#and he reaches down beside him to grab an attachment which he fits over the end of his severed arm and fastens on

[attractthecrows]

oh my god. wait. no. first i need to draw him carving her vallaslin

well the nice thing about da4 being 12 years after dai is that now im entirely justified in drawing a grownup nessie fussing over her one-armed former inquisitor father refusing to do things like "be careful" or "rest for once in his goddamn life"

[its-in-the-woods]

Coyote Head - Part 8 - Dancing in Thunder

master list

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Pairing: Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean 

Includes many other characters from Fallout

Synopsis: The spring dance end in a storm

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning:  Animal/people death, dead animal mutilation, Blood, Gore, Violence, Alternative Universe, Slow Burn, Death, Aging, Family Feuding, Older Man/Younger Woman

Note: that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. So you have been warned. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

*please mind the tags, this one gets a bit gross

Lucy sat on the toilet trying to calm her breathing, the music could just be heard through the wood wall beside her. The level of anxiety she’d been feeling lately was supposed to be tempered by the Friday night dance, instead, it had just made her feel more out of place. The week had been a non-stop run. The cows had finally finished calving, two needing assistance, Lucy wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to having her entire arm inside a cow. Thankfully with Lucy’s help, both calves had come out healthy. Then there was the fencing issues, John Roth had come over asking about fencing at the border between Lucy’s property and his. An additional calf and three more cows had been injured, driving up the fence Lucy could see the concern. Several posts had been broken at the base, wires tangled in a mess. What was most concerning was the dozens of tufts of hair stuck to barbs, something had dragged the cows across the barbed wire and into the bush. Something big. 

The door opened and Lucy’s head popped up, realizing that she needed to get a move on. Taking a breath she stood and straightened her dress, it was blue, snug under her bust, and flared out to just below her knees. The top had a square neckline with mid-length sleeves that covered just enough to ward off the spring air. The bottom was covered in floral embroidery, a hand me down from her Aunt Marge, it was beautiful, light, and fit her perfectly. 

Once her hands were washed, Lucy made her way back into the hall. The building wasn’t huge by any stretch, it had a small dining hall and kitchen, which then attached to the main dance hall. The building had been built in the nineteen-sixties and hadn’t changed much since then, besides a coat of paint. Along the far wall were several tables with chairs, then on the other wall was a band singing, and in the middle of the room were dozens of pairs dancing to the tunes.

Lucy gave a small smile as she moves across the room, to the table Cooper was sitting at. He smiles up at her, before getting up to pull her chair out. She graciously sat down taking a sip of water out of her glass. Sorely wishing she had some wine to relax the last of the nerves. 

“What’s on your mind, beautiful,” Cooper asks, his big hand engulfing her own, she could see the worry lines popping around the edges of his brows.

Lucy put on her best smile, hoping Copper wouldn’t notice how tense her shoulders were. “Probably just need another spin on the dance floor.”

Cooper’s brows didn’t relax, Lucy inwardly groaning at how easy she was to read. He didn’t say anything, instead standing and reaching a hand towards her. Lucy, grateful that he didn’t press things here, standing, and smoothing her dress again before grabbing the man’s hand. 

A riotist country tune twanged onto the speakers, causing more people to come to the floor. The sound of cowboy boots and heels stomping to the beat, Cooper twirled Lucy around dipping her down before swinging her back around. A cheer rose up from the crowd as they moved their feet in time with the beat. Lucy couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she continued to move with him, the man dragging her back into his arms so she was back to chest. The feel of his strong arms wrapped around her, the heat rising against her back easing any lingering anxiety. 

The tune continued, more shouts and laughter as another couple came in, the man swinging the woman up into the air. Twirling around, Lucy and Cooper cheering as the woman came to swing down in a deep swoop. Lucy grins and claps her hands as the pair bows. Everyone smiling at the show in front of them. 

After the upbeat tune, comes something a little softer and slower, the lights going down just enough for it to feel like each couple is in their own little world.  Cooper gently spins Lucy towards him, one of her hands on his hip and the other on his shoulder. Cooper does the same as the melody spins through the air. Lucy leans her head to rest against his collarbone, Cooper kissing the top of her head. The two slowly move back and forth in circles around the other couples. 

Lucy, taking in how nice he smelt, he always smelt good even after working all day, now he smelt like wood smoke and warm spices. His shirt is clean, blue jeans pressed, and boots shining in the low light of the room. The calm slowing Lucy’s heart, just for a moment the fencing, the cows, the farm, the forest, were now just background noise. She could just focus on how softly Cooper held her, despite how strong they were, how their bodies fit together and swayed to the music. 

Lucy - LUCY

Her head shot up, looking around the room for the voice, hands moving from Cooper as she turns in circles. Pushing past people and moving towards the groups, looking for a familiar face, trying to find him. Trying to figure out where the sound had come from, how had it sounded like her Grandfather? How was that even possible? 

“Lucy?” Cooper asks, his hand finding hers as she madly keeps searching. 

Lucy’s heart was pounding, her eyes wild as she searched each person’s face for the one who called her name. She tried to break herself free from Cooper’s grip but he pulled her back towards him.

“I heard him,” Lucy says, her voice carrying across the now silent room. Eyes finally focusing in, everyone around her stopping to stare at her. She froze, stepping back towards Cooper, a few other couples had stepped away from her, their eyes looking over her face like she had sprouted horns. 

Cooper brings her back, “It’s okay, little tired's all.” He says, the music coming back on as he firmly steers her towards the hallway. Lucy was suddenly in a daydream, the world going fuzzy. Her body moving on it's own without much thought.

“I heard him,” Lucy says again, her voice quieter as Cooper tucked them into the kitchen. The light just bright enough for them to see each other, the stainless steel appliance seeming so harsh compared to the wooden building.

Cooper stands Lucy in front of him so he can look right into her eyes, his brows scrunched together as he looks her up and down. “What did you ‘ear?”

“Grandpa Tim. He was calling my name.” Lucy said quietly, trying to hold

Cooper’s gaze. Her mind a blaze with the distinct sound of her late grandfather's voice. “It sounded like he was right there.”

Cooper let out a low whistle at that, his hand rubbing against his face, others squeezing her hand. “Ya sure?”

Lucy nods, looking towards the door, hearing people moving down the hallway. Almost certainly talking about the little stunt that just happened. “It sounded as if he was right beside me like we are talking now.” 

Cooper hums, pulling his bottom lip against his teeth, “Like the stuff in the journals?”

She worried at her lip, “I've barely read one, but something like that yah. I am not going crazy Cooper, I heard him. I heard my name. The journals barely touch on the subject-”

Cupping her face Cooper stops the ramble before it starts, “I don’t think you’re crazy, Luce. Just tryin’ to wrap my ‘ead around it, is all.”

Lucy's brows furrow as she tries not to let herself spiral. “Can we go home?” 

“Absolutely, let me go get yer purse,” Cooper leans down to kiss her, squeezing her hand again before leaving. 

***

They made their way to Lucy’s truck, in the distance the sound of thunder rumbled booms across the grassland. Lucy’s head popping up, looking southwest of where she stood she could see the distinction swell of white and black thunderheads. Looking eerily similar to scooped ice cream piled onto a black haze. Cooper looks towards it as well, as he holds the door open for her to get inside. Lucy thanks him as she settles into the passenger seat.

Lucy grabs her phone, skimming through the apps to find the weather. Not that they were ever accurate, it was more wide guestimate. Instead, she swiped over to the radar, having lived in the prairies long enough to be familiar with it. Taking a look at the giant bloom of green spreading up and moving towards them. It eerily looked like a big bird of prey flying straight at them. 

“Looks like a good thunderstorm system moving towards us,” Lucy says, as Cooper gets the old beast going, moving into reverse to pull out of the hallway parking. Before heading straight towards the ever-growing storm.

As they head south towards her home, Lucy mentions that she wanted to grab a box of journals from the place. Halfway there the rain hit hard and fast. Groaning Lucy squirmed in her seat and Cooper flipped on the whippers, squinting through the downpour. 

A large animal drats across the road, Cooper slamming on the brakes as the tires squeal. The slick road causes the tires to slide, Cooper trying to correct them; as they start to slide and spin toward the ditch. Lucy lets out a small scream, closing her eyes and waiting for impact. But it never came. 

Chest heaving Lucy opened her eyes to see they were facing north now instead of south. Letting out her held breath as she looked around, happy that they had somehow made it without a crash. Cooper turns the truck back south to drive the rest of the way home. His hands gripping the wheel a little tighter.

***

The door was still closed, all the windows unbroken, yet the heavy ball of dread sat in Lucy’s stomach. The same feeling she had had when the place had been trashed. Similar to the feeling she'd felt walking on the edge of the forest.

Clenching her hand in Cooper’s trying to decide what to do. It was still pouring down rain, Cooper watching her closely as she looked over the house. Lucy feeling silly that she was struggling to go into her own home.

“We don’t have to go in. It can wait till tomorrow,” Cooper says, trying to soothe her. 

“No, I should go get the box, I need to start really looking through them. Make some notes, trying to figure out what is going on.” Lucy says, repeating to herself that she was safe and Cooper was here. Nothing was going to happen. 

Lucy gets out of the truck striding, as confidently as she can, to the front door. Putting her key into the deadbolt and turning it with a satisfying click. Another repetition of her mantra before she turned the handle. Doing everything in her power to keep her eyes open as she pushes the door open, Cooper following just behind her. She turns on the hallway light and toes off her rain-soaked shoes. She went to the living room and flicked on the light. 

Letting out the breath she was holding as she scanned the space. Nothing out of order, everything in its place. Cooper takes his shoes off before he goes and sits himself down at the dining table. 

“Get what you need, and then we can go back to my place,” Cooper says calmly, Lucy opens up the fridge to grab a beer and slides it to him, popping open her own. She turns and walks towards her bedroom. 

A scream leaves Lucy’s mouth as she tumbles out of the doorway onto the floor. The bottle of beer hits the floor with a loud thud, as she lays there in horror looking into her bedroom.

The desecrated corpse of a coyote was laid out on her bed. The head lay in the center of Lucy's pillow, the pelt stretched out with bones carefully placed in the right order. Heart laid closest to her, tail and paws placed where they'd have naturally been. It would have been almost artful if it was so brutal. Out of all of it, what spooked her the most was the fact that there was not a drop of blood to be found. 

Scrambling backward from the horror in front of her, Lucy feels Cooper reaching down to pick her up. His yells echo through the place as he sees what is laid out on the bed. 

Lucy

Her eyes going wide at the sound of her Grandfather's voice, again. Feet frozen to the floor as she looks into the kitchen and living room. Cooper tries to hold onto her as she turns towards the voice.

Lucy. I am right here. Come help me.

The voice was further down toward where the spare bedroom was. It crackles almost as if it was coming through an old ham radio set. Lucy started to move towards, Cooper’s hand slipping from her wrist. She had to go, he was there, just out of reach out of sight. The pull around her naval making her take two more steps before her brain screamed for her to stop.

“Lucy, Lucy, stop.” Cooper's voice breaks the mesmer, that hung like thick fog all around her.

“Cooper?” Lucy said quietly, looking around confused as to where the sound could be coming from.

“Don't go to the voice,” Cooper calls out, Lucy unsure why he was even in the house. Cooper wasn't supposed to be there, not now. The voice? What was he talking about? Why was she so scared?  Lucy looked down at the dress she wore, why was she in a dress?

LUCY

It screams right into her ear, like a thousand voices saying her name over and over. It wasn’t right, the letters, and syllables were all wrong. As if it was trying to sound human but the word didn't fit in its mouth. Lucy covers her ears, a scream ripping out of her throat as she falls to the ground. Trying desperately to get it to stop calling her name, her hands banging against the side of her face. Her body curling up on the floor, eyes screwed tight as she screams for it to stop. Something was banging, banging? and banging. As if someone was beating her over the head with a hammer. Lucy desperately tries to fend off the unstoppable noise. 

Something in the back of her mind broke through, telling her she needed to move, to get out of the house. Lucy whimpers, rolling onto her knees and crawling to the door. Every bang, noise, sound, made it feel like her ear were bleeding. The door felt like it was a lifetime away, her vision nearly blacking out with every movement she made. Her body trembling as the sound continues to pound against her brain. 

Blood was dripping on the floor, as she finally came to the door. Looking up at the nob as if it was as far as the sun, she reaches up and turns the knob, before falling towards the deck outside.  The cool night air was the last thing she felt as the world went black.

***

The world was fuzzy, a vaseline-like filter over everything, the light too bright as she tried to move her head. Lucy blinks a few times, as she tries to cover her eyes with her hand. It was stiff and something was stuck into the top. 

“Lucy, stay still.” Someone whispers, Lucy tries to see who it is but it is so blurry.

She attempted to wipe at her eyes with less success, she was so confused. Where was she, and how did she get here? Why did everything hurt so much? 

“Hold on, we are going to give her something to help calm her down.”

***

Lucy woke to the soft sounds of beeping, a warm hand holding hers, opening her eyes the place was clear. The white and green walls of the hospital, machines beeping next to her, Cooper sitting in a wheelchair beside her, dressed in loose-fitting black sweatpants, and a grey v-neck t-shirt. His eyes were closed, his hand held hers, his thumb rubbing over the top of her knuckles. 

“Coop-” Lucy croaked out, her mouth and throat so dry that it was hard to sleep.

Cooper sat up with a start, eyes blinking a few times. “Lucy,” He gasped out, immediately pressing the call button that sat on his lap. 

He let go of her hand grabbing a glass of water from beside him. “Here take a sip.”

Lucy swallows down a few gulps, the water burning as it goes down. She scrunches her brows, forcing herself to drink another couple of sips, coughing as it went down.  Swallowing several more times, trying to get her throat coated.  

“What happened?” Lucy sighed laying back on the bed, a few nurses coming in to fuss over her. Vitals were taken, they checked her eyes, grip strength, reflexes, and a bunch of other stuff that made her head spin.

“We went to your place,” Cooper swallows, wheeling his chair so he is closer to her. “I don’t really know, I saw what was on the bed when you started to scream. Then it goes hazy.”

Lucy’s whole body went stiff as she remembered her name being called out echoing through her head. The heart monitor beeping as her brain ran, fragments of the evening washing over her like a cold shower. The coyote lay spread on her bed, the way not a drop of blood was anywhere to be seen.

“Harris dragged us out, we’re both bleedin out of our ears. The lights flickering, you were still screaming when he arrived. Neither of us co-heritant.” Cooper takes a moment sipping from his glass. “He managed to get us into the truck and drove us to hospital. They airlifted us to Swancity,” 

She swallows, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. Lucy barely remembered any of it, bits and pieces slotting into her mind. The image of the coyote, the voice, burnt into her mind. “Did anyone go in the house?”

Cooper looks away, turning towards the door. “Yes, Lucy. Harris called the police once we're safe, they didn’t do much. Said t'wasn't a sign of forced entry and no fingerprints. Not, sure why we bothered callin'em. I’ve never seen anythin' like that and they just shrugged it off. ” His hazel eyes wide as he looked at her, “It was so strange, there was no blood. Besides ours.”

Lucy leans back in the uncomfortable bed, scrunching her feet in the sheets. A petite woman in a white coat walked in, glasses perched in her graying hair.

“It’s good to see you up, Ms. MacLean.” The doctor said, a badge on the front read Dr. Kallians. “You had quite forty-eight hours, thankfully all your tests came back normal. I would like you to follow up with your primary- ah. You don’t have one.” The doctor sighed, looking over the paperwork. “Are you able to go to the clinic in Roseville?”

Lucy nods, her hand still gripping Cooper’s as she listens to the doctor. “I think I can do that.” ’ 

“Nothing showed on the scans?” Cooper pressed, looking between Lucy and Dr. Kollins. “She’s okay? We’re okay?”

The doctor shrugged a little, rubbing her eyes, “Medically speaking yes. Both you and Ms. MacLean have a clean bill of health. If anything should happen again, please go back to the hospital.” Cooper nods his head, Lucy doing the same. “You can go after the nurse comes to take out your IV..”

The woman turns on her heels and leaves before either of them can say much. Lucy taking it as her cue to sit up, her blanket falling to reveal the dressing gown she was in. 

“Oh god, please tell me that I have clothes,” Lucy let out a burst of laughter at the situation they're both in. 

Cooper reaches behind him and pulls a bag out, “There's some clothes here. But let’s wait till the nurse comes in.”

Lucy sighs, taking the bag from Cooper and placing it on the bed. “I don’t know if I can go back.” Lucy rubs her hands together, suddenly feeling completely out of place. “I just can’t stop thinking about it, I can still hear it. It kept calling my name. Whatever it was sounded like my Grandpa.”

All the blood drained from Cooper’s face as he listened to Lucy’s words. He swallows, looking back towards the door. His body rigid, as his hands twist around each other. “I heard it too, Lucy. But it wasn’t your Granddad, it was my wife, Barb.”

Lucy’s skin crawled, ears pounding at the thought, tears leaking out the corners of her eyes as she looks at Cooper. “I am so -”

The nurse walks in, and they both fall quietly. She looks between the two of them, sighing before busying herself with removing both IVs. Reminding them both to do follow-ups at the local clinic. 

Lucy turns back to Cooper, watching him carefully get out of the wheelchair. He stretches and groans, Lucy hears pops and cracks. 

“I am sorry, Cooper,” Lucy says quietly, sorry feels so empty, but nothing else comes out. 

Cooper turns to her, as he slips a worn sweater over his head, “It’s nothin,” He comes over to grab both of her hands in his,  “we can’t handle together.” 

Lucy gives a weak smile but nods her head. “You know. You don’t have to-” she looks down and away from him. “You have so much going on in your life. I can figure this out on my own. Or Dane can help-”

Cooper tips her chin up so that they’re looking eye to eye. “Nothin. We.” He leans in and kisses her gently. “Can’t handle.” He kisses her again. “Together.” 

Lucy flushes still looking at him. “Thank you, Cooper.”

“Now go on, get your pretty self dressed.” Cooper kisses her forehead, gesturing towards the small bathroom in the room. 

Part nine

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tag list: @toogaytofunctiondangit , @hiddlebatchedloki , @whatsorceressisthis @dichromaniac @autumncryptids

@therealcozyaxoltol

**As always likes, comments, shares are soooo appreciated, you can find me Ao3 as well

** Want to be on the tag list let me know

[lilacmingi]

THE INVITE

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. Ageless blogs and blank blogs risk getting blocked

Pairing: Vampire!Jin x human!fem reader

Word count: 2,105

Note: This imagine is from my Wattpad so there won’t be any extra parts or continuations

A letter sat idly on your coffee table untouched as you stared it down, debating on wether to open it or not. You knew exactly who it was from. A brief glance at the fancy designs embellishing the envelope was enough to tell you exactly who the sender was.

Kim Seokjin.

You lived in a society where vampire and humans coexisted, living together in peace (for the most part). Seokjin was one of the most well-known vampires in town. Everyone knew who he was or at the very least had heard his name.

You were almost afraid to see what was inside the envelope, but at the same time, your curiosity was gnawing at you. You had never received a letter from Seokjin before. Sure, there had been times where you saw him out and about, sometimes you would say hello or give him a small nod. The most interaction you'd ever him was the occasional friendly exchange and a brief conversation if you were lucky.

Though you would have liked to have an actual conversation with him besides small talk, the circumstances were never ideal and also he was really intimidating. Not intimidating in a scary way, but in a way that he was so good-looking, and maybe that was a vampire thing, but his visuals were otherworldly and often made it difficult for you to carry on a proper conversation.

Before you could chicken out, you reached out and snatched the letter from the table, examining it. The envelope was sealed with a red, wax emblem meaning whatever was inside must've been extremely important. Ever so slowly, you broke the seal and pulled out a neatly-folded piece of card stock. Upon unfolding the paper, you found a letter written in the most stunning penmanship.

Miss Y/n,

I would like to cordially invite you to a prestigious ball at my house tonight at 10:00 PM. Dress code is formal and it is preferred that you wear dark colors. I hope to see you there.

- Kim Seokjin

You clamped your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from gasping. This wasn't a letter, it was an invitation—a handwritten one at that. The invite was daunting, especially considering it was sent to you of all people. The idea of being invited to Seokjin's lofty home for a prestigious party had your insides riddled with jitters. The two of you had only spoken a handful of times which had you wondering why he had invited you.

"I don't even have a dress." You murmured as you folded the letter up and tucked it back into the envelope.

With nothing to wear to the event that was to take place in just a few hours, you headed out to the nearest formalwear shop to find the perfect gown. After roughly forty-five minutes of browsing the array of garments, you settled on a form-fitting carmine dress with a silk cape attached to the back. The style of gown was fitting for an event hosted by a vampire and it fit the dark color scheme specified in the invite.

You returned home shortly after making your purchase, hanging the dress on the back of your bedroom door before heading to the shower to begin preparations for the evening.

10:00 PM rolled around much quicker than you expected, assumably because you were so focused on getting ready that you hardly glanced at the clock.

Now here you were stood before the mirror in your room, smoothing out the red dress that flattered your figure well. The heels you had on were a pair buried in your closet, which you hadn't worn in a couple years. You were happy that they were finally getting some use.

Adorning your neck was a luxurious diamond necklace and a set of matching earrings that were a gift you purchased for yourself one year for Christmas. Your hair was styled perfectly and your choice of makeup was something that matched well with the dress.

Grabbing your small purse, you stepped outside and prepared to head to your car when you spotted a sleek, black vehicle parked outside. Just as you were ready to turn around and run back inside, the window rolled down revealing a man you didn't recognize sitting in the driver's seat.

"Miss Y/n?" He asked.

"Yes. That's me." You responded hesitantly.

"Seokjin requested that I pick you up."

"He did?"

"Yes ma'am. He wanted to make sure you got to the party safely."

"Oh. Okay."

The driver stepped out and opened the door to the vehicle, making sure you got inside safely before closing it.

Seokjin hired a driver to bring you to the party?

