandfandomkingdom @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety

Marvel Tag List 2/6/19: @lumelgy   @dottirose   @jcc04220 @rockagurl @a--1--1--3 @mizzzpink   @jade-taillia @coley0823 @widowsfics @bookluver01 @thelostallycat @shield-agent78 @dtftheavengers   @ilovetvshowsblog @capsheadquaters   @iamwarrenspeace @thefridgeismybestie @whenallsaidanddone @deanwinchestersrifle @fandomsstolemylife00   @daughterofthenight117 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect  

Peter Parker: @ml7010 @ariminiria @dkpink123   @boltsgirl919 @quokkatrash @everthenerd @ms-rogers06 @crayonwriting @baebeepeach @dolan-mendes @bellamouse16 @way-ward-whale @honey-bee-holly @kiss-the-stars-goodbye

Mistakes Made: @gabile18 @lakamaa12 @likhmahass @mottergirl99 @thejupiterkiller @ibookishqueen @mus1cal-barnes @sherlokiantheatrenerd @nerdy-bookworm-1998

[docfuture]

Princess, part 4

     [This story is a prequel, set several years before The Fall of Doc Future, when Flicker is 16.  Links to some of my other work are here.  Planning to update this once a week until it’s done–next update is planned to be up by November 10th.]

Previous: Part 3

     Back at her section of Doc's HQ.  Flicker's personal shower was a customized array of converted waterjet cutters.  She set the cycle to 'potential biohazard decontamination' and turned the pressure and temperature all the way up.  The high pressure streams helped a little.  She used emotional and memory compartmentalization as a coping mechanism, but it was fraying around the edges.  She'd been able to achieve temporary detachment from the events at the Box, but other issues were creeping back.  Burnout wasn't helping, but it was better than unmanaged anger or frustration, so she'd take it.  Could be worse.       She dressed after a medibot scan and checked alerts.  Doc had listed his debriefing as 'optional' but she went anyway.  Might as well get it over with.       Doc was in the main control room.  A rows of vid screens nearly covered one wall, and Flicker noted that the upper left quadrant was still set to Doc's preferred 'remain even-tempered while on a voice call with someone obnoxious' mix--science news feeds and a set of difficult-to-decipher regional heatmaps.  She sat down in one of the observer chairs and Doc turned to face her.       "I should have slowed down after he stopped struggling," she said.  "Getting to the Box fast didn't matter."       "Hindsight," said Doc.  "And it's not clear going slower for a longer time would have been less painful for Hermes--he was getting dragged by the leg at hypersonic velocities regardless.  You did everything reasonably possible.  You stopped the rampage.  He's gone and unlikely to voluntarily return any time soon--his mystique is shattered.  Remember, it took us over a month to catch him the first time."       "However."  Doc tented his hands, his face concerned.  "You still aren't managing your pacing.  If you made a mistake today, it was to go on patrol at all--you were only marginally at yellow when the alert hit.  I had a discussion with the Database integrity AI.  Some of your telemetry on the return trip was very disturbing.  And the EMT at the Box reported that you showed signs of combat stress reaction--thousand-yard stare and complete lack of facial expression."       "Fine," said Flicker.  "I'll skip patrol tomorrow."       "I think you should take a longer break.  