Nerves stirred within you, twisting your insides like a pretzel and making your hands clammy. Not even the homes and buildings passing by could distract you. And how could you relax while sitting in the back of a nice, expensive car heading towards a very prestigious party? Deep down, you knew you didn't belong at such an event, but Seokjin invited you. As much as you were dreading it, there was no way you would've been able to miss the party.

"We're here." The driver announced, bringing your focus back to the present.

Just outside the window was a lofty two story house all lit up on the inside, letting you know the gathering was already in full swing.

The vehicle came to a rolling stop in front of Seokjin's home and the driver got out to open the door for you. You murmured a small thank you as you stepped out of the car and began to make your way up the stone pathway to the front door.

Someone standing at the entrance opened the door for you to which you acknowledged him with a small nod and entered the house.

Discomfort washed over you the instant you stepped into the room, taking notice of the many pairs of eyes that were glued to you. Right away you could tell that you were more than likely the only human there, feeling like you were surrounded by hungry sharks. It's not that you were scared of vampires, you were just intimidated by so many of them being around you at once.

Keeping your head down, you made your way through the crowd in hopes to find a secluded corner to stand in for the duration of the event.

Regret gnawed at you and suddenly you wished you never decided to show up in the first place.

This was a terrible idea.

You turned to go back where you came, but the crowd was so packed you didn't even want to try and make your way back through.

Much to your relief, you spotted a door that led to a private balcony; the perfect place to get some fresh air. You hastened through the crowd and squeezed past some people as discreetly as you could, trying to get to the door.

On the way to make your hasty escape, you bumped right into someone's chest, nearly knocking you off your feet.

"Woah. Are you okay?"

Lifting your gaze, you found that you had bumped into none other than Seokjin.

"Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you were there." You apologized.

"I asked if you were okay." He chuckled, ignoring your response.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Sorry for bumping into you."

"It's okay. This place is packed anyway. There's not much room to move about." He smiled softly. "Where are you running off to? You just got here."

"If I'm being honest, I'm a bit uncomfortable."

"Don't tell me it's because you're surrounded by vampires."

"Well..." You trailed off.

"You're safe, especially if you're with me."

Even though you didn't exactly feel safe, you nodded.

"Seems you wanted to go outside. We can go together if you'd like." He offered.

"I'd like that."

Some alone time with Seokjin would give you the chance to have an actual conversation with him.

He slid his hand into yours and guided you through the crowd, pulling you outside to the small balcony overlooking his well-maintained front lawn.

"You look exquisite tonight, Y/n. This dress is gorgeous."

Biting back a coy grin, you smoothed out the carmine fabric of your gown. "Thank you."

"I'm really glad you showed up."

"You are?"

"Of course. You sound surprised."

"I am. Truthfully, I was shocked to receive an invite in the first place. I don't belong here amongst all these vampires. I'm just some human. There's nothing special or extraordinary about me."

"There is." He stepped closer.

"How do you know? We've only met a handful of times."

Seokjin averted your gaze like he was nervous to answer.

"I've been... watching you."

"You what?"

"I'm sorry." He shook his head. "That came out wrong. I haven't been watching you per se. When I see you out, I can't help but stare. I find myself entranced and my eyes follow you until you're out of sight. It's creepy, I know, but you're just so breathtaking I can't seem to tear my eyes away."

Entranced. Breathtaking.

These words replayed in your head, making your heart race and you were sure he could hear it.

"Seokjin—"

"Jin." He corrected. "Call me Jin."

"Jin. Did you really mean that?"

"Every word." His hand lifted to brush your hair out of your face, quietly admiring the way the moonlight highlighted your features.

As if being pulled by an invisible force, he started to lean in closer. All the while, you stood completely still, anticipating the feeling of his soft-looking lips pressing to yours. Though you were reeling from his confession, you were still able to prepare for what was about to happen.

Jin's pink lips were mere centimeters from yours when he inhaled deeply, pulling back just enough for you to take notice.

"What's wrong?" You questioned.

He shook his head, not wanting to tell you.

"You can tell me." You gently urged.

"You smell really good."

Your brows raised.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, no. I understand. If you want to—"

"No. I can't. I don't usually drink human blood. I try to stay away from it."

"Jin, I don't mind. Really."

He met your gaze, searching your features for any signs of uncertainty. "Are you sure?"

A single nod from you confirmed.

He leaned in and kissed your lips sweetly, a single and light gesture to test the waters. Though you were caught off guard by the sudden affectionate display, you weren't opposed to it in the slightest. In fact, you wished he would place his lips upon yours one more time.

When Jin noticed the way you leaned into him, he pressed his lips to yours once more, this time for a little longer. A faint smooch sound could be heard as he parted ways, his lips ghosting along your jawline before slowly trailing down to your neck. He placed a soft kiss to the area he decided to feed from which made you suppress a shiver.

His arms slid around your waist and coaxed you closer to him, keeping you securely in his hold. The sharp sting of his fangs sinking into your skin followed a few brief seconds later. You released an involuntary gasp and clutched onto the collar of Jin's suit jacket.

In an attempt to comfort you, he began to rub your back in a slow and soothing manner, the gesture helping to relax you a bit. Needing something to focus on, your eyes shifted to the city in the distance, marveling at the pretty lights dotting the nighttime scenery.

Just as the pain started to ebb away, Jin withdrew his fangs and pulled back.

"Are you okay?" It was the first question he uttered, his red eyes slowly fading back to their natural brown.

You nodded.

"Hang on a second. Stay still."

He leaned in again and you felt him lick a stripe up your neck, causing you to shiver at the sensation.

"What did you do?"

"I healed your neck so it won't get sore and you won't have to worry about covering an ugly bite mark."

"Oh. Thank you."

"No. Thank you. You didn't have to do that, but it was a nice treat." He winked, setting your cheeks aflame.

Jin chuckled when you turned away to hide your flustered expression.

"After tonight, I'd like to see you again. I want to take you out somewhere nice where we can really get to know each other. If that's alright with you, of course."

"I would love that."

Jungkook ♱ Jimin ♱ Yoongi ♱ Taehyung ♱ Namjoon ♱ Hoseok

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz @laylasbunbunny @iammeandmeisiam @delulu18 @hyunjin-amore

[seasaltandcopper]

vampire hunter AU Pt 3

[Prev]

Summary: Teddy takes a moment alone with Mal. She and Will talk on the drive home.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Profanity, (implied) torture, violence, manhandling, dehumanization

The truck’s headlights cut a swath through the darkness, spilling across chalky gravel, stubborn weeds, and jagged chips of concrete. Moths and bugs flit through the light, throwing flickering shadows as they knocked against the bumper of the vehicle, and pinged gently off its hood.

Out in the dark, past the lights of the truck and the old factory, beyond the high, razor-wire topped walls, a pack of coyotes yipped and howled. Crickets and frogs sang their nightly lullabies. Critters screeched.

A nice, mild summer night. Routine. Almost peaceful.

Teddy glanced to the side, giving the vampire another look over as she steered him towards the truck. Mal kept his head down as he stumbled along, every few steps needing her to tighten her grip when he didn’t lift a foot high enough and caught it on the loose gravel, either tripping himself or sending it skittering off into the dark.

It looked like the effort of even walking this far was about to put him on the ground. Or maybe the gravel just hurt his feet.

Boo-fucking-hoo.

When Teddy looked closer though, she noticed the dark red smudges trailing behind him, only visible because the loose rock out here was a dusty, powdery white.

She sighed. Even if this shit was rough to walk on barefoot, it shouldn’t cut him up that bad in such a short distance. Another lingering token of the hunters' hospitality, probably. Teddy briefly wondered if he’d tried to run recently and they’d taken steps to make it a little harder if he got it into his head to try again.

He didn’t look like a flight risk. But Teddy gleaned enough from the past half hour to agree with Brooks’ original assessment: Mal wasn’t broken. Not all the way; not permanently.

Not yet.

Teddy sighed again, face rearranging into something less pensive and more irritable. “Something wrong with your feet?”

Head raising so fast it might’ve been attached to a pull-string, Mal pushed out a sharp breath through his nose. Anyone else, any other context, Teddy would’ve called it amused; she didn't know what to call it with him.

He shook his head, brows pulled together in a deep line. “No,” Mal lied, voice hoarse from disuse. He swallowed, and tacked on a more automatic sounding, “Uhm—no, sir.”

Sir, huh?

Well, Teddy wouldn’t argue with that. It sent a weird, tingling thrill all the way down to her fingertips, like grabbing hold of a live wire. Wrong in the same way it felt right, the intoxicating high of knowing you had your oldest enemy completely under your thumb.

No wonder vampires got so drunk on that kind of power.

Uninterested in pressing him for the truth—anything and everything she wanted to know she’d get out of him later—Teddy gave Mal another firm tug, and pulled him to a stop beside the old, white appliance truck.

The open bed in the back was crammed full of various tools and equipment and (mostly Will’s) junk, but a good third of the space was taken up by a white, chest style freezer.

Not the fanciest transport, but for the hunter on a budget, it’d do just fine. Secure, for her peace of mind, and sun proof, for the vampire’s. Supposedly they felt safer in small, dark places, which had led to the whole coffin-sleeping myth in the first place. Regardless, Mal would be safe on the hours-long ride back, even if it was a tight fit. He might even enjoy the chance to rest, which was sure as hell more than he deserved.

Climbing into the back, Teddy reached down to pull Mal up after her, and hauled him bodily into the truck bed with surprising ease. He grunted as he landed hard on his knees, Teddy’s iron grip around his arm the only thing keeping him from eating shit.

The side of Mal’s jaw ticked, like he was biting down on something, but he stayed bizarrely quiet. Just like he’d been the entire time. The Mal she remembered had never shut up; it was disconcerting to see him rendered practically mute.

Whispering unease slipped through Teddy’s ribs like a cold wind through bare tree branches. It rattled and sighed with the voice of doubt. She shook her head and let it pass. Grimaced.

No, it was him. It had to be him. The tip, everything the hunters here confirmed over the call, even his own reaction to the name was all but proof.

But—

You’d feel pretty damn silly if you went through all this trouble and got home with the wrong guy.

“Alright, stop,” Teddy ordered, halting the vampire before he could get up off his knees. He’d been staring at the freezer uneasily, but one word was enough for his attention to snap back to her. “Hold still. I wanna get a better look at you.”

Reaching down, Teddy cupped his jaw, tilting his head back so they were staring eye to eye. She felt the subtle flinch, the way Mal’s whole body seemed to pull taut at the contact, how badly he obviously wanted her hands off him.

But other than the flare of nostrils as he pulled in a breath, he maintained a surprisingly good poker face. No fighting, no struggling. Not even a peep of sass.

Teddy grimaced again at the tackiness of Mal’s skin, built up residue of god knew what covering him. Patchy stubble scratched at her fingertips. She brushed loose strands of hair out of his face, roughly tugged a couple chunks free where’d they’d caught under the muzzle straps, ignoring his wince.

His hair looked longer than she remembered, hanging just past his jaw. Uneven in places, like he’d lost patches of it at some point, and was only partly regrown. With all the filth, the color was indiscernible—it could’ve been red. Or anything from medium blond to brown originally. And if he had freckles, Teddy sure as hell couldn’t see them beneath the filth.

Eugh.

A sigh. “Mal,” Teddy said, like she was testing the name against some metric. “You are Mal, right?”

She felt his throat work as he swallowed. The look he gave her reminded Teddy of a wild animal, caught in a trap. Slowly, Mal nodded. Then managed a raspy, “Who—who are you?”

“Teddy,” she answered flatly. A steel bite undercut the words. “But you know what, I kinda like the sound of “Sir”, so let’s stick with that.”

She noted the complete lack of recognition at the drop of her name. Mild confusion that seamlessly melted into acceptance, hastily buried under a glaze of apathy. Another jerky little nod at the second half of her statement.

Something about it pissed Teddy off; the surge of her own fury took her by surprise, capsizing her better judgment before she could reign in her temper.

Fingers curling, she dug her nails savagely into Mal’s jaw, wrenching his head back until she felt the tendons in his neck straining at the angle, needing—something. A real reaction. Anger, pain, fear, it didn’t matter, Teddy just needed to know the monster still felt something the way she did, some dim reflection of the turmoil raging inside her like a storm.

Mal made a sound, quiet, against her hand. He wasn’t looking at her with apathy now. Blinded by her own rage, all Teddy could think was that it wasn’t enough.

Both of them shook. Little tremors traveled between them seamlessly, like an electric current.

Just get him home, a more sensible part of herself insisted, you’re so close, don’t blow it all now for a cheap shot.

Teeth grinding, Teddy stared down, wild eyed at her captive.

Shit.

Teddy released Mal abruptly, shoving him away from her. He landed hard, metal rattling against the truck bed. “Just go.” A disgusted noise rumbled in her throat, and she scrubbed the hand clean on her dark jeans. “Fucking leech bastard.”

Rising, Teddy pulled Mal along with her to the freezer, ignoring his startled yelp and the clatter of limbs hitting the truck bed as he tried to help rather than simply get dragged. He ended up on his side, slumped against the freezer, wide-eyed and staring up at her.

“But you wanna know who I am—?” Shoving open the lid, Teddy paused long enough to answer Mal’s question. “I’m your worst fucking nightmare.”

Teddy pushed out a rough sigh and slammed the driver’s side door closed behind her. Both hands braced against the wheel to stop them from shaking. She curled them around worn, familiar plastic, tightening her grip until it creaked, and the crisscross of white and pink scars stood out across the backs of her hands like lines on a map.

Her pulse slammed in her own ears. Too loud. Something under her ribs ached, like a stitch in her side from running too long.

Ten years. Ten fucking years.

And a whole damn lifetime of nightmares, jumping at shadows, wondering if she’d ever get closure for any of it.

Slouched quietly in the passenger’s seat, Will tapped out a cigarette and the world finally shook itself back into some kind of order. She waited for the familiar flickflickflick of his lighter, the sharp burn of tobacco and paper, before breaking the silence.

Rituals, Teddy came to realize over the years, were important. There was a reason magic thrived on them, that countless human societies were structured around them. Even mundane ones carried weight.

She breathed in deeply, taking comfort in the familiar burn of secondhand smoke. Let it out again, slow and controlled.

“Yeah, it’s Mal,” she said. The words came from someone else’s mouth. “Son of a bitch didn’t recognize me, but I got that much out of him. Shit.”

Teddy wished she’d kicked him in the teeth before locking him up. Given the bloodsucker something to think about on the ride home.

She’d stayed calm until her slip a moment ago. Cool, collected, distanced from it all—outwardly, at least. But once she gave it some slack, the dam keeping all those ugly emotions and nearly thirty years of pain and fear-fueled rage at bay started to crack.

“Dude looked pretty messed up already.” Spoken as mellow and unruffled as everything else that came out of Will’s mouth. He took a drag and blew the smoke out the window, one long, thin stream. “Guess these guys had him for a while, huh?”

Something sharp edged into Teddy’s voice. “I don’t give a shit what those hunters did to him.” She held the wheel in a death grip. “Hell, whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. That isn’t even close to what that leech deserves, not after what they did to us.”

Briefly, her gaze slid sideways, settling on Will. Unlike Teddy, he rarely bothered to hide his scars. On a warm night like this, a t-shirt left plenty of exposed skin. All of it told a story.

An ugly, bloody one.

Dozens of bite scars crawled from his wrists up past the crook of his elbows. More bloomed from beneath the neck of his shirt. And those were just the ones she could see—

Teddy sneered, then buckled her seatbelt. She threw the truck in drive and pulled out, flinging gravel and fishtailing for a second before she regained control. She flicked a salute to the hunters at the gate as they waved her through.

Humming in annoyance as the abrupt acceleration knocked a clump of ash loose onto his shirt, Will grimaced and brushed at it. It smudged, gray crushing into the warm yellow fabric.

“Jeeze, Teddy, ease off a little.” Sighing, Will abandoned the effort to save his shirt. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I know why you need this.” Even if Will didn’t.

But he got it, and no matter how gruesome or bloody a path Teddy chose to walk, Will followed. She had no doubt he’d follow her to hell and back, something that brought equal parts reassurance and guilt these days.

Teddy knew all of that. Just like they both knew it wasn’t really him she was mad at. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Forcing herself to ease off the accelerator, Teddy fixed her gaze out the front windshield. Now that they’d passed out of the compound, the sky opened up overhead. Like the ceiling of a black cathedral, speckled with thousands of points of dim, distant light.

Here, in the swath of no man’s land between established territories, very few dedicated settlements persisted—human or vampire. Just hunters, lone wolf types without a coven to claim them, and a handful of civilians too stubborn to leave their homesteads, preferring to protect their land or die trying.

It wasn’t all bad, though. Just quiet. Dark. Empty.

Things most humans feared. Things that had frighted Teddy once, too, but didn’t anymore.

“Whoa, Teddy, check it out—you can see the Milky Way tonight. Awesome.”

Pushing out an amused snort, she glanced over at Will. “You can always see the Milky Way out here.”

“Not when it’s cloudy,” Will pointed out brightly, grinning. “Or raining.”

“Right.” A good natured roll of her eyes, and Teddy leaned back into her seat. Relaxed the white knuckled grip she’d had on the wheel and pulled off the gravel road onto a proper paved one.

Little tremors still zipped down her arms, but the distraction kept the threat of spiraling into darker memories at bay.

Picking a thumbnail at the wheel, Teddy kept her eyes on the road as she said, “Thanks. For staying.” For everything.

Nothing would go back to the way it was before. The kids they’d been, all those years ago, were dead and buried. Even vengeance couldn’t change that.

But maybe closure could give them a better future to look forward to, after.

Smiling, Will slouched lower in his seat and flipped on the radio. Only a couple stations reached out this far, and of those two only one played music. Old country. Blues. Folk songs that had a distant crackle to them even without the fuzz of interference.

Will’s easy-going chuckle drifted over the crooning of a singer who'd died before they were born. “Well, someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.”

AN: those of you who saw the teaser I posted a while back might be wondering where that went, and the answer is the second half of chapter three is now becoming chapter four because this is already so long lol

I want to lay the ground work now though, and start establishing these characters properly. Even if that means taking a little more time.

Taglist: @whumpsday @writereleaserepeat @thecyrulik @lookbluesoup @cinnamon-roll-whump @whumpwillow @bloodinkandashes @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

[lance-space-mommy]

Oh, God. It Talks?

Izuku wiped his face, having cleaned off the filth that covered it. Having your face dunked in the toilet was common when you were quirkless. People wanted you to die so they’d make you feel like you were. Having face wash was a necessity, he’d always wash off when the bullies left. They never stuck around because deep down they were cowards.

Izuku huffed, walking out of the bathroom feeling fatigued. Even if the day had dragged on and crushed his spirit he wasn’t going to let his bullies win. He was going to push forward and achieve the great things that he wants. Spite was a leading factor, but Izuku also wanted to do it for his mom. Inko tried so hard every day and he wanted her to no longer worry.

The school was empty, most people headed off to their extracurriculars. Izuku sighed, pushing open the entrance door. Midoriya took a deep breath and relished in the sun. He could smell the grass and feel the breeze. There were no fluorescent lights or body odor to ruin his mood.

Izuku remembered Inko needed a couple of groceries so he headed off to run a quick errand. Inko had forgotten to go to a second store to grab the things she needed, but Izuku offered to get them.

Izuku reached his destination quickly and found what he needed. Izuku happily chatted with the cashier. Casual conversations were easy to get through with young adults.

Izuku left the store with his tote bag of groceries. His backpack always carried a tote bag in case he saw hero merchandise on his way home. The streets were busy, but not overwhelming. The flow of traffic was relaxing, with no villains to be seen.

When Izuku was waiting by the crosswalk, he was approached by two teens around his age, probably first-years in high school.

“Hey, would you be interested in having a deep talk with us really quick for a video?” asked the boy, seeming to already be recording.

Izuku saw no harm in it, he didn’t have anything on him that needed to be refrigerated. Besides, he still had an hour or two until Inko would start dinner. Flashing a shy smile, Izuku nodded. “Yes, I have a couple of minutes to spare.”

“Sweet, come over to the benches and we will talk,” instructed the one boy. He had crazy blue and white hair, pink eyes, and wore a nice outfit. It consisted of some nice dress pants and a loose-fitting, white button-up. He stood a foot taller than Izuku had had a charming smile.

The other person was holding the camera. They remained silent, which Midoriya assumed was because of a quirk judging by the symbols near their mouth. They had long black hair clipped back and grey eyes. They were around Izuku’s height.

They sat in front of a fountain, people could be seen walking past in the background. The scene was serene. The boy bowed quickly and introduced himself. “Thank you for agreeing to this, my name is Tobei Nishioka.”

Izuku quickly bowed back, a smile still on his face. “The pleasure is all mine. It's lovely meeting you Nishioka, I’m Izuku Midoriya.”

Nishioka felt his cheeks heat up, enamored by the powerfully kind boy before him. “Lovely meeting you too. Now let’s jump right into the good stuff.”

Pulling out his phone, there was a microphone attached to the end. Nishioka held it up to his mouth. “Are you an above-average person?”

Midoriya tilted his head, the gears in his head already turning. “In what sense?”

“Overall.”

“I don’t think anyone’s above average. I think everyone’s just different,” answered Midoriya honestly, clearly sure of his opinion. Excited about the deep questions, Midoriya complimented Nishioka chirping, “That’s an interesting question though.”

Smiling back, Nishioka realized this was going to be a good video with a good-hearted individual. Nishioka began asking questions he personally wanted to know the answers to. “You don’t think some people are better than others?”

Izuku bit his lip, raising his head to the sky in thought. “Hmm. Better… depends. I think there are maybe more good—there are people that generally tend to do more good. I would probably define that as a better person if you were to ask me. But uhm, better in any other sense; No, I think everyone’s very different.”

Nishioka looked at Izuku with a bright grin, loving the well-explained answers and the meticulous efforts put into giving an honest answer. There was something about Izuku’s energy that was refreshing. He was happy to do this interview. “What about how they contribute to the world?”

Izuku’s smile faded momentarily, reminded of his quirklessness. He was always told he couldn’t contribute to anything because of his lack of a quirk. Despite the question subtly striking a nerve, he knew his answer.

Nishioka noticed the wave of insecurity that captured Izuku for a split second. Nishioka instantly grew worried he said something insensitive or hurt Izuku’s feelings. He held his tongue when he saw Izuku nod like he was giving a shameful confession.

“Then yeah I would say there are better people than others,” replied Izuku, looking up at Nishioka with a kind look despite the doubt he definitely had felt inside.

Nishioka couldn’t help but smile, strangely moved by Izuku. “Are you one of them?”

Izuku face lit up, practically glowing upon taking a breath to answer. “Uh, not yet. I’m trying to be. I’m getting there. That’s my goal. So, we’ll see,” chuckled Izuku at the end, his voice and laughter so sweet even the boy holding the camera stilled for a moment.

Nishioka laughed himself, never having reacted this way to an interviewee before. “I hope you reach that goal, whatever it may be. Now… what is your favorite color?”

Izuku covered his mouth as he held in a laugh at the sudden shift in the questions. “Well, it use to be red because of my shoes. But recently, my heart rushes to a vibrant fulvous orange.”

“I love it! Green on the outside, orange on the inside,” teased Nishioka, causing Izuku’s eyes to go wide.

Izuku looked down bashfully, never having a conversation with some around his age go so smoothly. Even if they didn’t know he was quirkless, the kindness he received with it hidden was enough.

Nishioka moved on to the next question. “What gives you the motivation to keep going?”

Izuku pondered for a moment, huffing in frustration. “I have more than one answer.”

“Go for it! This is deep talk after all,” reassured Nishioka, shifting himself to face Izuku better.

“Fear of failure. I’ve grown up being told I am a failure so I keep pushing forwards in the hopes that I’m not actually,” confessed Izuku, his smile stiffening as the recalls the dozens upon dozens of people who told him he was worthless.

Nishioka’s eyes widened, stunned anyone could say something remotely mean to the gentle and comforting presence of Izuku. He remained silent, letting Izuku continue.

“Spite as well. Every time anyone has ever said, I can’t do that or I shouldn’t do x,y,z. I think of that every time I wanna do something,” explained Izuku proudly, an accomplished smile on his face as he spoke up about it.

Nishioka could tell that wasn’t it and wanted to push Izuku to speak about it and get out of his head. “It seems like you have another form of motivation.”

“Yes… it’s my mom actually,” revealed Izuku with a reserved smile plastered on his face. The mere thought of Inko gave Izuku strength.

“That’s sweet. Is there any specific reason why?” inquired Nishioka, curious about the deeper meaning.

Izuku smiled, happy to talk about why his mother was amazing and how she brought him motivation. “She’s a beautiful person, and I just want to, like—be like her. I don’t come from a fortunate family. My fathers across the world working with the government so we can’t talk to him. So it’s just me and my mother. So when I think about, y’know… living I just think of my mom. She worries for me a lot, and I just want to support her and make her not worry. I love her.”

“That’s a wonderful answer. It sounds like you are extremely close with her,” complimented Nishioka earnestly, feeling a strong urge to protect Izuku.

“I am really close with her. We are all each other has. She’s a stay-at-home mom, and I am an outcast of society,” joked Izuku, the seemingly self-destructive joke being a habit of Izuku.

Nishioka fired the next question, a flame in his eye. “When was your happiest moment?”

Izuku’s cheeks turned red, seemingly embarrassed. “Last summer, when I went to a beach resort for the first time with my mom. I never felt more at peace than in that moment of solitude alone with my mom.”

“Wow, that’s oddly adorable. Have you never been to the beach before then?” questioned Nishioka, curious as to how he had never been when beaches were all around.

“No, I refused to! I would never to a beach around here,” gasped Izuku, half dying from the fact the beach next to his house was a garbage can for the public.

Nishioka laughed at the dramatic reaching, rocking back as he fixed his grip on the microphone. “That’s interesting, I can understand wanting to travel to do something special like that. When was the last time you cried?”

Without missing a beat, Izuku answered, “Yesterday.”

Getting whiplash from the immediate answer, Nishioka choked on the air, coughing quickly. “Why?”

Izuku shifted on the bench, resting his hands on his lap. “I tend to get overwhelmed easily. School is a nightmare and when I get home is usually the first time I feel safe during the day.”

“Why’s that? Do you feel safe now?” questioned Nishioka, extremely worried for Izuku’s safety.

Izuku shook his head, offering a weak smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Not really, but you get used to feeling that way. It becomes normal.”

Izuku’s phone started ringing. Izuku froze checking the contact to see that it was his mom. “Oh, it’s my mother.”

Izuku answered the call, shamelessly putting it on speaker. “Hello, Mom!”

“Hi, Sweetheart. I know you got off school not too long ago, but you’re at the shops now right?” The sweet motherly voice came out from the other end of the call.

“I actually was heading back from picking up the groceries. Why? Is everything alright?” asked Izuku, fondness in his eyes and amusement in his tone.

“Yep! I was just checking in, thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver,” cried Inko, so grateful for Izuku.

Izuku beamed at the praise, glad to be helpful and recognized for it. “Please, you’re the lifesaver. Anyways I should be home soon.”

“Okay Sweetie, see you soon. I love you.”

“I love you too Mom, bye.”

The call ended and Izuku sat down his phone. “That short phone call made my day one hundred percent better.”

Nishioka smiled, loving the healthy relationship between Izuku and Inko. There was a strong foundation of love that was clearly unbreakable. “It’s admirable how strong your bond is with her.”

“Thank you. I’m sure she’d appreciate hearing that as well. I’m very sorry, but I must be going,” apologized Izuku, grabbing his tote bag.

Nishioka rose to his feet, preparing to wrap up for the day. “It was an honor to have a deep conversation with you. Do you have any social media we can use to identify you?”

“Oh, I apologize, but my social media is a secret.”

Nishioka nodded, backing off. “That’s perfectly fine! I am curious about why it’s a secret though.”

Izuku stands up as well, fiddling with the straps of the tote bag. “Well, I used to be cyberbullied severely and people tried to doxx me and hack my account.”

Nishioka’s eyes widened, his heart breaking for someone as wonderful as Izuku. “That’s horrible! Why would anyone bully someone as kind and pretty as you?”

“Oh, I’m quirkless. My school is built on a quirk-based hierarchy. Word spreads fast,” laughed Midoriya uncomfortably, clearly knowing he ruined whatever interaction he just had.

“That’s horrible. Well, I’ll keep your social media safe. Is there any way I can get your number? I’d love to have someone as down to earth as you in my life,” admitted Nishioka, blushing as he pulled out his phone.

Izuku’s cheeks turned bright red, resembling strawberries. “Oh! Of course!”

“Sweet, okay! Here,” said Nishioka breathlessly, handing his phone to Izuku with a bright smile.

Izuku held the phone with both hands securely, typing in his number, and name before quickly sending a message to himself. “There.”

Checking his phone, Izuku held it up with a smile. “I got the text. Care to put your name in my phone?”

Nishioka excitedly took the phone, typing in his name. He handed the phone back with sweaty palms. “I’m glad I approached you today. I’ll let you get back to your mother.”

“I’m happy you approached me as well. It was lovely meeting you and your friend, see yah,” bowed Midoriya before walking away.

Nishioka turned to his friend who was still recording and melted to the floor. “He’s so perfect it hurts.”

His friend who recorded all of his videos, a person who never spoke, agreed, “He looks too nice to be bullied. How could anyone be mean to him.”

“Right? Like all because he’s quirkless. Whatever, he has us now right dude?”

“Totally.”

1 day later

The video was uploaded and views were wracking in. Suddenly the video blew up and took the world by storm. Izuku had gained millions of supporters in seconds.

Izuku's sweet personality and soothing voice had charmed many. It was only a matter of time till Aldera Junior High got their hands on the video.

The events were cropped a bit of Izuku being approached and Nishioka and him introducing themselves. Many were surprised to see his open body language and willingness to answer any question asked to him.

When Midoriya answered the first question, many were pleasantly surprised by his answer. He viewed everyone under the same lens and recognized no one could really be put on a scale when no one was the same.

In a way, it was validating to hear that when they were all so obsessed with their quirks. They did laugh when he stated a person's contributions to the world did make one person better than another. They enjoyed seeing him “know his place”.

Their laughter disappeared immediately after they laughed when he claimed he was working to become something more than what he currently is.

When Izuku answered the simple question of what his favorite color was, many were surprised. No one knew anything about him so hearing his favorite color being a vibrant fulvous orange was a big thing for them.

There was something about his answer that was very sophisticated. The very specific type of orange was something that caught their attention. They all looked up what his favorite color looked like. They were curious.

When the following question approached, many’s jaws dropped. There was something about hearing him open up about how he was still going that haunted them. Fear of failure, spite, and his mom. Knowing he was deeply affected by their words managed to surprise them even though they were aware they bullied him all the time every day. To know he wanted to avoid being a failure by the odd chance he wasn’t despite believing he was, stung.

Izuku was running forward blindly, going off of the hope that life was worth living. While they were caught off guard by his first reason, spite shocked them just as hard. All their attempts to get him to give him only encouraged and empowered him to accomplish his goals.

When it came to his last reason, the sadness kicked in. Many had their usual teen vs. parent relationship going on. Even if that was happening at home, they still loved their parents. Hearing Izuku talk so fondly about his loving mother sent guilt kicking their gut. They could only imagine a hard-working woman that looked similar to Izuku being this golden light to him. It was painfully adorable.

Some students could understand Izuku in terms of an absent parent. Divorced parents, dead parent(s), absent parent(s), or neglectful parent(s). Those who could relate understood the pain of feeling unwanted. It was nice to hear him push forward for the sake of his mom.

There was something in Izuku’s voice that made him sound lethargic. They could hear how he was exhausted but he ignored it for the sake of promising his mother a brighter future.

Bakugo understood why. Inko and Izuku were all each other had.

When Izuku was asked about his happiest moment, a grand majority were interested in hearing his response. From what they knew, it definitely wasn’t going to be anything about school.

They didn’t know much about Izuku outside of school so it would be a surprise whatever his answer was. So when Izuku revealed his happiest moment was going to the beach for the first time, it stuck with many. Maybe it was the fact it was such a simple moment that Izuku chose to cherish.

Everyone groaned at the following question. Izuku cried all the time so they all mentally noted it would be “an hour ago” or “today”. So it was obvious that no one was surprised by his answer. What did surprise them was his reason for crying. No one expected him to openly express his issues with school. No one expected him to say something so powerful that it would haunt them for the rest of the day.

It finally clicked that Izuku felt unsafe in school. They knew why, but it was still a slap to the face to hear him admit it. If that wasn’t enough, he cried because he finally relaxed for the first time that day. That statement tore Bakugo up inside.

The phone call was a wholesome moment. Inko’s voice was more sweet than anyone had thought. Bakugo had actually relaxed upon hearing the soothing voice again after so long.

When Izuku was asked for his social media, many were surprised to hear him shut that request down. No one at Aldera knew he had social media. Hell, when they tried to find it they came up with nothing. It made sense though. They had driven him off social media once. They never thought he got back on.

What they also weren’t aware of, was that he had been attacked by people who didn’t even know him because he was quirkless. His safety was at risk and he had to shut it down to keep him and his mother protected.

Bakugo and his lackeys had watched the video in horror. They were unaware this had been happening. None of the three were active on social media enough. They didn’t care about Izuku enough to find his account and bully him outside of school. This was all new news to them.

The thing that caught everyone off guard was that Izuku openly admitted he was quirkless. Izuku not only exposed himself but Aldera as well. The way he phrased it really put things into perspective. He made everyone realize they were contributing to the toxic environment based on a “quirk-based hierarchy”.

When their hearts were already beating hard enough, they nearly went into cardiac arrest when Nishioka asked Izuku for his number. No one could believe what they were watching. Izuku got hit on. Someone genuinely took interest in Izuku, well aware he was quirkless. Many were embarrassed by how shocked they were. Part of their shock was from how Izuku was getting advances while they were still hopelessly single.

When Izuku gave his number to Nishioka, the less uppity of his peers were actually happy. There was something exciting about seeing Izuku have an intimate moment with someone. They were able to see Izuku in a new light and learn some facts about him.

The video had blown up and Izuku was trending. This started an uproar about quirkless/quirk discrimination. The conversation started and it was all because this video was the final push. It was clear Aldera Junior High would be in some hot water soon.

When the next day rolled around and Izuku came to school, he was flipping through his notebook. Many watched him through the day, beyond curious about him. After seeing a side to him no one knew about, they wondered what else they didn’t know. Information they didn’t care about before was suddenly craved.

When lunch rolled around, Izuku finally got on his phone. He scrolled through the popular social media apps to stay in the loop before texting his mom and some other people. Nishioka was clearly one of them.

Students all gossiped with one another, jumping to conclusions and making crazy assumptions about Izuku’s life.

Izuku sat alone, carefree as he scribbled in his notebook. Izuku would pick at his food as he worked, savoring each bite. When lunch was over, Izuku quickly slipped his notebook away and brought out his textbook. People’s eyes were trained on him, but he never paid any mind. He was used to the stares so why would he suddenly meet their gaze?

Throughout classes, people paid close attention to Izuku’s expressions and mannerisms. It was easy to notice that he didn’t hide his emotions well. His face would scrunch up at the teacher numerous times throughout the lesson.

When one of his classmates said something stupid to answer the question, he would thin his lips in an attempt not to laugh. Izuku had been judging everyone all along, but everyone was too self-absorbed to notice.

Izuku rose from his seat, slipping his book bag over his shoulder. Katsuki approached Izuku. Izuku had been anticipating an attack all day and assumed it was finally coming. Unfortunately, Izuku was hit with a:

“We need to talk.”

Izuku was led to a discreet restaurant hidden in the street alley. Katsuki guided him inside and the duo sat down at a table, the dining area was close to empty. Katsuki told Izuku to order anything he wanted and Izuku ordered cold soba and warm dumplings.

Izuku took a sip of his water before starting the conversation. “What did you need to talk to me about Kacchan?”

“I saw the video,” answered Katsuki bluntly, getting straight to the point.

Izuku went ghostly pale, beginning to wave his hands in panic. “I swear none of it was directed at you!”

Katsuki pinched Izuku’s cheek. “Shut it. Let me speak.”

Izuku turned a bright red, nodding shyly.

"Look, I couldn't give less of a shit about what you think of me," lied Katsuki. "I just hope you know those random extras bullying you online are nothing but cowards. They aren't worth your time."

"Oh," whispered Izuku, surprised that was what Katsuki wanted to talk about. "Thank you, Kacchan. It happened our first year at Aldera."

Katsuki raised a brow, leaning back in his seat. "Does Aunty know about any of this?"

Izuku frowned, shaking his head. "No. She doesn't know anything. I cover up my injuries to make sure there is nothing for her to be suspicious of."

"Why?"

"I don't want her to worry. I don't want her to worry about me being stuck at Aldera if she can't afford to transfer me to another school. I don't want her only friendship to be ruined if she finds out you are a part of it. It's easier to just suck it up for another year."

"Makes sense... is that loser treating you well?"

"Huh? Oh—Nishioka! Yes, he's very funny and kind," replied Izuku in a happy tone. It's been so long since someone took an interest in him. That he couldn't help but feel like a little kid thinking about it.

"Good. It seems like he's not the only one in love with you. There are a whole bunch of people in love with you judging by the comments of the video," scoffed Katsuki. The blond pretended to be disinterested, but he was still surprised at the support sent Izuku's way.

"Yeah, I'm really flattered... but I doubt it. No one would willingly risk ruining their future by quirk discrimination. People follow the herd and no one likes to be an outcast," huffed Izuku, grabbing his glass of water.

Katsuki nodded, his scowl deepening. "Yeah, just like everyone at our school follows me like losers."

Izuku couldn't help but laugh, his head bobbing up and down. "No kidding. It's kind of creepy how even the adults have these incredibly high expectations of you."

Katsuki paused, feeling his shoulders tense up. "Well of course they would. I'm a future U.A. student Deku."

"Of course, Kacchan," agreed Izuku, not a single doubt in his mind Katsuki would get in.

"I hope you meant what you said in that video Deku. If you show up at the U.A. entrance exam and fail, I'll kill you nerd!" yelled Katsuki, surprising Izuku.

"I won't fail. Just watch me-."

The server cut them off, placing two plates on the table "Soba, dumplings, and extra spicy curry."

The two decided to just end their conversation there and eat. It was a bit awkward, but Izuku would much rather prefer feeling awkward than uncomfortable. Who would've thought he'd be having dinner with his childhood friend turned bully?

[xynchronicity]

Go into my inbox and tell me a situation you’d love to see my muse go through.

@discountedmuses said: Since I seem to be a glutton for angst, Reaps finding out Brann was killed during a mission >:3

//You and me both lmao

tw: angst, character death, grief/grieving

The wraith had been antsy the entire time Brann was gone. He trusted his little knight out on missions, but this one didn't sit well with him. He kept himself busy with things or rather Moira did. Which helped keep his mind off of things.

When the time came that the dropship returned, Reaps was there, watching as people filed out of the ship. He never saw Brann, though. Hell, it seemed those from the mission seemed to avoid the wraith, fearing him for an entirely different reason than normal. He simply huffed in annoyance then grabbed the nearest agent, "Where is he?"

The agent shrunk under the wraith's gaze, "He...didn't make it, sir."

Reaps stared at the agent a long moment, brows furrowing beneath his mask before anger took over. "Liar," he growled out, squeezing the agent's arm until it broke. He pushed the agent away and then marched back into the base. He refused to believe that of everyone his knight was the one that didn't make it back. No, this wasn't right.

Gathering his gear, he was determined to set out and find his knight himself. He needed to see it for himself. Word of mouth wasn't good enough for him.

The wraith set out himself using his abilities to traverse the world. When he reached the destination their mission was, he scoured the area. He left no stone unturned. Eventually, he did find his little knight amongst some rubble. As Reaps knelt down beside his body, he took his mask off, dropping it to the ground. His red eyes take in the damage.

He gathered Brann's body in his arms and made his way back. They didn't even bother to find his knight to-...he expected too much of Talon. They're heartless and cold. Brann didn't deserve this fate, he deserved better. The trip back allowed Reaps to steel his emotions into a singular rage.

"Ma'am, he went-" The voice was cut off by another, "I know. Foolishly he got attached." Moira wasn't surprised Reaps went to find his little pet's body. She expected it. Another thing to add to her list to work out of his behavior. The redhead gave the wraith enough time to have his moment, counting down the minutes until he returned as she awaited his return.

Reaps took his time getting back, only using his abilities to traverse buildings or other obstacles but otherwise walked back. Seeing the man on the horizon with his pet in tow made Moira smirk. As he came closer, she spoke up, "I'm disappointed, wraith." Said wraith simply walked past her, paying her no mind. "I gave the order," she suddenly said, glancing over her shoulder at him.

This caused Reaps to stop in his tracks. His grip on Brann's body tightened, red eyes glancing down at the body with anger. Not at him, but for her. "You always do," he replied then continued walking. He knew better than to entertain her. Yet he always did even if he tried not to. She simply enjoyed getting underneath his skin and she was an expert at it.

The wraith ignored any medical staff urging him to release the body so they could take care of it. His knight was - is - his responsibility. He took the necessary steps even going so far as to bury his little knight himself. He found it fitting to bury him beside an empty grave the wraith made years prior in a little field a ways from the base. The empty one was labeled 'Gabriel' for obvious reasons.

However, he took more care and time with Brann's grave. He meant a lot to the wraith and he wanted to show that even if he never got the chance to while he was alive. He visited it often. Often times sat in silence beside it, other times speaking to it like his knight was still there. Even placed some flowers on the grave.

"Te amo, little knight."

[neon-lights-stardust-nights]

I have decided to largely supplant my s/i into V’s place. I say “supplant,” because I’m torn on if I want all the same backstory V already has in game? Things like Jackie and shit. I love them, but I want to write my own backstory + how they ended up getting that job! Their own former crew! I also wanted to pick my own runner name. Until that’s chosen though, my supplanting-V-in-the-narrative-s/i just uses Sanya.

Vaguely implied to be pre-relationship! This is also my first time writing Silverhand, so sorry if it’s a little disjointed. I’m about 10 hours into the game, but I’ve been doing lots of sidequests since I hit the 6 hour mark. I only ride around on Jackie’s bike :(

It turned out all the implants in the world didn’t make you 100% impervious to drugs. Actually, now that Sanya thought about it, maybe there was something you could get for your immune system that did that. Perhaps the fact that thought came after the before mentioned bitter realization about faers own implants should be a testament to how addled fae felt. Those sure did do a number on faer.

Fae wasn’t restrained beyond some handcuffs. If faers motor control was a little more in faers own hands—perhaps fae would’ve just dislocated faers thumb. As it stood: Sanya did not even think to do such a thing. Those cuffs were looped around part of the chair’s back, keeping faer upright by proxy. It was a good thing (in the goal of faer not falling over,) because Sanya would’ve loved to give that cold, gray, concrete ground a good, old fashioned kiss. The light was sparse, only a single hanging bulb.

“This feels like shit from a movie,” and Sanya didn’t have the graces to say it in faers head.

Silence. Fitting. Fae looked around, squinting blearily through the black for literally anything. There was the vague idea of a door through it, barely having any of the sterile, white light splashed its direction. That was the only apparent exit.

Johnny finally decided to make himself known, appearing out of particles and other glitching effects. “You look like shit.”

“Great opener.”

“In your head,” he chided. “Wanna sound like a lunatic in front of your captors?”

Sanya shrugged one shoulder, action lazy and half committed to. “They kidnapped me. They can think whatever the hell they want about me. What kind of narcissist would care about that kind of crap?”

“Pot, meet kettle.” He came to stand in front of the chair, squatting down with his heels against the ground. “Don’t lie to me, kiddo. I can hear everything going on up there.”

A roll of the eyes with too much head motion attached—faers world went spinning quick. On some level, Sanya was glad Johnny was psuedo-physical to faer. Him reaching out and grabbing faer by the shoulder gave an odd sense of stability that Sanya was grasping at rather futilely. “Hey, hey. Keep your head on straight.”