Your stress is--"       "Journeyman is more than two hours overdue for his scheduled check-in.  I'm not going on vacation when my partner is potentially in trouble."       "I'm not suggesting that," said Doc.  "You can stay on-call for his backup without handling response for anything else.  And he did request a 24-hour buffer before we take any action when he isn't on Earth."       "... Yeah, he did."       Now I have nothing pressing to do except worry about my partner.  Great.       Doc was still studying her.  "There were some patterns in the probability manipulation flux levels I measured that bother me.  Hermes' summoning may have been used as a mask for something.  I'm going to be gathering and analyzing more data.  If you wish, you could assist in some tests.  They should be stress-free."       "Okay.  I can try that."       *****       Flicker had her own place, but its suitability as a permanent home was still largely theoretical.  The location had been a rail maintenance shop in a long inactive part of the Iron Range, where she'd been able to secure several important concessions regarding allowable levels of noise and plasma in return for cleaning it up without allowing any contamination to get into the groundwater.       It had a full Database backup node, up and running smoothly--sub-microsecond latency was part of Flicker's minimum requirement for 'home'--but everything else was progressing more slowly.  It was more than a cot in a workshop next to a giant underground server room, as one of Doc's sysadmins had joked, but not a lot more.       It was, however, far enough from Doc's HQ to run some esoteric causal isolation tests for probability manipulation--and rule out certain forms of influence that were otherwise difficult to detect.  Flicker was quite willing.  Glancing at her Machiavelli study context after the weight of the day's events sank in had turned her stomach.  The tests were emotionally neutral--better than anything else available.  She sat at her high speed interface keyboard, watching several graphs and responding to a verification program controlled by a random number generator.       It let her go away for a while.       Update, sent the Database, after a long time.       Flicker sped up.  Yes?       Journeyman has checked in.  Message for you:  "Back.  Will call when home."       Something positive to focus on.  Finally.  Location.  Running updates.       Check in at Antarctic secure drop.  Current location undefined.       Flicker slowed down slightly to wait on the updates and felt her emotional reaction start to kick in.       Bangkok...  Undefined...  Tabriz...  Undefined...    Amsterdam...  Undefined...  Las Vegas...  Undefined...       He was skip-porting, staying just long enough to send a blip from his phone then porting again.  Was he worried about pursuit?       Rural Kansas.       She waited.  The location didn't change.  What is he doing in Kansas?       Buying groceries.       Okay.  Estimate probability he'll be there for at least ten more seconds.       98%+.  However, there is a 94%+ chance he will be at his home within five minutes.       Groceries implied at least a short stay.       Flicker got up from the keyboard and made sure her travel pack had a fresh change of clothes--it had been a while since she'd used it.  'Off-duty' was not a state of mind that came naturally anymore.

     Flicker was waiting on Journeyman's doorstep when he ported in.  He was in an outfit she'd seen before; a stylized armored vest over archaic-looking clothes.  His shapeshifting hat was wide-brimmed and black.  He looked like the handsome villain from a poster for a historical drama with skilled costumers but no concern for accuracy.       "Hey," she said, then held out her hand, fingers spread.  "Yellow."  Not great, but able to handle immediate priorities.       "Hey."  He touched his fingertips to hers in their personal substitute for a high five.  "I'm at yellow, too," he said.       "What's up?"       He waved his hand.  "Paranoia, probably.  But, you know..."  He took a breath.  "We can talk inside."       He scowled at the multiple locks on his front door.  Flicker knew there were invisible wards on it as well.       "Can you just port us both?" she asked.       "I got into this mess because I was overconfident at the wrong time," he said.  He put down the grocery bags, stuck out both arms, and moved them slowly upwards in a smooth arc.  Faint green fire trailed from his fingertips.  "Sorry for the wait, but I'm not going to get sloppy at the end."       After finishing with the wards, he pulled out a set of keys to unlock the physical locks.  "I'd like to close this properly after we're inside.  You willing to leave it unvaporized if something comes up?" he asked.       "Do you still have a replacement emergency exit window handy?"       "Yep."       "Then yeah," she said.  "I'll use that if I have to go in a hurry."       Journeyman heaved a sigh after they entered and he closed the door.  "Now we can--"  Something chirped, interrupting him.  "Great."       Flicker sped up and checked her sensors.  There was no sign of anyone or anything else living or recently mobile inside.  The chirp had sounded similar to a low battery alert from a smoke alarm, but had come from midair.  Whatever was amiss, it wasn't anything she recognized.  She turned to Journeyman and slowed down again.       "No obvious intruders," she said.  "What alarm is that?"       "Higher than expected magic level."  He waved a hand to silence the alarm, then pulled out his glasses from a vest pocket and put them on.  He used them for detail work and distinguishing subtle magic.  He looked around the room before turning to Flicker and doing a double take.       "False alarm," he said.  "But you certainly have a fine magical glow about you this evening."       "Should I worry?"       "Depends on how you got that way."  He paused to put the bags of groceries on the kitchen counter, then he took off his hat and tossed it onto the hat stand, where it transformed into a flat cap.       He looked back at her with a raised eyebrow.  "Did you, like, beat up a demigod and take his lunch money or something?"       "Does Hermes count?"       Both eyebrows up.  "...for this purpose, yes.  Would that be why you're at yellow?"       "I was already at yellow from my shift when he showed.  But my day improved when you ported in alive."       A short laugh.  "Mine too.  You up for telling me what happened?  Is he, ah..."       "I didn't kill him.  And he got away, off Earth, because..."  Flicker shut her eyes to try to organize what she wanted to say.   "Can I show you the feed from my visor cam?  That's easier than just talking.  I'm pretty burned out.  Doc strongly suggested I take time off.  But are you expecting an attack?  I got really worried after you missed your check in."       "Not a direct one.  Not anymore.  Certainly not with you here."  He pulled off his vest and dropped it on a chair, revealing blotches of sweat on the shirt underneath.  "The magician part of the 'Byzantine interdimensional magician mess' should be over.  But I've been reliving an old style, an old set of habits, as cover, and I'm not all the way back yet, so--"       Flicker frowned at a cut in the outer fabric of the back of the vest.  "That looks like someone stabbed you in the back."       "Yep.  That was a while ago.  I left the cut to discourage anyone else from trying, then forgot about it."       "You forgot about being backstabbed?"       "Eh.  He was okay, he was just testing me.  I finessed it.  He laughed when his sword broke because I warp cut it, then I asked if he was done yet.  Wasn't even in the top ten most stressful things that happened that day.  Not incidentally, I could use some time off, too.  But you had a bad day involving magic, and I wasn't here to back you up, which I regret.  So tell me, or show me, whatever you want.  We can use the TV--it has one of Doc's data scramblers, and I warded it so no one can use the speaker as a mic."       "Okay."       Flicker set up a playback of highlights from her visor, edited by the Database, then joined Journeyman on the couch.  "I had already hit my patrol limit for the day and was reading something kind of depressing when the alert hit..."       Flicker described events tersely and spent the vid segments watching Journeyman's reaction.  He had red hair, a light complexion with freckles, and a very expressive face.  Unfortunately, Flicker wasn't very good at reading faces.  He looked intent and slightly alarmed--which was his default with anything important.       