“Right.”

The door opened then. Some dickwad coated in chrome was waltzing in, half his face a gold that would’ve been much prettier if it didn’t belong to someone likely here to kill and/or torture them. Both of them—plural. Johnny knew he went down with the ship. Sanya looked at him, not Johnny. Watching him stroll up like a 15,000,000 dollar golden calf.

Johnny squinted at faer. “The fuck does that mean?”

Sanya was glad the golden bitch couldn’t hear Johnny, because fae didn’t feel like explaining. That rippled back to Johnny, who got his turn to roll his eyes over an interaction. The fucker stopped beside the chair. There was someone bracketing each side now, which Sanya found oddly amusing—even if one of those people was really the cybernetic version of a ghost.

And only Sanya could hear or see him.

This was falling apart as fast as he was reaching for Sanya’s chin, tipping it up for eye contact. With a delicate nature that Sanya was sure would leave in a harsh whip crack eventually, faers captor tucked the long hair that covered half faers face out of view. The eye under it wasn’t blind exactly, it just also wasn’t worth seeing out of. Though the opposite eye was a perfectly intimidating black with a red ring indicating the idea of a scalera or pupil or anything even remotely helpful to telling where fae was looking, this newly uncovered eye was covered in the frameworks of visual glitches. A screen that refused to display properly, like a computer with a graphics card well and being overloaded. Tearing, among other things, riddled the image.

“So that’s why you cover it,” their gruff voice rang in comment.

Johnny’s head flicked to the side, focusing elsewhere to some extent. To whatever extent their shared sensory experiences allowed. Sanya just focused up, “maybe. You don’t know that.”

“Jesus and Mary, you’re sure slurring everything.” They laughed a scoffing sort of laugh, and Sanya couldn’t help wishing Johnny had told faer. Suddenly, fae was a little self conscious. Okay, yeah. Pot and kettle are officially well acquainted.

“Maybe the other eye ought to match.” A knife was produced from somewhere just below faers field of vision—and Sanya tried to struggle. Fae really did. Everything was weak and lagging from whatever concoction they used to even get faer here in the first place.

Johnny was walking around the back of the chair now, phasing through this golden bastard the way only constructs could. They were trying to hold faers face still as he came to a halt in front of the chair—toward the edges of faers peripheral vision. “You just going to let this fucker get away with this?”

He was trying to work faer up, and fae knew. The way he leaned in, grabbed faer aggressively this time (not the stablizing hand on the shoulder from before.) He shook faer a little—aiding faers process in trying to struggle away.

“He’s bringing a knife to your eye, and you’re just going to let him?” The knife was actually getting rather close. Sanya heart rate was sky rocketing, and it looked like it was getting to Johnny a little too. Fae couldn’t see behind his sunglasses to say for sure, but fae got the impression he wasn’t looking right at faer from the way his head turned a little.

The knife wasn’t thin. It was meant for combat. They didn’t make knives for surgical precision and sell them for fighting. Sanya swallowed one scream as it worked between the optic implant and the very human flesh and skull. The second scream escaped, however—as the captor chuckled and pried upward with the knife. There were sparks and broken wires. The sound of bending metal punctuated the fact that (though Johnny was still standing there, next to where that eye was,) fae couldn’t see him anymore. It was black nothing, no signal going back from them to faers opitcal lobe.

When they let go, fae immediately double over. A slow trickle of blood came crawling down the exposed bits of wire, the distorted metal, the skin that was around it. Johnny reappeared at the other side, where fae could see him. The faulty eye was a little more difficult to see through, but anything felt like a godsend right now.

“Don’t just sit there,” Johnny called. Hands up—then they smacked against his pants. “Get the fuck up! Dislocate your thumb, and punch this sucker in the face!”

Sanya started to move faers hands—he was right. He had a point. Johnny spoke of survival at the moment. Sanya wanted nothing more than to get out of here, but then the knife connected with shoulder. Everything felt white hot in a way that only excruciating pain every could. Johnny recoiled a little.

Then (and this surprised faer,) he switched gears. A stomp, a hand that went through the bastard. “Don’t touch faer!”

He huffed a few times, the bastard twisted the knife. Johnny resolved to come back behind the chair. The knife was in the shoulder fae couldn’t see without turning faers head. He purposefully leaned a bit into faers line of sight.

“This is gonna hurt,” Johnny grumbled. There was (somehow) a comforting edge to how he said it. Then fae could feel it—static along the guided motion.

The knife was yanked out as Johnny forced faer to dislocate faers thumb. At least that meant the pain was under the current of it, and the scream was explained away. Tears pricked at faers eyes—uncomfortably creating small shocks from the broken socket.

They laughed some. They turned away, “god, if this ain’t something. I heard you were such hot shit, but… Here you are.”

They were laughing some more, Johnny pushing against faers back with both hands. “Alright, kiddo. C’mon. Up and at ‘em.”

Sanya stumbled out of the chair, causing more ruckus than fae would’ve hoped. That was fine. They turned to look back just a second too late, a punch connecting with their jaw. Johnny didn’t mean to hop up to a little, his own fist in the air. “There ya go! C’mon, tiger, we’re getting out of here!”

Before they could recover, Sanya yanked the knife from them. Straddling their chest—resting on their diaphragm, fae raised the knife. “Motherfucker.”

Things got gruesome quick. The first two stabs, Johnny felt were deserved. After a while though, the sucker’s face was a mess of gold and meat. He came to lean over faer after a while, examining the unrecognizable mess fae was still driving the blade into.

“Hey, tiger.”

Stab.

“Kiddo…”

Stab. Stab.

“He’s fucking dead, alright!”

Sanya snapped around. Hair fell over faers only working eye, and Sanya had to quickly tuck it back again. Johnny sighed. “Chill. He’s dead. Now, let’s get out of here.”

Slowly, fae stood up off him. All of faers limbs felt like there was a few seconds lag between the desire and the action being performed. ��Okay.”

“You know, we used to be inseparable. I miss the way we were.” with 🚬

“Don’t touch them!” with Johnny Silverhand

I'm gonna post the second one in a reblog to make the post a little less cluttered to me? IDK, here's part 1 with 🚬!

[meme]

Bone dropped the gun, not caring that the safety was off. It clattered there by the bed, all sounds of metal and other such nonsense. The job was long. The jobs had become faers life at this point. If fae wasn’t icing people, fae was sleeping. The bandanna was thrown over the radio on the nightstand, jacket shucked onto the floor afterward. In only a mesh shirt and cargo pants, Bone fell backward into bed.

The radio came crackling to life, slow like the ooze of fresh blood from faers leg wound. “Sport, you back yet? I heard some commotion!”

Bone just hummed in the affirmative, moving faers leg. From faers calf came bright, glowing pink. It would stain the sheets—it left a bioluminescent streak with a faint glow. The static raged on, calming only when Terry spoke again. “How’d the job go?”

“Fine,” Bone replied. “Sleep now.”

“Oh! Already?”

“Long job,” Bone mumbled.

Terry hesitated. “Not even gonna shower or anything first? You probably smell like nothing but shit, piss, and gun powder.”

Bone quirked a brow, raising faers hand to faers face to smell… “Don’t smell.”

“You’ve been rolling in it for weeks,” Terry retorted with a chuckle, loose and nervous. “You’re probably nose blind to it!”

“Shower later. Job in morning.”

Terry tried a few times to summon the right words, crackling vocal fry parting the static a few times before he actually had a sentence together. “I thought we were handing that off to someone else. It did just feel like grunt work—way below what I’d normally assign you.”

“Need the work.”

“Like shit you do!”

Bone’s head snapped to the radio. “Hostile.”

Terry sighed. “I’m sorry, Sport. I just…” He took a deep breath. “You know, we used to be inseparable. I miss the way we were.”

There was silence, discounting the static. Bone laid there, eyes falling half lidded as fae tried to think of what to say. Nothing came to mind—nothing good or helpful, at least. A full minute passed, the static starting to die away. Finally, Bone spoke up.

“Switch.”

It sparked to full volume proceeding him speaking up—as though he’d been hoping Bone would say literally anything before he could go. “What?”

“Job. Switch.”

“Oh?” The sound of rustling papers could be heard. “Right, yeah! I mean, not like it’s any skin off my nose to keep you around more. Anyone you wanna assign?”

“Klint,” Bone replied. “Good shot.”

“He is, ain’t he?” Terry laughed some. There was the click of a pen—the sharp drag of writing. More shuffling after. “I’ll have Oculus deliver the papers to the right people, photos of the taget to Klint…”

“Shower in morning,” Bone said with some great authority.

“Ah, right. I did bring that up.”

“Borrow yours?”

Terry blinked reflexively, but that was lost on Bone. “Sport, I need it in the…” Then you could hear the smile in his voice: “I get ya. I see. Yeah, you can borrow mine.”

[whatiswrongwithpeople]

Bloodied hands and silent glances Tangerine x reader

A/N: This is a small drabble based on one of the HCs I wrote. Feel free to check them out ! https://whatiswrongwithpeople.tumblr.com/post/692211445541273600/part-2-of-my-random-hcs-for-being-besties-with

Note: No use of Y/N , reader’s codename is Tabasco !

Hope you enjoy!!🍊🧡

The small restroom on the train didn’t provide much space, but still Tangerine and Tabasco stood beside each other at the sink, silently attempting to wash off the blood which covered their hands. The silence shared between the pair was by no means uncomfortable, it was peaceful and serene. The much-needed calm after a storm, which was somehow speaking more words than each of them ever could. The dimmed lights in the small space only fed into the exhaustion Tabasco was feeling after running from wagon to wagon, fighting various enemies and occasionally having to pull Tangerine off of said enemies. In fact, Tabasco was no longer sure when she and the man standing less than an arm's length away from her had entered into such an intimate relationship. Of course, she could still clearly remember the first time she met Tangerine and his brother. It had only been a few years ago, and without knowing about the brothers' business, she had been on their mission herself, independently completing the mission right in front of their eyes. She wasn't sure if it was because of fatigue and the aftermath of the current mission, but she couldn't for the life of her remember when she had built up such trust with the contract killer. Having rinsed all the blood off his hands, Tangerine glanced over at his partner, noticing how she was so lost in thought that she had stopped moving her hands, the water gushing over her tainted skin. He couldn’t help the soft look, which formed on his features upon noticing how Tabasco’s eyes were almost closed due to exhaustion. Without paying it much thought, he reached over, gently taking her hands into his. Keeping his focus entirely on her hands, he started to gently scrub off the blood, trying his very best to ignore how perfect her hands seemed to fit into his own and how soft her skin felt against his.Tangerine was aware that he had developed a soft-spot for the woman whose hands he was holding. Despite the fact that a few years earlier she had ruined an important and well-paid mission for him and his brother. If you’d ask Lemon, he would say that Tangerine had already put his heart in Tabasco's capable hands right then and there. But that just couldn't be true, Tangerine was sure that he had used absolutely every swear word in the languages familiar to him that night to express how impossible, annoying, unbearable, breathtaking and unbearably hot- Quickly letting that train of thought crash, Tangerine dared to glance into the mirror, letting out a huff when his blues met her form, already watching him. She broke eye contact with the man first, a slight smile on her lips, and slowly pulled her hands out of his touch to turn off the tap. Tabasco was aware that Tangerine would never ask her to do this, but her heart begged her to return his act of service. Taking his larger hand in one of hers, she grabbed a towel and gently dried it off, before doing the same to the other. And before the taller man could withdraw his hands from her grasp, she unfastened the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt, gently pulling them down and adjusting his arms so she could attach the cufflinks. Finishing her work under his unwavering gaze and letting her hands run over his chest in order to adjust his vest, she took a step back, already missing the warmth of his body. A quiet but content “There you go.” leaving her lips. For the last time, their eyes locked, saying a thousand things about the emotions they were feeling, but they simply hadn't learned the language necessary to reveal themselves to each other yet. Breaking out of the moment, Tangerine opened the door. “Let’s go, darling, we have a Diesel to kill!”.

[agonyaster]

brain said ‘what if they just talked’ and i ran with it

kind of a brain dump but lots of fun anyway! tried to fit as many refs to art ive seen, especially @pigdemonart’s submas and nimbasa trio stuff <3 bonus points if you can spot all of the refs and double bonus points if you go look at their art rn

blankshippers dni, please. you will be blocked.

…

Emmet stifled a yawn and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, nearly stumbling over Galvantula as she skittered around his legs excitedly. He crosses into the living room and Archeops tumbles off of the couch at the sight of him, his claws scraping against the floor as he trailed after Emmet as well. Emmet is grateful they live on the first floor; surely no downstairs neighbors would tolerate routine disturbances this early in the morning. 

While he contemplates how to stop Archeops from destroying their floors every morning, Emmet enters the kitchen where to his surprise, Ingo was stood at the counter. Chandelure floated idly nearby, chittering and hissing at her trainer, who was nodding along like he could understand her. 

“Hello, brother. It is early.” Emmet nods to the window for emphasis, where the sun was just starting to peek above the horizon.

“It is indeed,” Ingo agrees. “Did you sleep well?”

Emmet hums in affirmation, opening a cabinet as he sticks his nose high in the air.

“Liligant tea?” he guesses, grabbing a battery and tossing it to Galvantula, which she catches in her mouth before scuttling away.

Ingo nods and Emmet puts the brakes on full-stop to sit and watch. Ingo grabs the tag dangling over the side of the cup in front of him and bobs the teabag up and down before whisking it away. His other hand reaches for a jar on the counter and spoons honey into it.

“You take your tea with honey?” Emmet asks, breaking his self-imposed silence as he stares at the jar. “That is new.”

Ingo twists the lid back on and nods. “Yes. It… it was how Lady Calaba always prepared tea. I find myself quite attached to the flavor now.”

“It is good to see you’ve acquired some taste while you were away.”

His brother chuckles and they fall into comfortable silence as Emmet prepares coffee for himself. 

In the domestic air of their kitchen, Emmet is grateful for how quickly they got back on track. Balance is a verrry difficult thing to find on its own and Emmet cannot imagine what it would be like to try and discover a new balance with Ingo. They never had to think about it before— when they existed as a two-car train, moving in tandem no matter what came their way. 

He was worried about that in the early days of Ingo’s return. Three years was too long to be apart from someone you’d spent your whole life standing beside. He knows things have changed and he knows it is ignorant to believe otherwise, but despite that, they were in sync once more. Not perfectly, no, but moving forward nonetheless. Together all the same.

Emmet finishes adding the sugar to his coffee and clears his throat. “Calaba… she is the leader of the Pearl Clan, correct?”

“Close, but no.” Ingo shakes his head. “Lady Irida was the clan leader, while Lady Calaba was a warden; the same as I.” 

“Ah. I see.” Emmet pauses. They hadn’t talked about this yet. For all of the time they had together since Ingo’s return, it had been spent settling back into normal. Getting their lives back on track. The only past they ever talked of was the one held within the photo albums Elesa brought over, not the one within a Sinnohan history textbook.

Emmet knew a few names and the general story of Ingo’s arrival and departure, but the in between was where things started to blur.

Hisui had changed his brother in many ways, far beyond the honey in his tea. It was the reason he woke before the sun had risen every morning; the reason he looked so lost when he stared up at the stars, hidden as they were by the light of Nimbasa City. Its horrors left pronounced dark circles under his eyes which didn't leave for weeks since his return, and had etched lines into Ingo’s face that shouldn’t have come for another five years, at least.

Hisui was the reason for the notebook Ingo kept tucked within the inside breast pocket of his coat, filled with photos, neat drawings and lines of writing— of the things he’s scared to forget again. The letters to and from the professors assistant who disappeared for months and came back alongside Ingo, the wooden pokéballs Emmet found scattered around the apartment, the trips out to Pinwheel Forest or Twist Mountain, the scars that were peppered across his hands and up and down his arms— all were because of Hisui. Even the haunting flute music Emmet heard echoing off of the walls when he woke in the middle of the night. It was just another way Hisui left its mark. 

Perhaps it was finally time to learn more. To figure out the how and the why. 

“What was it like, your life in Hisui?”

Ingo pauses at the words, frown deepening ever so slightly as the cup of tea stops halfway to his mouth. 

“That is a complicated question.”

“We do not have any scheduled stops today."

Ingo pauses. He is tempted to deflect, Emmet knows. Emmet will not let him. He stares, and Ingo relents. 

“Then I suggest we get comfortable.”

“All aboard!” Emmet cheers, and they head into the living room. 

Archeops rises into the air sloppily and perches on the back of the couch as his trainers sit down, tail thumping against the wall happily as Ingo scratches under his chin. Emmet sets his mug down atop a sleeping Crustle, and the Joltik resting on her carapace scatter like a flashbang had erupted. Some dart under the couch, others flee to the kitchen in search of Galvantula, or head towards the TV stand where they are bound to chew on the wires.

Emmet looks at his brother, and again is reminded of the impact Hisui left. The faint lines around Ingo’s eyes deepen in the low light; his shoulders tense and hunched, unable to shake the habit even after his arrival in Unova. 

“What was Irida like? You have mentioned her often.”

Ingo snaps to attention and processes his brother's words before pressing his lips together into a thin line. “Lady Irida was strong,” are the words he decides on. “Too strong someone her age needed to be. Without that strength, I doubt I would still be here to tell you about her.”

“Oh.”

“She battled her own father in an attempt to keep me within the clan, despite being an outsider with no memories. I’m still not quite sure why she trusted me so much, but I am forever in her debt for it.”

“She sounds like a lovely lady.”

“She is. Was.” Ingo slumps even further in on himself. “They all were.”

Emmet picks up Ingo’s tea and takes a sip before handing it off and washing the taste from his mouth with a swig of coffee. “You said you were a warden. What is a warden?” 

“A warden is someone who tends to a noble of the clan. They try to keep the peace within the noble’s habitat, tend to their children, evolve the next noble when the time comes— things of that sort.” Ingo stares down into his tea. “Before you ask, nobles are the descendants of the pokémon used by the legendary hero of the Celestica people, and which have been blessed by Arceus.”

“I see. Is the Sneasel…?” Emmet’s voice trails off as he looks around for the pokémon, yet another remnant of Ingo’s life lived in the past.

“Yes. She is the child of the noble I tended to.” Seeing his brother’s failure at attempting to find the Sneasel, Ingo starts to whistle. 

The tune is short and low, long high notes starting it and a sharp trilling repeating at the end. It makes the hair on the back of Emmet’s neck stand up. 

There’s a scuffling sound in the distance before a purple streak of a pokémon shoots out of Ingo’s room. Her claws scrape against the hardwood floors as she bolts towards the couch and leaps up onto Ingo’s lap. 

“Wouldn’t it be easier to simply call her?” Emmet asks, reaching out a hand; the Sneasel sniffing at it and nipping the tips of his fingers.

“I suppose it would be, but I do not want the young one to forget what the song means to her.” 

“What is it supposed to mean to her?” 

“Home.”

Emmet pauses before asking his next question. “What does it mean to you?” 

Ingo scratches under Sneasel’s chin and tilts his head to the side, lost in thought.

“Home," he says again, firm in his words.

“I see.”

“Does that bother you?”

“I don’t see why it should.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

He cannot look his brother in the eye, so Emmet stares at the teacup held within his hands instead. It is painted to resemble a Chandelure, though the orange color and leafy handle gave away its Kalosian origins. It was one Elesa had bought for him years ago at a festival in Kalos. He wonders if Ingo remembers that.

“Were you happier there?” he asks, staring into the painted eyes of the teacup. They stare back, soulless. 

Ingo is silent for a while. Emmet fears he has said something wrong, which is strange. He has never had to worry over things like that when it comes to Ingo. 

“I don’t think I ever could have been satisfied," he finally says, which only leaves Emmet more confused than before. 

“What do you mean?”

Ingo draws a breath that is long and low, like the ones he takes before he bellows out congratulations to a challenger for emerging victorious. 

“At the start of my time in Hisui, despite my lost memories, I could tell something was… off. Seeing a Zorua in the icelands or an Electrode tumble out of a tree— they felt wrong in a way I didn’t have the words to describe. I wanted to know more but simply couldn’t. It didn’t seem within my ability to learn more about my life before the rift on my own, and now I know it wasn’t. My truth only returned when Lady Dawn arrived.”

Ingo scratches under Sneasel’s chin, who purrs in delight.

“My first memory to return was of a person. A man in white who shared my face, and who loved winning more than anything else.” 

He smiles to himself, the Ingo version of a smile that doesn’t change much about his expression at all. Not many people would be able to tell, but Emmet could. He sees the happiness in his eyes.

“That was what kept me going for a long time, this mystery man. I needed to know what he meant to me.” Ingo’s voice grows softer. “Even when some of my other memories started to trickle in, it was always you who kept me going.”

“You did not know who I was, yet you left your home in Hisui to find me.”

“It’s as I said before: I could never be satisfied. Perhaps if every last one of my memories had been stolen, I would’ve been. But they were not, and not knowing was so much worse than anything that could have awaited me beyond the space-time rift.”

“I see.”

Emmet cannot stop himself from asking the next question, even if he wanted to. He barely knows he is thinking it at all before his voice rings out. 

“Will you ever go back?”

He sounds scared, even to his own ears.

Ingo looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “To stay for good?”

“Yes.”

“No.” There is no hesitation.

“Why not?”

“Hisui doesn’t have you.”

They are quiet for a while. Ingo drinks the last of his tea. Emmet watches as Durant stomps after a pair of Joltik who are chirping at her excitedly. He can hear Chandelure and Galvantula talking to one another over in the kitchen.

When Ingo speaks next, his voice is quiet. He sounds small. 

“Is it wrong of me to miss it, sometimes?" He sounds small. Emmet doesn't like it.

There is no hesitation when Emmet shakes his head.

“How are you sure?”

“What I do. What I say. Always the same.”

Ingo sighs heavily, the kind of sigh Emmet hears a lot more now than before. He looks so tired. Emmet wishes there was more he could do. 

"I can tell that I belong here in Unova, but sometimes it feels like a piece of myself was left behind in Hisui.”

“Of course you do. That is what happens when you love someone.”

Sneasel leaps out of Ingo's lap and starts to chase after Durant as well, the Joltik squeaking in delight. Durant gnashes her mandibles in annoyance. 

Ingo watches her leave, his eyes glowing eerily in the light of the early morning. 

“They gave me so much. A home, a purpose, a family. Even the freedom to leave, when I wished it so.” Ingo screws his eyes shut. “They gave me everything and now they are all gone.”

His voice breaks on the last word, and Emmet has never felt so helpless. He is good at battling. He is not good at emotions. But this is Ingo, and he’s never been the best with emotions either. 

This is Ingo, so he has to try. 

Emmet reaches out and takes his brother’s hand in his. It is shaking. 

His fingers curl around to hold onto Emmet’s hand more securely. Ingo’s grip is strong and it reminds Emmet of when they were children, screaming at the top of their lungs in a mixture of fear and delight as they fled from the army of Venipede scurrying after them. Ingo’s hands were different back then, so small and delicate. Now his left pinky sticks out at an odd angle and his palms are rough with calluses. 

It is still Ingo, though, so Emmet doesn’t mind.

He brushes a thumb over a thin white scar that has sliced its way across Ingo’s knuckles. He wonders how it got there.

“Everyone says things get better,” he murmurs, thinking back to the woman with kind eyes who Elesa forced him to visit when things were especially bad. “They do not tell you how hard it is in the beginning.”

Ingo’s grip loosens the slightest bit. 

“I was not myself when you were gone.” A beat passes, and Emmet knits his eyebrows together before correcting himself. “I didn’t know how to be myself without you.” 

How could he? He never had to be without Ingo, even in the earliest time in his life. Ingo was older, after all, even if only by seven minutes. Living in a world without Ingo was something he never had to think about, before. He never wants to live in one again. 

Emmet swallows. “The Ingo that came back is a different one that left, and that is okay. You shouldn’t have to leave him behind because you are back in Unova. That Ingo is still Ingo. I am sorry if I ever made you feel like he wasn’t.”

“It is alright.”

“No, it isn’t.”

They fall silent again. Ingo’s voice is quiet when he speaks.

“Perhaps… I should ask Lady Cynthia to look through some old records of Sinnohan history. It would be nice to know where they all ended up.”

A smirk overtakes Emmet’s face. “Perhaps we can find more photos of you.”

He can’t help but laugh when Ingo reaches to pull his cap down to hide his eyes in embarrassment, only to realize it isn’t there.

When Excadrill waddles into the room and Archeops launches himself off of the couch to wrestle with her, the gears in his head start to turn. 

“You know… We could go to visit. Hypothetically speaking.”

“I don’t think Almighty Dialga would allow such a thing.” Ingo watches as Elektross twirls around in the air merrily. “Besides,

the Diamond Clan would be very upset with us for using their god to go on vacation.”

“Dialga isn't the only pokémon with control over time.” Emmet reminds, grin turning sly. “Perhaps we should put a stop to Ilex Forest on the schedule.”

“I do not think the depot agents would appreciate our departure.”

“They will get over it.”

Ingo snorts at that. Elesa would’ve compared him to a Tepig, but Emmet disagrees. It is too loud not to be a Pignite. Perhaps even a timid Emboar, if you were generous.

His face turns somber once more as he lets out a long breath. 

“I think…” He pauses, still deciding in his words. Emmet’s leg starts to bounce in anticipation, but he forces himself to stop. “I think you would’ve liked them.”

Emmet does not need to ask who. He knows. 

“I think I would have too.”

[joyfulfxckery]

Request/prompt for chibs being his sweet self?

Sorry, it took so long but I hope you enjoy your date!

*Any Scottish Gaelic I use is provided by Google*

Part One

Mo ghràdh, (My love)

Be ready at 7 pm, I'll meet you in front of the house.

Love, Filip

That's it. That was the whole note which was attached to this beautiful royal blue dress/suit that was delivered to the house at noon by a Samcro prospect who was also holding a single black rose.

You continued on the rest of your day like usual while wondering what this was for. "It's not any special occasion... Am I missing something?"

"Oh my Gods, did I forget something?" With an exasperated sigh after trying to wrack your brain for clues as to what's goin' on, you check the clock that reads 5 pm and decide to go get ready. After having a thorough shower, making sure you're shaved and scrubbed, you put on your housecoat to do your hair and make-up, if you want it. Deciding to make loose curls with your hair parted to the side and put some light makeup on, a more or less natural look, not knowing exactly where he's taking you makes it seem silly to put on an elegant look and I think only Gemma sees the need to go bold in a small town like Charming. When you're happy with how you look you put on the dress/suit while silently praying that it fits right, you go to look in the mirror and see that it fits perfectly.

"I have a feeling Gemma or Venus helped pick it." You say aloud as you spin slowly in the mirror, doing a once over and if you have the dress you watch the skirt spin. With the dress, you pick out your favourite silver strappy heels and with the suit, your black dress shoes silver with the last touch on both outfits being the necklace Filip gave you when he first said he loves you, a half a heart made of silver on a small silver chain.

(Sorry if you don't like the dress, it was the closest I could find that matches😅)

The alarm on your phone goes off to say that it's time so after looking yourself over in the mirror you smile and grab your phone off the end of the bed before heading downstairs while sliding your phone, wallet and lipstick into the black clutch you decided to use earlier. After making sure you have everything you might need, you grab your keys and open the front door, turning to lock it before looking back where your eyes, out of habit, immediately go to the driveway. The sight makes you choke on nothing. How does he look so effortlessly good? It's unfair. He's just sitting on his bike. In a suit. A fucking suit. With, of course, his cut. He always wears that unless he can't, it's like a second skin. Does he know what he's doing? Does he do it on purpose to fuck with me(Us)?

"Are you just gonna stand there sweetheart?" His thick accent cuts through your thoughts causing you to snap out of your thoughts and look to see that he's smirking. Shaking your head slightly you walk to stand beside him, as you get closer you take in little notes; your outfit colour that matches his tie and he has his necklace on, his half of the heart that's black and on black thread. He always thinks of little details that seem to make your heart soar. His eyes are looking over you as his smile gets wider until he stops at your half of the matching neckless you added on a whim then he smiles with a gentle shake of his head.

"Good evenin' luv." He wraps his arm around your waist when you stand beside him, reaching up to touch your neckless with a smile, while you wrap a loose arm around his shoulders. "You look stunnin', I should pick clothes for you more often."

"You picked this?" I guess the shock showed because he laughed.

"Why are ya so shocked luv?"

"I thought Gemma or Venus helped you pick it." At that, he feigned being hurt while holding a hand to his chest.

"You've wounded me mah dear, you think I don't know what would fit my baby?"

You smile and laugh, leaning down to kiss his mouth in apology, "I'm sorry Chibby." He seems to think about it for a second before shaking his head in response.

"One kiss just won't take away the pain away sweetheart." He says with a smirk forming before gently pulling on your small chain necklace to put your lips against his into another more passionate kiss. It lasts until you both need air, both of you breathing heavily towards the other as he laughs at the little dazed state you have going on. Yes, he knows and he does it on purpose. You huff playfully at him and which causes him to laugh again while reaching toward the luggage bag on the side that holds your helmet and giving it to you, placing it on your head before you hold the hand that was waiting for you use to help balance yourself while getting behind him. While he still has your hand he brings it to his lips to leave a kiss before placing it down on his stomach so you could wrap your arms around him. After putting on his helmet he starts his motorcycle, backs out of the driveway and heads towards wherever you're supposed to go.

He pulls into one of the more expensive restaurants in the town to your surprise after. He backs into a spot and shuts the engine off and waits for you to get off, keeping still so you can use his shoulders as leverage. You stand beside and take off your helmet, shaking out your curls and putting the helmet back in its spot before waiting for him to stand. Which he does and then takes your hand in his before starting to walk towards the doors, when you two go in there's a sign that says to wait to be seated, he pulls you in front of him to wrap his arms around you as you two come to a stop and wait, you smile and place your hands on his arms. If you have long hair he gently pulls it off of your neck, he nuzzles his face in your neck and places small kisses in various spots while gently swaying the both of you.

When the waitress comes up and asks if it's just the two of you, Chibs nods without lifting his head up, with the hint of a blush as she escorts you to your table. Chibs lets go of you so he can get a couple of steps ahead and pull out your chair for you, you smile while nodding in thanks and sit down. After he pushes you in he gets in his own chair as the waitress sets your menus on the table before excusing herself.

"Order anything you want, Mo ghràdh." (My love)

"Anything, Chibby?" He smiles and nods in reply with,

"Yes, luv, this is a treat for you."

"I knew I didn't miss anything." You let out a soft laugh, "Why you treating me Chibby?" He reaches his hand to the middle of the table so he can wrap it around yours. His smile never fading while he looks at you and explains in his Scottish accent.

"Tha club has been so hectic with the Cartel an' the extra time I've been away an' you haven't complained, you've been my own personal Saint, sweetheart."

With a blush, a small smile graces your features as you squeeze his hand. You have nothing to say as you stare at the man you love across the table from you. There was a sparkle in your eye as you stared at him and it made Chibs falter as he realized just how much he missed you and how much he needs this time with you. Almost as much as you needed this time with him. You may not have complained, because you knew your love is stretched thinner than one would think possible. But you definitely missed him before all this cartel shit going on. You never agreed to the clubs' decision, but only being an old lady didn't give you much say in club business.

"A-mhàin dhut, Mo Ghràdh. (Only for you, my love.)" Hearing your soft response he smiles, always happy to hear you speak his home language.

~ Ghoulie 💜

[min-jpg]

pretty boy

Characters: Sub!Childe, Sub!Xiao x Dom GN!reader (separately)

Genre: smut/NSFW, costume play, cussing, begging, spanking, thigh riding, choking, mirror play, degradation (TW: mean asf to Childe and blood included)

Note: writing smut is so different from reading HAHSHFKFE;; since I'm still inexperienced, I decided to experiment with 2 of my favorite boys first. Enjoy!

Now playing: TENDER - Erode

---

Childe dressed in a bunny girl suit.

The upper half of his body bent over, his chest heaving on the bed. Childe's arms were bound behind him, shackled together with a handcuff.

Sitting beside him, you sneered at the sight. "Sticking your ass up like a whore. Waiting for someone to fuck you senseless?" Without warning, you swung your arm in wide motion and connected with his ass to spank him. Childe's body jolted from the impact, erupting a heavy moan as well. His bottom half shivering, as if he was wagging his cute little bunny tail that was attached to the costume.

"You liked that? Looking like a bitch in a heat." Smacking him numerous times earned more lewd noises from him.

Childe's breathing labored as he glanced at you. He beseeched with his gaze, waiting in anticipation. He rubbed his thighs together in a hasty manner to augment friction between his pantyhose and erected manhood. "M-more."

You smirked at the bewitched state he got himself into just by your spanks. Feigning a dull expression, "More? Why don't you do something about it yourself?"

Childe gradually stood up, his desperation burgeoning every second. With an ungainly movement, he mounted himself on your thigh. As his length came in contact with your lap, Childe let out another cry.

"I didn't even touch you, slut." You chuckled as you observed him straddling on your thigh. Though, his advance was far from being graceful since he had his hands restrained. You still considered it adorable of him to take the initiative.

Like a rabbit in their heat cycle, Childe rubbed his dick against your skin. His hips bounced back and forth, each stroke bestowing surges of pleasure throughout his body. Mouth agape, Childe does not shy away when it comes to expressing his moans.

You felt chills traversing down your spine as you watch him fuck your lap, his thighs clamping onto yours as if clinging onto dear life. There was something so exhilarating about seeing Childe so fixated on one of your mere body parts. He was eagerly using your thigh as an object to appease his sexual urges.

As his limbs grew restless, Childe lost his balance with nothing to grab. To secure him in place, you rested your hands on the sides of his waist.

You pressed down, causing his cock to burrow further into your skin. Startled by the development in pleasure, his head flew back as he groaned, back arching. Childe maintained his pace as he vigorously grinds against your lap. You assaulted his bared neck with a relentless bite, welcoming every vibration palpitating through his throat coming from his lascivious moans.

Blood trickled down from where you nibbled him, tasting iron in your mouth. Your chest reverberated a dark chuckle when you pulled away to relish the mark you left on the body that tacitly belonged to you.

Tracing the mark with your thumb, Childe eventually lowered his head. Those lustful eyes met yours. You shot back a glare, "Did I ask you to look at me?" Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you forcefully tugged his head back, drawing an alarming yelp from him. "Keep that little head of yours concentrated on grinding, hmm?"

"Y-yes... I'm sorry. Please forgive me." Childe gasped out. You ignored his pleas and resumed to persistently gnawing his neck at various spots.

As you covered his pale neck with bruises, Childe's pitch grew higher. The urgency in his vehement thrusts motioned he was approaching orgasm, "Gonna come!"

Your fingers laced around his neck, "Who said you could?" Tightening your grip, Childe began to choke as his air passage was slowly shrinking.

As his eyes rolled back, Childe continuously beg in between his weeps, "Please let me come! I want to come, so badly! Please, I've been a good boy."

"You're such a dirty whore for me." You grasped a steady grip on his ass and fondled with it, "Hurry up, before I change my mind."

Childe humped harshly against your skin, "Thank you, thank you so much." Even you could feel the severe abrasion forming on your thigh from his efforts.

Achieving orgasm, a puddle formed in between his legs which finally caused him to slow down. His essence oozed under the costume. Childe collapsed forward, forehead resting on your shoulder as he panted, sweat dripping down. He carried on with perpetual murmuring words of gratitude, as if in a trance.

"You dirty, pretty thing."

Xiao dressed in a maid outfit.

His attractive slim neck was embellished with a jade green ribbon that coordinated with the highlight on his hair. Standing in front of a full-length mirror, Xiao shyly concealed his gaze by peering down. He kept his hands occupied by fiddling with the frills from the dress.

You stood beside Xiao as you admired how fitting he looked in that costume, "Lift the dress up." Your voice firm. It was an order, not a request.

Xiao quietly complied with your words, picking up the one side of the hem.

"Do it properly." Your tone grew stern, making Xiao whimper silently to himself and pulled up the dress completely to expose what lies under.

You hummed pleasantly, "So you even wore lace underwear? What a slut." Shuddering him to the core with your mild degradation, it manifested a tent beneath the white underwear.

A frigid breeze made its way through the aperture in his thighs that were exposed, causing Xiao to squeeze them shut. The weights on his legs that wore knee-high stockings shifted from one to another. You leisurely walked behind him, resting your chest on his back.

Your arms snaked around him, enough to make Xiao aroused as he felt sparks from your sensual touch. Burying your head in his shoulder, you immersed yourself in his scent. Your breath tickled his skin, inflicting lust in Xiao even further.

"You're so pretty, such a good boy for me." Muttering praises to make up for your mean bearings earlier, your hands explored his heated body in the process. Viewing the mirror, a damp spot surfaced on his underwear. It was a living exhibit of how turned on he was. Reaching the bottom where his member lies, you slipped your hand into the underwear, earning a yelp from Xiao.

Your fingers danced on his already wet tip, an attempt to provoke him further. Your touch was intentionally brief, never staying too long. His tip never failed to twitch cutely to seize your attention. Xiao desperately thrusts his hips forward, seeking to engage with your hand.

"Impatient? Then beg for it." You whispered into his ear, watching him succumb to your handlings. Raising his head by tilting his chin with your other hand, Xiao's shriveled pupils met your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. His flushed face was accompanied by eyes brimming with tears threatening to spill out.

"P-please... please make me feel good. Please, please, please!" Chant of pleas cascaded from Xiao's lips, his voice quivering. It was almost impossible to resist consuming him whole right on the spot.

"So cute..." You kissed his hair. Seeing how hard he tried, you ought to show some leniency. "Keep holding the dress up for me." Pulling down his underwear, you instantly switched the gear. You worked on stroking his length in a calculated rhythm. Xiao gasped as his knees buckled and his entire body convulsed. You felt his cock pulsating around your palm, signifying how much he craved and depended on your touch alone to send him to his climax.

Xiao mewled and leaned forward. His trembling legs could no longer support him. You took note of this and hoisted him up with a tight embrace around his waist, meanwhile hastening your pace around his stimulated cock. You made sure to also rub the head with your thumb once in awhile.

Succeeding sweet moans coming from Xiao saturated the room as he fits in your name in between, "I'm going, to.. c-come." He formed incoherent sentences in the nigh of his sexual gratification. Xiao instinctively grabbed your arm and let go of the hem. Distressed to hold onto something as pleasure throbbed throughout his body, his nails dug into your skin.

"Going to come for me like a good boy?" You kissed the nape of his neck. He nodded fervently, hips once again jerking forward as he shot strings of cum, permitting one final deep moan in the process. The white substance splattered against the mirror. His moan transitioned to series of pants as he drooled, body slumping, and eventually went numb.

"Look at how beautiful you are."

[etherealeeknow]

the fwb rules

• rated m for mature

• pairing: fwb!hyunjin x fem!reader

• wc: 4.559

• tw: explicit language, light characterization of an insecure reader, unprotected piv sex (stay safe, lovelies!), fingering & oral (f), nipple play, cream pie— i think that’s all, please do tell me if you find more c:

• note: last time i said long fic isn’t my forte and this time i’ll still say the same hahahahaha. but still, i hope i don’t disappoint 🥺 please kindly note that english isn’t my first language. therefore, i apologize for any mistakes. feedbacks are always appreciated because i’d love to grow! thank you for waiting and enjoy 💞 pretty banner made by my bestie!! ilysm 😽😽😽

• tag list: @charlieshelves @es-kay-zee @formidxble @oh-my-sparkle @bobateastay @http-hyxnjxn @lyralurexrattle @hyunsluvv @healinghyunjin @sailorhyunjinz

—

what happened to the rules?

it didn’t start off like this. you can’t remember when exactly you started wondering about the five word question. all you know is that you were one bite away from gobbling a spoonful of jisung’s ice cream when it struck you: since when did you and hyunjin stop going by the rules? he’s been occasionally texting you out of the blue lately just to know what you’re up to, and today he even asked you to stay the night at his, and as much as you want to believe they’re all normal, again, it didn’t start off like this. from the beginning, you and hyunjin have come up with three rules so your relationship can work: one, be very casual. two, no strings attached. three, no fucks given outside of the, well, literal fucking. but look at you now, lying naked and out of breath under his blanket while facing his ceiling, driving yourself insane over the haunted question. you have to get it off your chest somehow, but how? 

“hey, why so serious?” asks the culprit behind your overthinking, causing you to jump slightly over his sudden appearance and your hands instinctively pull up the blanket to cover your naked chest, which as a result, makes him chuckle. cute. “here. it’s my cousin’s,” adds the topless man as he sits on the edge of the bed and hands you a white shirt that even under the dim light, you can already tell won’t fit you.

“your cousin? the model? hyunjin, she’s tiny,” you utter, hands still gripping onto the blanket. “i’m—“

“you,” he cuts you off, placing a hand on top of yours while carefully glancing at you to make sure you there aren’t any signs of discomfort. “are fine, y/n. now hurry up. i’m sleepy,” he adds before letting go, leaving behind a lingering warmth on your knuckles.

nodding, you turn your back on him to change, and the room falls silent, causing you to hear how fast your heart is thumping even more than it should have. is it because you had too much coffee this morning? or it can probably be because the shirt is too tight that it’s cutting off your air circulation, right? right, of course. you tell yourself because as much as you dislike both reasons, they are still far better than having hyunjin as the cause.

once you’re done, hyunjin already has his back lying against the bedhead, his head tilting slightly to the side, avoiding the light coming from the night lamp on the bedside table, while his eyes bore deeply into yours. unbothered that he’s been caught staring, he averts his gaze downwards till they reach your chest and spot how your nipples are sticking out through the thin fabric.

“see? it fits you just fine,” he says, turning his vision back to your face as he opens his arms and motions them at you, only to have you remain in the same position with your increasing heartbeat.

“aren’t you gonna, uh, wear something?”

instead of a proper answer, all you get is his laugh—hyunjin’s contagious laugh that usually always succeeds in making you laugh too. but today hits differently. has his laugh always sounded this lighthearted before? no matter what the answer is, one thing for sure is that despite how sweet hwang hyunjin and his laugh are, they have never made your cheeks burn like this before, and this is forbidden. it’s against the rules.

“an hour ago we were naked while sucking each other’s face, y/n,” he finally answers after a while. “besides, i always sleep like this. now, come on,” he adds, repeating the same gesture, except this time his hands are open wider, eager to have you near him again because the space around him is starting to make him feel lonely.

complying with him, you fall into his embrace and hyunjin immediately lets his hands travel to the exact places of where they want to be—one around your head and the other around your waist. despite the room turning less cold with his warmth directly passing onto you, your heart and cheeks conditions remain the same especially since you can hear how hyunjin’s heartbeats are beating just as fast as yours when he lets you lay your head on his chest.

“hyunjin,” you call out, hands fiddling with the collar of your shirt.

“y/n,” he replies, replacing the collar with his fingers instead, intertwining them with yours.

what happened to the rules?

“do... do fwb do these?” you ask, the bravery in you finally decide to show up, even just for a little.

“do this?” he asks back while squeezing your hand with all his might, as if he’s nervous.

no. not ‘this’, but ‘these’. not only the hand grabbing, but also the fact that he asked you to stay the night, that he’s cuddling you to sleep, and that you’ve been getting unusual symptoms over them until this very moment.

“yes, this,” you nod and hyunjin becomes muted, but his heartbeats are growing louder, and his grip on you has become tighter.

after what feels like forever, he whispers, voice slightly cracking, and hands getting a little colder, “yes. yes, they do.”

then the two of you become muted, but both heartbeats keep growing louder, and everything stays that way until sleep eventually takes over.

—

as a homebody, you’ve always against the idea of sleepovers. you believe home is the sweetest place and your own bed is the comfiest even when your mattress is older than a decade and your favorite plushie has had too many holes here and there. but waking up in hyunjin’s bed has broken your stigma—never in your whole life that you’d have thought someone else’s bed can provide you twice the comfort.