His eyes widened slightly at her exchange with Hermes in the Tyrrhenian, and he spent the replay of the transfer at the Box with his hands clasped in front of his mouth.       "...and after I decontaminated, Doc was really insistent I stay off duty for a while," Flicker concluded, after the replay segments finished.  "But you were overdue, so I killed time running some tests until you ported in."       Journeyman met her eyes.  "Whoof.  Lots of things I could say.  Most aren't urgent, since he lived and you didn't spill any blood.  Anything you wanted to ask me about first?"       "Well, Doc said Hermes' escape wasn't a big problem.  I'm not so sure.  What do you think?"       "Heh."  Journeyman shook his head.  "He didn't escape.  He got boomeranged when his summoner died--I'm actually more concerned about how that happened, because the whole thing sounds fishy.  I'll have to see if I can find out who the summoner was.  And I really don't think Hermes is going to be eager to come back to Earth again, which will make him rather more difficult to summon, even if someone wanted to."       "Why not?"       "Because you live here."  Journeyman waved a hand.  "You delivered one of the most thorough pseudo-mythological curb-stompings I've ever seen, followed by a disturbingly effective bit of operant conditioning.  And that 'fire is hot' bit where you changed your voice? That--"       "My voice changed?  I was just trying to speak clearly when I was tired and out of patience."       "Yeah, well, you didn't sound like a superhero.  You sounded like an angry goddess.  To me, and to Hermes.  You saw his eyes."       Flicker looked away.  "You know how I feel about being called a goddess."       "I do.  But if the shoe fits...  And I'll need to check on a few things.  You're likely to get a lot of weird or disturbing messages.  For sure when whatever vid the Box recorded leaks.  But that's not urgent."       Flicker sighed.  "I get plenty of weird emails already.  Enough for my Database bots to do robust statistics on small fraction subgroups.  I look at the results sometimes when I'm having trouble getting to sleep."       "Then rejoice, for your somnolence-aiding samples will surely grow."       Flicker snorted a laugh.  "Thanks.  There's another thing that bugging me a bit, though."       "Yes?"       "Hermes didn't seem to recognize me.  So how did he learn that claiming to know about my biological parents was a plausible trick to try?"       "Ah."  Journeyman looked down and said nothing for a moment.  "What did Doc have to say about it?"       "Nothing.  And I didn't bring it up because I didn't want to restart the old argument I've had with him since I was twelve.  He was more concerned about some probability manipulation detector anomalies.  He'll probably want to talk to you about them, eventually."       "Ah."  Journeyman put a hand to his mouth.  He looked worried, like he was trying to solve a hard problem in his head and failing.  He stood and shut off the TV, then walked over to the bookshelves.  After standing silently for a while he turned back around.       "You said you were reading something unpleasant when the alert hit.  What was it?"       "A heavily annotated translation of Machiavelli's The Prince.  I've started trying to learn about politics."       "Oh.  Yeah, that would... Damn it.  Okay.  You asked a question.  I have a theory about the answer.  I owe you an explanation, but it's going to lead somewhere pretty dark, and I'm not sure you're up for it right now.  And I have a nasty suspicious mind, and my paranoia dial has been turned to 11 for a while.  I could be wrong about any or all of this.  I don't know anything.  Like whether this is safe.  But I don't think it's safe to leave it for later, either."       Flicker sped up.  DASI?  Any idea what's going on?       Yes.       Care to enlighten me?       Not at this time.  It would not aid your memory integration and could create an incomplete information bias hazard.  Listen to Journeyman.       Flicker stared at her visor display for a long subjective time.  A hazard if she didn't listen...       She slowed back down.  "It isn't going to get any less dark if you wait, is it?"       "No."       "Then go ahead."       He came back and sat down on the couch beside her, clasped his hands in front of his face, then turned to look at her.  "So.  Let's start with why you're sensitive about your biological parentage.  You told me about your fight with Doc about your DNA tests.  I'm afraid I'm on his side.  DNA tests are easy to spoof with probability manipulation if you have any kind of divination or you know how they work.  Takes hardly any power.  I can do it, no sweat.  I could even put a ward on someone to make a DNA test on their blood match the DNA of the tech that did the draw, so they don't get outed as a non-human by a drug test.  Hypothetically."       "Uh..."       Journeyman waved a hand.  "That said, I think that if your biological body has two parents and if you were conceived by sexual reproduction, then you're right--Doc is probably your father.  It's still the simplest explanation."       Flicker looked down.  "Doc won't assume that.  He told me that wherever my body came from could be a lot weirder and still be less unusual than my speed powers."       "He has a point.  But let's go ahead and assume it for the moment.  He's not the problem, is he?  Your mother is, because she's definitely not human.  You're on pretty firm ground there because of your strength and healing ability.  And you aren't happy with what that implies."       "No.  I'm not."       "Sooo... Suppose a demon shows up at Doc's HQ tomorrow and says 'Hi Flicker, I'm your mother', and Doc says 'Could be her', and runs some tests--you know he would--then says 'Yup.'  How would you feel?"       "I would have many questions."       "I'm sure," said Journeyman.  "But how would feel?  Happy... or angry?"       Fury.  Flicker sped up.  DASI?  Is anger a reasonable response?       He did not ask for justification.  Is anger an accurate description of your projected emotional state?       Yeah...       She slowed back down.  "Angry.  Very angry."       "More angry than you were at Hermes today?"       Flicker took a deep breath.  "I... don't know.  Maybe.  Why did you say 'demon'?  You usually--"       "Say non-human person or something.  Yes.  Demon isn't a great word.  Emotionally loaded as hell.  But it's the one that gets used.  It's the one you think, right?  So maybe you can understand why she might not want to drop in for pizza and chitchat?"       "If she knew, but--"       "Now suppose she doesn't stop by, but someone tells you her name.  Would you want to go have a little talk with her?  Maybe while you're still angry, because of those many questions that haven't been answered yet?"       "... Yeah."       "So can you see how her name could be used as an attack, against you or her, even though you want to know it?  And the correct name might be worse than a lie or mistake?"       Another breath.  "Yes."       "So.  Back to your question.  I think Hermes was primed with a hint that you were sensitive about your biological parents, either by the summoner or by someone else before he was summoned."       Journeyman waggled his hand.  "I suspect that the whole thing might have been a premeditated attack aimed at you that didn't quite work, but I'm less sure about that and it's messy to explain.  If it was, the probability manipulation Doc picked up on was probably part of it.  And it might not be over."       "But if Hermes planned to attack me--"       "I don't think he did.  I don't even think he was the weapon--that would be the summoner.  I think Hermes was ammunition.  And the planner was someone who had really good intel.  A seer at a minimum.  You got hit at about the worst possible time, and I don't think that was an accident.  But we're getting into wild-eyed paranoia territory now.  Both you and Doc are swimming in a sea of probability manipulation, against and for you, because you're both so important to the survival of Earth.  So it's hard to sort things out.  Anyway.  Are you ready for the not safe part?"       "Okay..."       "You gave him more than one chance to talk.  And he didn't try 'I know who your parents are' right away.  Not until the last thing he said, right after you went angry goddess.  I think he recognized something."       "What?" said Flicker.  "He'd already seen me."       "Your voice changed.  I think he heard a resemblance to someone he'd met.  And guessed she was your mother."       "You really think he could tell just from a bit of voice?  Why?"       "Because that's what I thought, about someone I've met.  At the same spot in the recording."       "Do you think it's the same person?"       Journeyman looked down.  "Important question.  Any name occur to you?"       Flicker's mind whirled.  "No."       "Okay.  Not sure my guess is right.  But I'm a lot more sure that if it is right, she doesn't want you to know who she is.  At least not right now."       "Who do you think she is?"       "Aaand now we start with the dark part.  I'm not going to tell you.  You'll eventually learn, if I'm right and we all live that long."       Journeyman looked back up and met her eyes.  "But not from me.  I won't be the weapon."       Another breath.  And a lot of anger that wasn't a projected emotional state.  "What was the point of making this so... personal, if you won't tell me?"       "You asked the question, and it's a threat exactly because you take it so personally."  He looked to the side.  "I have another reason.  It's more personal for me, and the rest of the dark part.  I'll tell you, if you want to hear, but it will take a bit.  You up for it?"       "Yes."       "Okay.  But you're stressed and burned out and angry and probably a little buzzed from that hit of magic you picked up, and I'm tired and stressed and hungry, so I'd like to fix dinner first.  You want some?"       "We can get takeout, you don't have to--"       "I cook to de-stress sometimes.  That's why I got groceries.  And it will give you a bit of a break, too.  Are you hungry?"       "No... but I probably should be."       Journeyman smiled.  "Great.  Food coming up!"  He stood and headed for the kitchen.       Flicker felt a sense of emotional whiplash as she watched him.  But he hadn't brushed her off or ignored what she wanted...       My partner.  Helping me remember things I shouldn't forget.

Next: Part 5