“looks like someone had a good sleep,” chirps jisung as he sits beside you, causing you to wipe off the smile on your face before going back to your laptop.

“wow suddenly my best friend’s a psychic?”

“hey, that’d actually make a great drama title!” he exclaims and you roll your eyes. “please do spill the tea though. what happened?” he adds.

“what happened?” you ask back, eyes still on the screen, but the corner of your lips are on the verge of breaking into the smile, knowing full well he’ll complain—which he does by lamely calling you a meanie.

laughing, you tell him nothing happened, but the way he rolls his eyes is a sign he’s not taking any of your bullshit. you are telling the truth though. besides spending the night with each other, nothing really happened, right? it was just another casual fucking session. yes, it was amazing, but that’s no news for jisung. the guy’s practically your wingman—setting you up with hyunjin was his idea because he believes you should, “live your life. have that dreamy college sex orelse you’ll regret it like my old man changbin!”

right on cue, a notification popped out on your big screen, and the sender’s name makes your heart pop too.

“aha, see!” jisung points at it. “y/n, where are you?” he reads out loud, earning yourselves all the eyes from every other student in class.

“oh my god, jisung. shut up!” right when you’re about to log out from the chat app, hyunjin sends another one.

“can i call you?” jisung reads once more and you’re only one second away from smacking his head, but your vibrating phone holds you back.

shooting jisung a glare, you make sure to close your laptop before leaving the class, answering hyunjin’s call even when you’re still half way through the door. right when you’re about to greet him hello, hyunjin beats you to it—his voice a bit raspy, but the softness in his tone still lies within, and it creates endless questions in your mind.

has he just woken up? so is this how he sounds in the morning? why is he calling?

and the list goes on because this isn’t like hyunjin at all. sure, he’s not validating the rules, but he’s breaking his character despite already alarming you to anticipate morning booty calls from him at times. he’s never actually done that though. 

“hi,” you reply, startling yourself with how small your voice came out.

“you left,” says hyunjin and you can hear him sighing from the other line, which somehow causes a slight pang in your heart, wondering if perhaps he is disappointed. “can you come back? wait, actually, let me go to you instead.” he says and you can hear the rustling sounds coming from his side.

“hyunjin, i have class. that’s why i left. i—” should you apologize? but why should you? casual, no strings attached, and no fucks given, remember? “i’m sorry.”

“oh.” hyunjin stops on his track before plopping back down onto the bed, smiling. “i’ll pick you up after class then. when will you finish?”

unconsciously, a smile creeps up your face too, but the realization hits you right after, then followed by the five word question, and you know—you know this is your guts telling you that now’s the time to ask him about it, but your heart hates confrontation. plus, wouldn’t it be rude to reply to someone else’s question with a question? “hyunjin, are you, uh, horny?”

just like yesterday, hyunjin laughs, and with the raspiness in his voice still present, he doesn’t fail to make you laugh along, but at the same time waking the butterflies in your stomach and makes you rethink your decision. mayhaps, you should’ve left him a note or told him that you’ll leave early in the morning; or even, you should’ve ditched classes today and stayed so when he wakes up, you can get him a glass of water, not leaving the boy uncared for like this. but who are you to do so? 

“isn’t it normal for a guy to have a morning wood?” he jokes before quickly adding that he’s not horny. “i just want to see you so let me go get you.”

pressing your lips together, you contemplate on whether you should let him. if you do, won’t you be turning whatever the two of you have right now into something far more complicated? but it’s only until hyunjin adds a desperate “please?” that all of your dilemma disappears, as if you’re being cast into his spell—“okay.”

—

while heading to the gate, you have the biggest urge to book a massage appointment. dodging jisung’s questions and running away from him after the first period was draining, but having to spend the day running back and forth between two buildings because thinking that volunteering as the lecturers’ teaching assistant was draining on a whole new level. other than feeling like your legs are gonna come off, your mind also feels like it’s gonna blow off—you can’t stop recalling all the things you need to start working on as soon as possible, but stepping into hyunjin’s car turns everything to 180 degrees.

you’d like to think that it’s because of the faint lavender aroma coming from his car freshener along with the heavenly cool air conditioner, but no. you know full well it’s because of the way hyunjin’s smile lit up, his eyes disappear into two small crescent moons, and his blonde hair which is becoming one with the warm orange sky that brings peace to your heart.

“hi,” he breathes out the moment you close the door, and you do the same except for looking at him, which causes hyunjin to furrow his eyebrows while speeding away.

the way home is silent, just the way you like it, but you know full well that it’s not hyunjin’s cup of tea. he doesn’t need to say it, his action is showing it all as he’s been fidgeting non stop, wiping his sweaty palm along his jeans while occasionally licking his plump lips. hyunjin’s a very vocal person. he’s talkative and loud—including in bed. you press your warm cheeks over the realization of your own thoughts, embarrassed. you can’t possibly suspect hyunjin for being horny in the morning when you yourself are being like this in the afternoon. it’s uncalled for.

noticing you from the corner of his eye, hyunjin calls out, asking you if there’s anything wrong, totally catching you off guard. what should you say? lying is not your forte, but being honest clearly isn’t the best option right now, at least, not before you shower and appear presentable in front of him—but wait, since when did that matter so much? a few months ago, you even fucked after you ran a marathon.

“y/n?” calls hyunjin for the second time.

“look, hyunjin, really, it’s okay if you’re horny. you can pull over and i can, uh, relieve you and i can just take the bus home after,” you spit out shamelessly while looking at him straight in the eyes, eager to get far away from hyunjin as fast as possible before you go out of your mind.

just like the night before, hyunjin laughs. and just like the night before, his laugh hits differently and it does nothing other than burning your already burnt cheeks for the worse.

“i swear to god, y/n, i’m not horny. i genuinely want to take you home. nothing more,” explains hyunjin, head straight at the road but eyes repeatedly stealing glances at you. “and nothing less,” he adds, voice barely audible but you caught it.

“o— oh.” is all you manage to respond before the ride quickly turns quiet and hyunjin’s hands begin fidgeting again, all the while you’re trying to decode what he has just said—what does he mean by genuinely wanting to take you home? do fwb do this too? what happened to no fucks given?—and it goes on until hyunjin hits the break in front of your old apartment building.

“we’re here,” says hyunjin, breaking the silence by unlocking the car door.

“we’re here,” you repeat after him, already opening the door and setting a foot out. “uh, thank you.”

“don’t mention it.” hyunjin shoots you his signature smile the moment you lower yourself to meet his eye level from outside the car; this time, you have no choice but to fall under his spell.

“hey, uh, you wanna come in?” you ask, biting your lower lip as a way to punish yourself for being so indecisive. one second you want to run away from him and the next second you want to be near him. come on, get a grip.

as if the punishment isn’t enough, hyunjin declines your offer, all while chuckling with his head thrown back. “for the third time, y/n. i’m not horny. go in and rest up.” 

“if you say so.” you shrug, giving him a small smile before turning around, making sure not to look back, only to fail when you hear the engine driving away.

—

you can’t quite tell—no, you can’t tell. you don’t get it. there’s an unexplainable empty space in your heart that is caused by hyunjin’s rejection. is it because you’re just not used to see him without having to fuck him? or is it because you’re hurt over the fact that he’s not in the mood to touch you? is it because of last night? is he finally sick of your flaws? things would probably be different if you had retouched your makeup or at least combed your hair before seeing him, would they? either way, you’re fully aware you shouldn’t be torn over your friend with benefits, yet your aching heart says otherwise.

and so when the doorbell rings only a few seconds after you get in and the figure you see through the peephole is no other than the man in question, you spare no time to swing the door open. hyunjin, in return, spares no time to lock his lips with yours right after he utters a brief apology. just like the way hyunjin sneaks his playful hands down your ass, you sneak your tongue in his mouth, and your action makes him smile into the kiss as he leads you back into the room and kicks the door shut with his long legs.

the way to your bedroom is actually pretty short, but with your tongues moving in sync, bodies pressing—glued, even, and eyes continuously closing in pleasure, the short way to your bedroom consists of endless stumbling, tripping, and bumping the door. once inside, you break the kiss and are about to undress yourself when hyunjin beats you to it, settling you down on the bed as he begins taking off your attire one by one ever so effortlessly. and in just a matter of seconds, his lips are back on yours again, floral scented hair falling and brushing against your cheeks, leaving you no time to wonder over the fact that it’s the first time hyunjin has ever undressed you. 

as the kiss continues, you can feel yourself gushing more and more that you start grinding on him mindlessly, needing to feel more than just his bulge poking you. your hands leave his blonde strands to tug on his hoodie, only to have him stop you—one hand around your grip and the other rests on your hip.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

“need you. need to feel you,” you mumble, desperation so visible through your cracked voice. 

“what happened to the girl who was all flustered to sleep with me last night just because i was shirtless?”

autumn nights aren’t supposed to be hot, but hyunjin has proven he has the power to make the impossible happen just with his words and mocking smirk. but the rising heat on your cheeks is nothing compared to the emptiness you feel below, clenching around nothing surely isn’t the best feeling.

“please, jinnie,” you whine, tugging on his hoodie once more, hips moving against his hold.

“fuck.” is all he manages to say before getting off the bed to disrobe himself—hoodie and track pants thrown across the room, now showcasing his toned body and thighs altogether as he hovers over you.

“please take this off too. it looks suffocating,” you say, index finger running faintly through the bulge forming from his tight boxer, making it stand up even more and hyunjin has no choice but to obey you. “put your hair up too please,” you add just when he’s about to dive right back in, and again, your wish is his command.

biting to pull off his hair tie from his wrist, hyunjin smoothly ties his hair back and you’re only given a few seconds to admire his feature before his plump lips coming in contact with your hardened nipple while he toys with the other using his fingers—rubbing and pinching, making your breath hitch over the sensation, fingers digging into his bare shoulders because you don’t want to mess up his hair, and hyunjin’s low grunts pretty much indicate he’s loving it.

“more, please. give me m—”

hyunjin retreats his hand and tongue away from your breast, moving them to your naked pussy,  drawing circles on your outer labia with his middle finger. he teases you just enough and quickly slides in his digit and at the same time sucks on your clit right before you’re about to complain, making you tingle from head to toe.

“you hear that?” he asks, voice muffled, the effect of being too tongue tied from licking every part of your heat, but finger working its magic perfectly, creating loud wet noises from your fluid. “drenched. my pretty y/n is drenched,” says hyunjin, and as much as you want to comment on him for the pet name, you’re too caught up on how his lips vibrate against you the moment he starts palming himself with his unoccupied hand. if he keeps it up, you know you would come undone there and then, and you don’t want that—not yet. so you ask him to stop and he instantly does as told.

“what’s wrong? did i hurt you?” there’s fear written across his expression and heard from his tone, but you’d like to believe your eyes and lips are just playing tricks on you.

“n— no. i just,” you pause to avoid his gazes, but something within you pulls your attention back on him. “i wanna cum with you inside me,” you confess, voice barely audible due to embarrassment; all this time, it’s always been hyunjin to say such things, but perhaps, all the strange tension lately has finally gotten the best of you. you hear him mutter a low “fuck” while his pupils shakes for a brief moment before they somehow appear a shade darker. licking his lower lip, hyunjin pulls you by your legs and rests them on his shoulders, and proceeds to align his tip with your entrance, once again teasing your throbbing core.

the moment you whine is the moment hyunjin pushes himself inside ever so gently, but the stretching still has you throwing your head back, while hyunjin letting our airy moans upon your walls clenching around him. none of you can tell how it’s possible for your vagina to remain so tight after all the countless fucking session for the past half year, but hyunjin doesn’t find that troubling. in fact, he lives for that and it shows from the way his eyes roll to the back of his head as he begins thrusting in and out of you—slowly but steady, veiny hands secured on your hips, vision goes back and forth from your half-lidded eyes to your parted lips.

hyunjin leans down to kiss you for a couple of seconds, and when he lets go, he quickens his pace—leaning down once more so his length can go deeper in you, hitting your g-spot. at that very moment, you mentally praise yourself for placing the bedroom mirror right across the bed. it presents you with the magnificent view of hyunjin’s rounded, firm ass bouncing rhythmically whenever he snaps his hips, and placing your hands around them, squeezing them, nearly makes you drool over the sight. with hyunjin constant thrusts, the familiar knot in your abdomen starts to bubble up.

“oh my god,” the two of you whimper in unison as hyunjin begins to lose his tempo, moves also grow sloppy, but never once misses your spot.

“y/n, i— ah— i’m so close. fuck,” he breathes out, sweat forming on his forehead, wetting his baby hair down to his neck and chest, and you can only drool helplessly at the sight.

“me too. please cum inside me, cum with me, hyunjin, please, please,” you beg, voice a pitch higher, almost sounds like you strain your throat, and it stays the same. when you feel hyunjin twitch inside you, your hands automatically reach for the bed sheet again, but it only lasts for a second before they’re being taken by hyunjin’s own hands—he has never done this. while intertwining your fingers, his cock twitches again and his eyes roll to the back of his head, jaw falls open as he calls out your name—you naturally do the same, fingers pressing flat against his white knuckles

“hyu—”

“cum, baby,” he cuts you off, averting his hazy eyes on you, and that’s all it takes for you to break—your orgasm washes over you like waves and you cum undone around hyunjin, shaking and mewling altogether while feel the wet coldness around your inner thigh. hyunjin follows right after, shooting his hot cement inside of you; the man can no longer keep his eyes open as he buries his face on the crook of your neck, his choked moans bring music right to your ear all a while his hot breaths bring goosebumps to your unrecovered body.

after riding out your highs, none of you move. hyunjin stays on top of you, his chest rises and falls according to your hard breathing. somehow, it’s calming you down, but it shouldn’t.

“hyunjin, you’re heavy.”

“oh, sorry,” he chuckles and even without looking, you can tell his eyes are smiling too. with his remaining strength, hyunjin pushes himself up and rests on your thighs to pull his dick out of you, momentarily admiring the mixture of his juice and yours dripping down your cunt before fixing his eyes on you to study your face—also something he has never done before. 

“i’m sorry,” he mutters a few moments later, eyes now on you.

tilting your head, you sit up, resting your upper body with your hands on the bed. “all of a sudden? i came? you always make me feel good.”

“that’s what i’m sorry about. i— i didn’t mean to— i mean, i—”

you reach out to him, gently patting his thigh. “hyunjin, calm down. this isn’t like you,” you whisper the last sentence, knowing that perhaps, now’s the time to talk things out, to stop whatever is going on, and go back to how things are used to be, maybe? your heart’s just been restless for too long and apparently, hyunjin seems to be in a similar situation too.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to keep using you like this. i genuinely meant what i said. i only wanted to take you home, but we ended up here and—”

“isn’t that what fwb do?” you pull your hand off his thigh, and a frown painted across his face as if he’s questioning your question. “that’s what we agreed on. we have our fwb rules, remember?”

“one, be very casual. two, no strings attached. three, no fucks given outside of the, well, literal fucking,” says hyunjin, proving he has memorized every words to the back of his mind.

nodding, you carefully bring back your hand to his thigh, repeating the same movement you did before. “exactly. so you don’t have to be sorry. don’t worry, i’m not feeling used at all.” you end it with a smile.

hyunjin mirrors you, he smiles too; his eyes fall to where your hand is. “but what if i’m breaking them? the rules,” asks the boy whose cold hand is now on top of your warm one. “what if i like you?” his eyes find their way back to you, and that’s when you know. the difference between your temperatures; the difference between your smile and his—the sadness that lies within.

that’s when you understand. everything finally makes sense; every one of hyunjin’s unusual acts. the constant texts and calls, the undressing, the pet names, the facial expression, the hand holding.

what happened to the rules? feelings. that’s what happened. to hyunjin, it’s his feelings over the rules.

but you, what about you? the butterflies, the irregular increasing heartbeats, the flushing cheeks, the overthinking, the disappointment at some point.

“y/n,” hyunjin calls out and you don’t get to get back to him because he’s already an inch away from you, momentarily eyeing your lips before he closes the distance. once again, his blonde hair falls down, brushing against his cheek before meeting yours and it tickles you, but not in the same way as how his kiss tickles your heart; giddy.

what happened to the rules? unwanted feelings. that’s what happened. to you, it’s the unwanted feelings against the rules. and for now, the unwanted feelings are too strong for you to push him away, so you pull him close instead. for now.

—

gen’s masterlist

repeating this!! special note: HUGE THANK YOU for my awesome bestie for the banner 🥺💞💞 ily, bish!! thank you for being my beta reader too 😽😽😽

[shurisneakers]

harmless (vii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: hey shoutout to @ugherik for suggesting a spin on the “A PLATYPUS!??!“ [perry puts his hat on] “PERRY THE PLATYPUS!???” thing. i used it in here, it’s a really small part and probably missable but i tried!! also i like the next chapter better than this one, i just wanted to put this here so it doesn’t seem abrupt <3333

here’s

my ko-fi

if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Bucky can’t stop staring at the mirror.

He wishes it was for narcissistic purposes. He had enough reason for it to be. His age may be a hundred but he had the youthful exuberance of a very drained sixty year old.

But no, it wasn’t because of the steel cut jawline or thousand gigawatt smile.

After last week’s mini-spiral, he does what almost half the videos on TikTok warn him not to do.  

He got a haircut.

Everyone’s reaction stopped him from following it up with an ear piercing, but he can’t confidently say he didn’t at least consider it once. Maybe a neck tattoo. 

He pulls at a lock of hair. It’s not even longer than his finger.

What did he do-

“It’s just a haircut, man,” he says to no one in particular, almost like he’s trying to reassure himself.

He runs his hands through his hair. It takes lesser time than he was used to.

Steve had told him he looked good. But then again, Steve wore a fugly costume 90% of the time, what did he know?

Clint acknowledged it and didn’t outright call him ugly, which he supposed was a compliment. Wanda simply smiled at him.

“FRIDAY?” he reaches out.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” comes the automated reply.

“How are you?” It took him some getting used to her, given that she was constantly listening to everything, and in general seemed to go against the universal idea of privacy. 

But his therapist told him he needed to form friendships. 

She didn’t mention it had to be human ones.

“As good as ever. Is there anything I can help you with?”

He wants to ask her what she thinks of his hair until he realises fashion advice from a faceless AI is a new low for him. Maybe ‘Do you think I should crawl into a pit and die?’ would be more appropriate. 

“Never mind,” he dismisses instead. “Any messages for today?”

“A reminder to buy a harder bed because you can’t keep sleeping on the floor.” Ah, that was on Sam’s recommendation three months ago, but he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. “And a text from a contact named Nuisance saying to meet them at the attached location in thirty minutes.”

“Where is the location?”

“The local sports centre.”

“Isn’t that closed today?” 

If he had to go out in public looking like this, maybe he could wear a cap and sunglasses and no one would recognise him. Unfortunately, as he was reminded several times before by anyone with an iota of common sense, it was a stupid disguise. 

Beanie it was, then. Bare minimum. 

“It is, yes.” Fewer citizens to worry about.

“Okay.” He hesitates in front of the mirror again, adjusting the hat on his head. “Thank you, FRIDAY.”

“You’re welcome, Sergeant.”

He stares at the little tuft of hair at the front that refused to stay down no matter how much he shoved it back.

“Come on, man,” he exhales in slight despair. “Whatever.”

____

The lock of the door leading to the pool is easy enough to pick. He can see how you got in without a hitch even though it was closed. 

The deck around the pool was absolutely drenched in water. No one was using it, there was no reason for water to splash out unless it was deliberately kept like this.

He catches sight of you easily, being that you’re the only two people there. You were standing at the end of the hall, head ducked as you scrolled through your phone.

The door closes behind him with a soft thud.

You don’t look up from your mobile when you start talking, “What do you think 6 year olds like?”

Because James Barnes, carbon dated to 1917 and therefore certified young person, would definitely know the answer to this question.

“I don’t know. Lego?”

“Just how much money do you think a teacher makes-”

You stopped mid-sentence, finally lifting your head to catch his eye. He stares back at you, steps faltering when you don’t move.

"Who are you?" you squinted.

What

"It's me," Bucky says, tugging off the dumb beanie and using it to gesture vaguely towards himself. Fuck, he shouldn’t have worn it, it was ridiculous anyway-

"You sound like him..." You narrow your eyes. “You don't look like him.”

Great

He rolls his eyes before putting on a mock scowl. Can't have Bucky Barnes without a sense of eternal disgruntlement.

"Oh hey, that is you." You grin. "You got a haircut."

“I did.” He suddenly feels the awkwardness increase. His fingers fidget with the beanie.

“Nice.” You nod in acknowledgement.

He wants to hit himself at the words that just spill out before he could think about it. “You hate it.”

“I never said that,” you snort. “And since when does my opinion matter?”

“It doesn’t.” But now he wants to know what you think since he didn’t trust anyone else to tell him honestly.

“Must cut down on time in the shower, huh?”

It did.

He shrugs. He shoves the beanie into his back pocket.

“Was it a crisis haircut?” How did you kno- “Are you going to get bangs next time?”

“Shut up,” he says lamely, a dull burn in his cheeks. 

“I know a place where you can get hair dye for cheap. Not technically FDA approved, but I think purple streaks are a good place to start-”

“What are we doing here?” he interrupts, sighing.

“Skinny dipping. Take off your shirt, Barnes.” 

“Funny,” he says dryly, eyeing your shoes when you straighten up.

Ice skates.

“Fine, pants then.” You don’t make any effort to move from your end so he does, walking closer to you. 

“What are those for?” He doesn’t hide the annoyance from his voice when he points at your feet.

“Oh, these?” You look down at them. “Yeah, I’m going to freeze the pool.”

That seems... mild compared to the shit show you wanted to do last time.

“For?” He halts where he is. 

“’M gonna take my friends ice skating.”

“Is that all?” He wants to make a comment about the fact that you have friends but bites it back.

“Today is just a trial run. Tomorrow I’m gonna go freeze the East River.” There it is.

“The East River is not your personal ice skating rink.”

“Not yet it isn’t.” You lift up a middle finger.

It was too early for you to flip him off, even by your standards.

He raises an eyebrow.

Your face scrunches in confusion. You follow his gaze to your finger. “Oh yeah, no, that’s a freeze ring.”

Only then he notices a ring around the finger. From where he was standing he could make out the blue stone that adorned it.

“Joy.” He rolls up the sleeves of his black bomber jacket. “Let’s get this done with, then.”

“No no, wait.” You hold up your hand and he complies, having nothing to lose anyway. You pull out your phone and press a few buttons before shoving it back into your bag and tossing it aside.

The soft sounds of a piano start playing from a boombox near the corner of the room. A child starts singing following a series of knocks.

His eyebrows furrow. “What the fuck is this?”

“The Frozen soundtrack.” You beam at him. “I thought it was fitting.”

He doesn’t know what that is and at this point, he’s too afraid to ask. He can vaguely make out the lyrics being about a snowman but he isn’t too concerned.

He takes one step forward. You immediately point your fist at the ground in front of him, forcing him to jump back when a blast hits right in front of his shoes. Suddenly he gets why the floor is covered in water.

It sounds like a series of cracks as the water starts freezing over, a layer of ice now separating him and you.  

"You ready?” The mischief was woven in your voice as the blasts continued throughout the deck, effectively turning the entire floor into ice.

Bucky takes a step tentatively forward. Not bad. He takes another. Okay.

The third one is when shit starts to hit the fan. His hands shoot out to hold onto his balance when his footing slips from beneath him.

His Nike sneakers aren’t used to snow. They’re used to well manicured lawns and pavement trips to Starbucks and marble floors of the compound. Not swimming pool decks covered in ice.

He can hear you singing in the distance and every time he looks up you’re a little further away, making sure every inch of space is frozen.

It takes him a while to get over the initial fear of breaking his skull and just move forward swiftly with short steps. A goddamn penguin is what he looked like.

“There you go, you’re getting it,” you chirp as you whiz past him. He reaches out to grab at you, only to miss by an inch. He staggers, arms flapping wildly to regain his stability.

He hears crackling beside him. He gets a second or two to watch ice crystals spread through the water before turning it completely solid. You step onto the now frozen pool, testing your weight with one leg before cautiously getting on.

A triumphant smile emerges on your face. “Awesome.”

He manages to press himself against the wall as a form of support. 

There is no point to this whole thing. He knows this. It’s been well over 6 weeks and there is genuinely no point to this.

He realises it again when he moves from side to side, body erupting into a waddle. 

Why is he doing this. He doesn’t get paid extra. He doesn’t get any kind of compensation. All he gets is more wisecracking geniuses, embarrassment and the mortifying ordeal of getting caught imitating a penguin.

The song changes to a woman singing about doing something for the first time, forcing him to pay attention to it. He hears something about ball room and balls and tunes right back out.

Bucky manages to find his way to the actual pool since that’s where you’re twirling around, opting to land on his mental arm in case things go wrong. He takes a sliding step forward, followed by another. Maybe he can do this. 

“If a 200 pound super soldier can stand on this, I suppose it’s strong enough,” you muse, watching him slip and slide as he tries to invent makeshift ice skating.

Unfortunately, his method doesn’t have any brakes, so while he’s too busy trying to move forward, there’s no way to actually stop. He finds this out very soon when he almost launches himself off the edge of the pool.

Something yanks him backwards and back onto the ice.  

“Honestly, this is utterly useless since you can’t really do anything but it’s the most fun I’ve had all week,” you admit when he goes sliding towards the middle, arms flailing.

“You had to pick fuckin’ ice of all things.” He thinks that maybe he’s getting a hang of this. He can definitely move faster than what he was doing like, 10 minutes ago. It’s not like you were going anywhere, anyway. 

“I like to keep things spicy.”

He stays where he is to glare at you. You mouth the words to the song, watching his every move whenever it interested you. 

Okay, change of plan; a temporary distraction till he figures out how to actually get the ring from you. He settles on skating towards the edge of the rink slowly, taking a step off, slipping almost immediately when his foot comes in contact with the deck. 

“Where are you going?” you yell over the music initially but immediately break into song when it ends in a crescendo.

He takes a knee, lifting his metal arm up before driving it into the ground. It shatters magnificently, leaving small shards of ice at his disposal. 

He picks up one of them, waiting for you to complete your dumb twirl. He takes aim, and-

“Ouch, what the fuck?” You stop your off key singing to rub your shoulder where the ice hit you.

He wordlessly picks up another piece to throw at you, hitting you squarely in the leg.

“Stop that!”

He may not be able to move as fast but he can definitely throw. 

“Give me the ring,” he commands, stretching his arm behind his back before releasing another piece to hit your forearm. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s nowhere you can skate to avoid his stupidly good marksmanship. 

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” He shrugs, breaking another patch of ice to replenish his ammo. “Hand over the ring.”

“Over my dead body,” you shriek when a particularly big piece lands next to your feet. You knew he missed that shot on purpose.

“I feel like I’m finally acting my age,” he says casually, finding your darting about in order to avoid him more fun than he initially thought. “Can’t throw pebbles at meddling kids so this is the next best option. Thanks.” 

“If you acted your age you’d be in a casket, Barnes,” you hissed, finding that skating in zig zags helped your cause, but not by much. “I’d be- you bitch- I’d be more than happy to help you get there.”

You raise your arm, ready to send another blast to freeze the water that was starting to melt around him, hopefully, keep him where he was if it froze around him. 

He flinches. You notice immediately, hand dropping slightly when you realise what it looked like.

“I’m not gonna freeze you,” you say, softer than you intended. From what you knew, he had enough and more experience with that and you weren’t going to contribute to it. 

He swallows thickly, giving himself a little shake of his head as if to jolt him out of his train of thought. 

Another piece of ice hits you in the leg. You let out a string of curses at him.

“The more ice you make, the more I have to throw at you, Y/N.” He waits for you to regain your balance when you nearly take a stumble. 

“Shut up, you’re so immature.”

“Remind me whose plan this was again?” No point waiting for you to regain your balance when you fall over only a few seconds later. 

He gathers a few shards in his beanie, tucking it into his belt like a little makeshift rucksack just in case before venturing out on the main rink again. 

It’s more difficult for you to stand without railings to guide you, giving him enough and more time to make his way towards you, staggering and skidding. 

Both of you looked ridiculous. 

“Stay away, fiend.” 

“Ring first.” He holds his hand out in front of you. He even considered pulling you up if you just made things easier.

Next thing he knows he’s on his ass on the ice beside you. 

“I hate you,” he groans, watching as you inch away from him on your knees.

He doesn’t really have any other options so he shoves aside the humiliation and gets on his knees, using his arms to drag him along the ice.

“For the love of Christ, none of us are winning here. Just give me the ring.”

The bitch from the soundtrack sings about letting it go but he won’t. 

“Never,” you shout, sliding away from him as fast as possible. 

You make use of the fact that the top layer of ice is starting to melt, using the ring to freeze it again. His knees and fingers get stuck as the water freezes over but he has super strength. It barely takes him a second to free himself. 

“Great,” he huffs, just settling down on the ice, ignoring the sting of cold that was spreading through his limbs. Running after you wasn’t going to work; he needed a way to get the ring. 

“You won last time, I’m not letting you win again.”

“Are we seriously keeping score?” He watches as you scramble towards the edge.

“No one likes a loser, Bucky.” You use the pool stair railings to pull yourself up.

“Explain why you have friends then.” He can’t help himself this time. 

“Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes. 

He doesn’t make an effort to move. Instead, when you take a step back into the rink, he raises his arm and pummels it into the ice, just to annoy you. 

The ground damn near shakes, pushing you dangerously towards losing your balance again. 

“Are you crazy?” Your arm shoots out in front of you to keep you from falling headfirst. 

“No.” He does it again. This time there’s a crack in the ice. “I’m just very tired.”

“If the ice breaks we’re both gonna be underwater, you moron!”

“Fine by me.” He shrugs. “Freeze it again. I’ll just find different ways to ruin it for you.”

You glare at him. He raises his arm above his head again.

“Fine! Fine, stop.” You eye him as he lowers his arm. 

He reaches for his stash of ice pieces from earlier, throwing one at your shoulder again.

“Boy, I swear if you don’t stop doing that-” you duck when another one comes at you. You had no idea he could be this annoying. 

It suddenly hits him, like a lightbulb going off in his brain. He wipes his hands off on his jacket, getting on all fours before slowly managing to pick himself up again. 

He looks at you, tilting his head slightly like he was studying you.

“What?” you ask suspiciously, eyeing as he starts inching closer towards you. “What are you thinking?”

It’s like watching a newborn deer stumble its way through the world, albeit more gracefully, until he starts picking up speed. The motherfucker was going to mow you down.

The skates are useful but not so much when an extremely determined bumbling oaf is barrelling towards you, his speed beginning to match yours even without equipment. 

You don’t know why you’re running, you don’t know why he’s chasing after you but when you see the end of the pool you take a sharp left only to have him knock right into you, sending you both sprawling.

You land half on top of him, breaking your fall but it doesn’t stop the very loud groan that escapes your mouth. He’s already in the process of sitting up straight, giving you less time to analyse what just happened.

“What the fuck was that for?” you speak through gritted teeth. “Fuckin’ acting like the both of us have free healthcare.”

“You refused to give up.”

“So your plan was to tackle me like a quarterback?” You threw your hands up.  

“One part of it.” He drags himself to the edge, away from you. 

“There's more to your monkey brained plan?” He doesn’t look at you. The ice around the pool has more or less melted, letting him gain proper footing on the floor before he stands up. 

“Oh, yeah.” He turns to you. “The other’s a trick I stole from Stark.”

Bucky holds up the ring. Your jaw slightly drops, eyes searching your finger for the now missing piece of tech. 

“Suppose that’s two points for me?” 

You’re impressed. You also want to stab him. So you do the next best thing.

“When I imagined you holding a ring in front of me, the circumstances were very different,” you comment.

“Bye, Y/N.” He spins on his heel, not even giving you a second’s worth of reaction. You found it amusing.

He heads towards the door, clothes all wet. He empties out melted ice water from his beanie before stuffing it into his pocket. Just when he’s about to leave, you remember something. 

Do you mean it genuinely or just because it has an effect on him? 

“Just for the record, Barnes, about your hair-” you call out, earning his attention from over his shoulder. “I think you look really good either way.”

The world may never know. 

You swear you can see the corners of his lips quirk upwards before he turns around again. 

He slips on a block of ice, cursing and clenching on to the door to keep him upright, quickly yanking it open and leaving before he has a chance to embarrass himself further.

Smooth.

Next part

[catholicdaredevil]

So, thank you for answering me basically writing a monologue about how much I like Foggy and you. So, I decided to be brave and, as you said, request something! Since I think he deserves all the love, maybe something about Reader that just loves giving affection? He would be a bit pouty when she hugs Karen or Matt for the 100th time - but he gets things other don't - kisses! So many of them! So kissing Foggy until he's flustered (but sill wanting more, he loves them)? If no that's fine <3

this is so fucking cute it made me want to v^mit but in a good way and i love it and have been so excited to write it so here is just super affectionate reader and her super dummy affectionate boyfriend foggy nelson also i'm so glad you decided to be brave this is one of my favorite requests because its so cute and just my type and i will listen to all of your monologues about foggy because he deserves it it's like slightly different from the request hope thats okay!!

there was nothing that felt better than cracking a case, all the hours put into it. the late nights, early mornings, weeks with less sleep than any human should ever be running on. nothing but coffee and spite keeping the four of you at nelson and murdock running.

not guilty, the best words to hear as two defense attorneys and their staff. not guilty, and it meant the four of you getting trashed at josie's.

"to nelson and murdock!" you offered, your drink lifted in the air. the answering cheer from your comrades loud enough to earn your table a couple glares from the other patrons.

"nelson and murdock!" foggy echoed, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you tight into his side.

foggy was a touchy, affectionate person at the best of times, and you loved it. more than happy to give him kiss after kiss, to be attached to him by hands or arms wrapped around the other. long loving gazes traded over desks filled with paperwork. but when he got drunk, it was all over.

drunk foggy was impossible to keep off you, his large hands insistent on being in contact with you in some way or another. he didn't care about sideways looks from strangers, or teasing jibes from matt or karen. not a care in the world for drunk foggy that couldn't be cured just by touching you. and tonight was no different, he'd inched closer to you on the booth with every drink until his side had melted into yours.

"i gotta go pee babe, i'll be right back." he pulled you closer with a pout, only helped by a loud kiss smacked onto it before letting you go to climb out of your seat.

"i'll join you," karen offered, elegantly sliding from beside matt to stand. drunkenly linked arms and almost tripped skipped steps led the two of you off across sticky floors to the bathroom at the back of the bar.

"i love them so much," foggy had been drinking more than any of you, his words slurred and clumsy.

"yeah fog, i know." matt couldn't help but smile, happy to watch his best friend be a love-sick fool. foggy had always been a cheery person, but it was a change to see him go from cheery to as happy as he now was. almost impossible to imagine him any other way than this, foolishly deepy in love.

"love them so much, so much," he repeated, and matt reached out to pat his hand against foggys arm on the table. mentally reminding himself to not expect foggy at the office tomorrow until late, and to grab painkillers for him in the morning in expectation of the massive hangover foggy was sure to have.

you and karen came bustling out of the bathroom, wrapped into each other giggling loudly. you stumbled on your way, only staying upright with karens strong hold under your shoulders which only stirred up another fit of laughter. foggy watched on with a mix of joy at seeing you, and a strong underlying urge to connect his body with yours in any way he could get away with.

when you finally sat back down, matt whispering in karens ear about how the two of them we're going to need to be responsible for getting the two of you home, foggy reached out to pull you sideways into his lap. his face found it's home in your hair, that somehow always smelled like strawberries, and his warm arms heavy around your waist.

"you're vrry soft," he softly mumbled and you lit up, face heating as you burrowed down into his hold. you turned to press a kiss to his cheek, ignoring his protest at losing his hiding place in your hair. one kiss turned to two, turned to you peppering loud obnoxious kisses across every inch of his face framed by your gentle fingers.

when you finally pulled back, his long blonde hair was somehow all messed up and his cheeks a flamed red. you leaned in again to knock your nose into his, before he sloppily connected his mouth with yours.

"we gotta get them going before they start making out- and they're making out." karen rolled her eyes and grabbed her wallet out of her purse before throwing cash down on the table and grabbing your bag along with her, knowing it would otherwise be forgotten.

"hey guys, why don't we go home? huh? doesn't a bed sound good right now?" foggy pulled off you at matts words and he paused while his brain struggled to work through the weight of alcohol to find what matt was offering.

"bed?"

"yes, bed."

"yes. bed." karen held her hand out for you to take, and pulled you out from your warm spot in foggy's arms.

thats how you walked home, karen's delicate arm around your shoulders and matt holding foggy up behind you, loudly yelling vague excitement at another case well done.

[yutanology]

Kids (Prologue)| NCT Dream × Fem!Reader

Warning : cliche, a few cusses, little fluff, possessiveness, NCT Dream being bratty and stubborn. No proofread :(

Synopsis : Y/n somehow ended up helping Mark babysit his stepbrothers for the weekend. That two days of babysitting soon turned into frequent days of her visiting them as they would throw a fit if she wouldn't. When she thought everything would be fine soon, it only became worse as time passed by.

Take note that Mark and Y/n are at the same age(15). 00 line are 7 while Chenle is 6 and Jisung is 5.

"Vroom! Vroom! Vrooom!" Jisung said loudly through his pouted lips. He was sitting on his big toy car, imitating the roaring machine of an actual car.

Behind him was Chenle pushing him on all sides of the wide nursery room to make Jisung feel like he's really driving the car. The younger kid raised both his hands up, enjoying the ride and the room was filled with their cute giggles.

"Hey, slow down. You might get hurt—" Mark immediately cut his own words, replacing it with a loud yelp when the wheels of the car they were riding ran on his toes. "Ahhh!" he instinctively crouched down to hold his toes that were now throbbing in pain.

The duo didn't even bother to look back at him and ask if he's okay cuz they're too entertained to even notice his suffering.

"Y/n, help!" he called out for the female who just entered the room carrying a very hyper Haechan on her arms that she chased around the house for almost half an hour so she could get him to wear his pants.

She had such a great time giving him a bath. Haechan splashed water on her clothes, saying that he wanted her to join him on his bubble bath. Ending him getting her hoodie soaked wet (she took it off and let it dry), thankfully, her shirt was safe.

He wanted to play with her all the time. He doesn't want her to take a break even for a damn minute and he never ran out of some things he'd like to say. Either he makes sense or not, he doesn't care.

She wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to be enjoying her time alone at home while it's still weekend but here she is, babysitting her friend's stepbrothers. It just so happened that she met Mark's parents when both of them walked home together yesterday from school.

They had a little chitchat and eventually got along. Then that's when they asked her a favor to help Mark take care of his stepbrothers during the weekend as they won't be able to keep an eye on them because of their busy schedules.

She was about to decline until she heard that they're going to pay her a fair price. Yup, she needed money that's why she agreed with them. Her family is not as rich as the Lees so she can't always get the things she wanted to buy. So in order to be able to, she had to work for it. She got her parent's permission that night, letting her do what she wanted.

"Why? What happened?" she asked Mark, trying to keep Haechan still or he'll fall down but she decided to put his feet on the floor. "Nooo! Carry me! Carry me!" Haechan whined, holding his arms up to her.

She tiredly sighed, picking him up again. She knew the last thing to do to him is to make him upset. He'd cry nonstop and would totally be mad at everyone. She didn't want that. Things would be harder to handle than it already is right now.

"My toes freaking hurt! I don't think I'll be able to stand up." He over exaggerated.

Y/n approached him to check if he's alright then found his toes flamming red. "Oh god, uhm, I'll go get some ice or something. I don't know how to treat that but I hope it would help." she rushed to the kitchen with Haechan still on her arms.

Opening the top of the fridge, she saw an ice pack. She grabbed it and was about to close the fridge when Haechan spotted the fruit popsicles. "I want that." he pointed at the sweet treats that caught his attention.

She reached the first popsicle, "I don't like that. I want the strawberry." then she gave him one. He better not have cavities for eating too much sweets or else she'd be blamed for it.

She helped him get rid of the plastic wrapper, throwing it on the trash bin before letting him eat the fruit popsicle. His eyes almost literally twinkled once the cold strawberry treat touched his tongue. At least, he's happy now.

They both went back to the room, handing Mark the ice pack to help it ease the pain on his poor toes. "Thanks." Mark sighed and she nodded, sitting beside him on the sofa but their eyes are still on the kids just to make sure they're okay.

"Where are your maids? Aren't they supposed to be helping us here?"

"They all went home to their families. Only our cook and our driver are the only workers left here." That explains why she didn't bump into someone else in this house.

Renjun was not so far from them. He's quietly sitting on the carpeted floor attaching puzzle pieces together, focusing on completing the picture into whole. Despite the whole chaos going on around him, he somehow found peace on the corner of the room.

Well, not until he found out that Jeno was chewing on the other puzzle pieces. He's been trying to look at the missing items on his puzzle only to find out that they're with Jeno all the time.

The two kids fought. Renjun was huffing mad while Jeno was crying. Even though he already said sorry, Renjun doesn't seem to forgive him anytime soon for ruining his puzzle that he worked on for hours since this morning.

Mark limped his way to Jeno to calm him down and Y/n took care of Renjun (and Haechan, of course). She was in the middle of a conversation with Renjun when she felt a tug on her shirt.

Looking down, she saw a sleepy Jaemin rubbing his eyes. "I'm sleepy." he said. He must've been worn out from joining Haechan at every trouble he initiated.

"Oh, wait a second." she told him, he silently nodded.

"Haechan, can you please sit here with Renjun for a while?" she carefully put him beside the said boy.

"Huh? But why? Where are you going?" he asked her after he took out the popsicle out of his mouth.

She lifted Jaemin on her arms this time which Haechan frowned at. "I'll just go take him to his room. I'll be back, I promise." She waited him to say something but he stayed silent, glaring at the boy playing her hair, completely unaware of the piercing gaze of his stepbrother.

"Uhm, we'll go now..." she awkwardly informed him before making her way out of the room for the nth time of the day. This time, she's the one unaware of Jaemin sticking his tongue at Haechan to tease him. Before he could stomp his way to him, Y/n was already out of the room with Jaemin, leaving both Renjun and Haechan angry of different reasons.

Throughout the whole time she carried Jaemin to his room, he continued to play with her hair. Twirling silky strands of her hair on his small fingers, droopy eyes slowly closing and his head weighed on her shoulder.

Assuming that he fell asleep, Y/n could only sigh in relief that one of the most chaotic step brothers finally took his rest. After climbing a few more flight of stairs, she reached his room at last. The whole mansion is too big for her liking but she's not the one living here so she can't have something to say to it.

She pushed the door open, laying Jaemin on his queen sized bed then she covered half of his body with his comforters. "Sleep well, Jaemin." she kissed his forehead before she left him and he slept with a smile adorning his lips.

"What took you so long?" Haechan immediately asked her, arms crossed on his chest and his brows still furrowed together. "Haechan, you know how far Jaemin's room is from here. Come on, stop being sulky. I'm already here."

She glanced at Mark reading a book for Jisung, Chenle and Jeno on the table. "Why don't you join them?" Haechan shook his head. "Because I don't want to."

"Aren't you going to take your afternoon nap too?"

"No."

"What about—" he didn't let her finish her words as he stood up and stomped away out of the nursery room. He left her there confused. Renjun who had finally cooled off his anger approached her.

"He's mad at you."

Y/n looked down at him. "I just tucked Jaemin to sleep. Why'd he gotta make a big deal about it?" she asked as if she's talking to herself. Renjun knew the answer but didn't blurt out anything about it instead he held her hand.

"Can we go pick flowers on the garden?" she smiled at him with a nod. "Yeah, sure. Let's go."

[yuzukult]

acquitted love || sjn & reader

title: acquitted love pairing: johnny suh x reader genre: fluff, angst, co-workers!au, lawyer!au, one-sided enemies to lovers word count: 8.7k warnings: some language/cursing, brief mentions of sex but there's no actual discussions or explicit conversations of the topic, but generally pg-13 prompt: you absolutely hate johnny suh. but when your boss pairs you two up together for one of the highest profile cases, you’re left working close with your enemy but he doesn’t seem to think that way of you. a/n: tada!! i wrote this for the @/ficscafe fic exchange event!! so @urlocalnctstan​ , hope you enjoy this !! i tried to write it according to what you put as your preferences, but honestly T_T it was so hard bc i was just not getting any ideas!! hopefully this is something you’d like :D enjoy !!

“God, isn’t he just… so attractive?”

Along with a click on your tongue, you feign a hit in Hyeri’s direction, whose reflexes have gotten so much faster in the past couple years of knowing you and it shows when she cowers underneath your arm. She gifts you that not-so-apologetic smile, full of mischievousness because she knows no matter how annoying she can be, you’ll still love her nonetheless.

“Why do you keep talking about Johnny? You know he’s banned as a topic of our conversations.”

Hyeri rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her white frilled blouse. You know that she doesn’t actually inhabit any romantic feelings for Johnny, but she has a problem of thinking without the usage of her brain when she sees a hot guy.

Not that you think Johnny is hot.

No.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t think he’s at least an ounce of smokin’ hot.” She’s unraveled her arms by now, poking your shoulder incessantly to grasp onto your attention as you're tapping on the buttons of the copier machine. “I bet if you asked him out, he’d say yes.”

You briefly glare at Hyeri. “You realize that he and I don’t get along, right? He keeps finding stupid loopholes in the system to win his cases. He thinks with his heart, not his head, and sometimes, with whatever that thing was in his pants.” And, not to mention that he walks out the court with that big grin stretched from cheek to cheek, giving the ‘good news’ to your well-respected boss (who you desperately seek the approval of but that’s a different story for another time). And every single time, she gives him that nod of appreciation, that ‘nod of approval’ if you will, when it should be given to you and not to some asshole who fucks his way to victory.

“But he’s so hot—”

You narrow your eyes at your friend, and with a stern voice, you call out, “Hyeri.”

She shrugs. “Honestly, though, he’s hella smart. He’s got a job here, and works under your boss. It’s Park, Kim & Associates—notice how Park is first, because she’s a fucking genius. She only picks the intelligent ones to work under her. Why do you think I’m still working for Mr. Kim?”

Park Seohyun and Kim Gonghyun—one of the biggest lawyers in the region, decided to join together to build their own law firm from the ground up. They were both highly respected in their field; Kim Gonghyun spent years of his life being mentored by one of the most famous judges, and as for Park Seohyun, she was, simply put, admirable because of the obstacles she has overcome to make her dreams of working in law to be real. Being a woman, young, and beautiful, she’s had her fair share of encounters with people who disregard her potential, that is until she met Gonghyun—who, admittingly is an old man who seems like he’d be traditional, sexist, even, but he proves to also make people realize how wrong they are with their impression of him.

But, as Mr. Kim is getting older, he’s gotten a bit… lazy.

In fact, he’s been slacking so much that he’s gotten a new rep in the office—if he was your direct supervisor, or your supervisor was under him, you were on the side of the office where all the easier, uncomplicated cases were assigned. Which meant that there was a slight possibility that your talents and skills weren’t as sharp and exceptional as you thought they were.

And well, Hyeri works directly underneath Mr. Kim.

Hyeri doesn’t want a heavy workload, despite the fact that there’s a plethora of files on her desk, stacked up one onto another as tall as her PC tower, and they were all open and closed cases—needless to say that she didn’t mind it.

“Okay, but you got offered a position under Seohyun. Do you really think you’re not wasting your potential?”

Hyeri scoffs. “Never. At least, not now. I’m still in my twenties, I’d like to enjoy my youth while I can, for your information.”

You quirk a brow. “And does any of that pertain fucking Johnny? The hot guy, so you claim?”

She immediately has her hand covering your mouth and you scowl. “Shhhhh, he works here!”

You bite the flesh of her hand and Hyeri instantly retracts. “You think I don’t know my archenemy works here? He sits directly across from my office—I get the best view of the guy and I’m not even one of his fangirls.”

“You’re not gonna be one of those girls who claim they’re different because they don’t like him but then end up falling for him anyway… are you?”

Your hand goes up and Hyeri crouches down.

“Stop it.”

“Seriously though! It’s the classic e2l love story,” she has her hands gesturing in front of her like she’s making an imaginary rainbow, “Two lawyers, constantly butting heads, accept each other’s differences and learn to love—“

“The fuck is an ‘e2l’?”

“Enemies to lovers.”

“Are you high? Stop spitting nonsense.” This time, you’re waving the stack of papers that finish printing in front of her face. “Meet me for lunch later. But if you keep talking about my archenemy and I falling in love, you can kiss a free meal goodbye.”

Hyeri gasps.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Maybe. Just maybe, Hyeri might be a tiny smidge right when she says Johnny is handsome. Just a bit though, because she can’t get credit for something like that.

He’s dyed his hair this shade of brunette that sort of reminds you of roasted chestnuts on a cold, winter day, sitting inside of a cooker outside of your childhood home, baking along with some sweet potatoes your mom had gotten from a farmer’s market nearby. Johnny has this focused gaze attached to the screen of his monitor; there’s a dip in the fronts of his brows, lips tightened into a straight line, and constant switching back and forth from the computer while taking notes down in a book that’s laid open in front of him.

You wonder what’s running through his mind, or well, you’re more interested in what files he has sprawled out on top of his desk.

Truthfully, if it hadn’t been obvious enough, you weren’t quite a fan of Johnny Suh and it’s mostly due to his work ethic. He’d been notorious for his reputation of sleeping around—especially with the opposing side—so it’s hard to convince yourself that he didn’t win the case because of his actual capabilities, but it’s because he pulled some strings.

And Johnny doesn’t put much effort into denying it either.

Albeit deep down, you were a teeny bit envious of his confidence. He struts around the courtroom with ease, and when he presents his position, there’s no staggering in his voice—it’s always crisp and clean, weighted with nothing but credence, and never straying from his initial perspective. It’s never a lack of poise, it’s consistently the look he goes for; from the hand gestures and the furrowed brows, to the rhetorical questions in the end of certain statements that has the speculators and jury sitting at the edge of their seat, Johnny had a talent for performing in the courtroom, but that doesn’t mean anything when the way he gets to the success isn’t ethical.

Just at that moment, his eyes lift from the screen and meet yours.

There isn’t any hesitation when you scramble to grab the remote controller, and the shades drop over the windows instantaneously.

“Fuck,” you mutter underneath your breath, tossing the remote onto your desk and shaking your hands after. What if he thought you were admiring him? Maybe he didn’t see. Yeah. It was for a brief second, and with how close your offices were to each other, it would be common to accidentally lock eyes… right?

Interrupting your thoughts, the office phone rings and it nearly startles the living soul out of you. But before you reach for it, your head tilts to the side curiously because the extension number is familiar—it’s Park Seohyun’s, your boss.

What could she be calling for?

You don’t remember fucking something up—but to be fair, half the times, you never really know if you’ve actually fucked up until someone with steaming ears and a crimson face comes storming in. So… did you do something good? Again, you don’t think that’s right either, because other people would’ve made comments about it.

Deciding to swallow your nerves, you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Seohyun never fails to be bubbly, and you could never mimic her energy. You definitely had to be born with that kind of enthusiasm. “I have a favor. Hop into my office.”

Leaned back in her leather swivel chair, she had her fingers laced with each other while resting over her stomach. Johnny stands beside you (and you do your best to not look directly at him, especially after that weird staring thing), and you both feel like kids being lectured by parents from how still you are. Her office is huge, probably the size of both yours and Johnny’s combined; with ceiling to floor windows, cases of books that line the perimeter, not to mention the humongous ass couch that practically covers the other half of the room, and her desk was so wide, you estimate about four monitors would fit on there with still additional space for work. That wasn’t even the best part—the view of the city looks almost like a generic lockscreen of a Windows computer, and you’re not even sure why she goes home at night when she basically has a penthouse here.

“As you know, I have a favor.”

“Right,” Johnny retorts, mostly as a filler in the awkward silence. “So… what’s the favor?”

She pulls a box from her purse; square, black and made from a leather material with a lock pad stitched into it, something you’ve never seen before, and she slides the passcode in, then it pops the lid open. A key (a… very small one) sits in the velvety cushion, with nothing else occupying the space with it, and it looks comical. She uses this to open the very top drawer of her desk, and as she pulls using the handle, there’s another box inside, but this time, metal instead of leather, but still black.

What the fuck?

It seems Johnny shares the same thoughts, because he sneaks a glance over at you.

“You see,” Seohyun begins, pressing on the digital keys of the box until there’s a beep at the end and the case hisses open. “There’s a lot of security for this. Which means you understand the importance of it.”

Then, she picks up four manila envelopes and lies on the surface of her wooden top desk. “I have a family emergency to attend to this upcoming week. I’m boarding a flight tonight. So I’m leaving the Hwang v. Yoon case to the two of you.”

“Fuck—”

“The what?”

You and Johnny are sputtering out of shock. The Hwang v. Yoon case is the biggest case that the firm is involved in currently, and the only people involved in it have been Seohyun and Gonghyun. It’s been on every social media platform you could think of; from Facebook to Twitter, TikTok to Instagram—there’s even this weird website for emo/grunge teens or strange kids that like writing fanfic called Tumblr, and whatever that is, it’s discussed on there too.

“What about Gonghyun?”

Seohyun scoffs, closing the drawer and dropping the key back into her special box. Where do you even get a box like that? “He can’t handle this alone. So I’m kicking him off until I come back. I thought about letting the two of you work with him, but his ego is so inflated, it’ll get in the way of our chances of winning. It’s easier if it was just me and him, but seeing that things at home aren’t well, I’m going to need you two to step up to the plate.”

The room goes quiet. The only sounds you hear are the muffled noises of a typical bustling office outside the thick walls of Seohyun’s office, and at first, excitement rushes through your blood because Seohyun thought of you taking over a special, high profile case.

Albeit, another realization gets soaked up, and it’s that Johnny also came to mind, and that because it’s such an important case, the two of you would be… working… many… hours… together.

Maybe you should back out of it—but then again, this is such a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Imagine winning this— it wouldn’t be good for just the law firm, it’d be good for you too. Your name, in articles on these big fancy news websites, perhaps even on new channels, talking about how you, this amazing lawyer, won the Hwang v. Yoon case.

But then you’re snapped back into reality when Johnny leans over to take the envelopes from Seohyun.

If your name is on those platforms, so is Johnny’s.

God, this guy just ruins everything, doesn’t he?

“We’ll take care of it, Seohyun. You can trust us,” he says assuringly, a smile tugging on each corner of his lips with that dazzling gaze. “We’ll be at our best.”

Kiss ass.

If you had the option, you wouldn’t be spending your Saturday night here at work, in one of those conference rooms with a long table in the middle, a big projector that displays on the wall, and a random black leather loveseat couch that lines the one corner in case there’s too many occupants.

Especially since the person who’s accompanying you is Johnny Suh.

There’s probably a lot of people who would kill to be in your position (Hyeri being one of them), but you dread it. Not to be that person, but what’s so special about him anyway? What? He’s tall, has some muscles, long luscious hair that he can slick back with that sultry stare—wait, what?

“Alright, moving on…” From what? You guys just started? It’d been clear with Seohyun that the mornings would be dedicated to other cases, but nights would be considered overtime and where you’d zoom in your focus on Ms. Hwang’s justice. “Let’s take a look at the facts here.”

Johnny slips off his blazer, hanging it on the back of one of the chairs as you’re seated in another, leaning back comfortably with an arm resting on the table. He loosens the first few buttons of his dress shirt before folding up the sleeves, and that’s when you notice a little thing in the inner crook of his elbow—is that a fucking sunflower? Is that what he uses to reel girls in? That he’s soft enough to have a pretty little flower etched onto his gentle, silky and supple—

“Okay,” he says, interjecting into your thoughts with a laser pointer in his hand. He taps on the space bar of his laptop that mirrors what’s on his screen, but then, that’s when you realize what’s on the slides.

There’s a collage of pictures, mostly street, casually walking themed ones, but the common factor was that they were of Yoon Changmin, the man you guys were up against. They were all paparazzi-like photos, which begs the question, how did he get pics like this, and why did he get them?

“What’s the point of this?” you ask, voice laced with nothing but suspicion.

“We gotta get into the mind of the enemy.” You wanna get into the mind of your enemy, too.

You gesture to the one image of Changmin with an arm around his girlfriend and a finger up his nose. “Seems like he’s trying to reach inside of his head instead of us. These are just everyday pictures, Johnny. What’s that going to do for us?”

“Well,” he begins, turning to look at the wall of ‘evidence’. “You see—wait, holy shit.”

Freezing in the midst of reaching for your coffee, your head jolts in the direction of your partner. “What? What is it?”

“Holy shit,” he exclaims, “Hoooooooooly shit. Why didn’t I see this before? This changes everything.”

Furrowing your brows, you’ve given up getting your drink and dropped your hands onto the table. “Tell me, what is it?”

“This is a game changer.”

“Johnny,” you call out sternly, and his eyes link with yours before he instantly points to a particular picture with his red laser pointer.

“Look at that.” There’s pride saturated in his words, but when you look at what he’s indicating, your body slouches in disappointment.

Why the hell was he directing your attention onto Changmin’s thighs? Surely, there’s no denying that they were attractive—you recall that his alibi was at the gym that very night of the crime.

“What? He’s guilty for showing off his toothpick legs?” They were lean, you never said they were muscular.

“No,” he retorts, slightly irritated by your response as he rolls his eyes. “Look at his pants.”

“Okay…”

“They’re jean shorts.”

There’s a pregnant pause, but the expression on your face is so loud it can’t be hidden.

Johnny continues, “That’s a fashion crime.” He says it as if it’s an obvious fact known by many. “Not to mention that it’s fucking raw hem. He should be arrested.”

Suddenly, your opinion of him thinking too much with his heart dissipates because it seems like he’s thinking out of his ass instead. Did he win those cases out of pity? How did this guy even pass the bar? How about law school? How the hell did he even get into law school?

“I don’t think—”

“Listen, alright, just hear me out,” he’s got the palms of his hands resting flat on the surface of the table, doing his best to gain your full undivided attention. “Only assholes wear jean shorts. They flaunt that shit around like they own the place, but they’re horrendous pieces of clothing that should not be on a male’s body. I don’t care what you say, what your opinion is, because that is a fact.”

Puffing your cheeks, you feel at a loss. If Johnny is who you had to get this done, it feels like you’re not going to be finding much evidence any time soon.

“Okay, if… if that’s how you want to play it, then show me the evidence—other than those 2012 cut off denim shorts.”

He reaches over to hit his space bar again, then with a wink and a slide change, he leans closer to you and says with that deep, honeyed voice, “Gladly.”

You hate admitting when you’re wrong.

Ironically, you concede and will confess when you actually are, but it doesn’t mean that you enjoy it. For example, when Hyeri claims that the intern Mark had a crush on you, you quickly waved her off, stating something along the lines of, “I’m too intimidating; there’s better chances of him being scared of me than ever finding me attractive.” And then a week later, you owed Hyeri free lunch at that hip ramen place downtown because Mark had approached your desk that very morning with a bouquet of red roses flowers for you, a cheeky grin glued to his face with pools of hearts in his eyes, and ready to ask you on a date because it was the day after his internship had ended. Naturally, it wasn’t fun rejecting that poor college boy.

But, you won’t say you find Johnny interesting or handsome. Or that there’s potential when it came to possibly (just barely the slightest smidge) that you’d ever consider asking Johnny out. He’s your enemy here, you’ve mentioned that a multitude of times, and you stand firm on that very declaration, despite the fact that sometimes when he gets too close, your breath gets caught in your throat and you feel like you can’t get whatever’s lodged in out.

Albeit it’s not the whole “you guys are gonna end up together” comment that Hyeri makes and resulting in you denying it afterwards, it’s that Johnny might… be a decent lawyer.

He’s not the best one you’ve seen; the stupid revelation he had on the first day working on the case about the jean shorts is evidence for it, but it’s the days following that were slowly changing your perspective on him.

When you said, “He thinks too much with his heart more than with his head,” it was 100% correct.

When meeting with potential witnesses, you recognized that Johnny empathizes with people often; when they cry and start panicking from being overwhelmed, he's quick on his feet to put an arm around them, share reassuring words, and have them back to normal in record’s time.

And, well… you? You’re the one making them cry in the first place.

You don’t want to fully take the blame for being the cause of their tears, but people need to hear what’s happening, and the very detail that they can’t even handle this information probably means they’re not worthwhile as a key witness.

Johnny, of course, thinks otherwise.

He believes that these people should have a voice (although you’ve alluded that they might be more useless than helpful), and putting them on the stand with Yoon Changmin there would change the view of the jury to supporting Hwang Naeri.

“Listen, if we get these people to sign the form, we’d get witnesses and it’ll help Naeri,” Johnny claims, frantically moving his arms annoyingly as he talks, trying his best to express the gravity of the situation, “and maybe, maybe, money wouldn’t be how Changmin wins, but how he loses. We can’t have another person with jean shorts walking on the streets of our city like this—they deserve to go to prison.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Why does this always revert back to the jean shorts?”

“It always has to do with jean shorts,” he snaps back matter-of-factly. “Any straight guy wearing jean shorts with that much goddamn confidence has done some wrong in their lives.”

“Right, but I’m pretty sure that the crimes he did are mainly the reason why he’s being prosecuted against.”

“Jean shorts are the windows to the soul.”

“I’m almost 100% sure that eyes are the windows to the soul, but whatever. If you genuinely believe that the women we met today would benefit our case, then… okay. Let’s bring them to the stand.”

On the contrary to you, Johnny doesn’t have a hard time convincing witnesses to testify. You see the way that he works; those kind eyes directed at the participants, the pools of chocolate were sweet, saturated in nothing but tenderness and warmth, then he does that weird thing where he reaches for their hands and cups them before the words that escapes from his lips are enough to swoon them to stand in front of a courtroom.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a method to his so-called madness.

Aggression and bluntness don’t work, it seems, because when you’re the one attempting to convince these people to go against the man that had done them wrong, they’re less willing to do it. Something about ‘moving on,’ and ‘not wanting to relive those memories again,’ but if it was you, you’d want justice. Then again, not everyone is like you, and not everyone thinks like you, and spending this abundance of time with Johnny is slowly getting you to ease into that perspective.

So… the initial impression you had of him may have been wrong.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re developing some feelings for him, just as Hyeri predicted.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

His abrupt personal question is enough to have the coffee spill into your mouth to slide down the ‘wrong throat’ because you’re choking, hand on your chest as you’re tackling to regain your breath again and Johnny only stares in disbelief, blinking blankly. “Are… are you okay?”

You glare at him through a hooded gaze. “Well,” you clear your throat once more. “Now, I am.”

“Cool.” He nods, retracting his hand so he could rub your back soothingly, deciding it’s best to stay away. “Are you going to answer my question?”

Quirking a brow, your head tilts slightly in puzzlement. “Why are you asking this?”

Johnny shrugs. “Isn’t it weird that we’ve hung out with each other for a whole week—stayed here for nights and we both don’t know anything about each other?”

Tapping your fingers against the wooden top table, you sigh. Maybe he’s got a point; after all, “Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer,” right?

“No, I’m single.”

Johnny’s face suddenly brightens, ears perked, and his body straightens its posture in his seat at this revelation. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know that. You seemed busy in your personal life, so I, uh… was just wondering.” He looked anxious, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. “I, um, I’m single too, by the way, in case you’re wondering.” You weren’t.

The plethora of cardboard and plastic boxes scattered across the table was a representation of the night. It’s been long, exhausting, and messy, mostly because it’s a Friday night, the hearing was on Monday, and the two of you were nowhere near close to having enough to present to the court. In fear of disappointing Seohyun, the two of you agreed to stay over the office for the weekend to cram work for the case. There’s no denying that the atmosphere is weirder on the weekends, especially since, well, no one really comes here on the weekends. Johnny had to use the bathroom earlier and ran into the cleaning lady and she nearly shit her pants because she didn’t think anyone was here, so she had music blasting in her headphones.

Johnny is… interesting. He makes you laugh—or well, want to laugh, but you don’t give him that sense of satisfaction—and he’s smart but in his own weird way. He’s not like the other lawyers you’ve met, or any of the law students you attended University with because he’s more lighthearted and free-spirited than the rest, taking life in strides instead of just overwhelming himself in the abundance of stress that work brings.

He’s entirely the opposite of you.

And maybe you could learn something from the guy, but there’s something in you that brews hatred toward him. Possibility that you resent how easy he makes being a lawyer seem when you’re struggling in your day-to-day life to make things work.

But it’s way too fucking hard when he’s just… like that.

Despite all of that, he’s very generous and kind toward you. On rough days, he delivers your coffee order, the one you always get because he remembers what you asked the intern to get for you the last time, and he’s good at identifying when you’re just having that kind of day. You eventually learn he has a photographic memory (fucking show off), so when he saw that crumpled napkin with scribbles of what you want in that dumb intern’s hand, it wasn’t hard to remember. Which, by the way, is how he’s able to get into the most prestigious school for undergrad, manage to pass the bar so easily, and get into law school effortlessly.

And knowing this information sort of angers you more.

You know this isn’t his fault—he’s been blessed with a trait that people desire, one that you also yearn for, but the lucky ones get handed a lot of things in life. You wonder if he’s the type of guy who wins girls easily after matching with them on dating sites because of this stupid ass ‘photographic memory.’ Does he sleep with them right after? Does it ever get serious?

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head. You shouldn’t even let these strange thoughts haunt you, especially when you don’t even like him.

He’s a spoiled brat who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter.

So you’re left counting the remaining days until the trial so you don’t ever have to work with Johnny Suh this closely again.

Okay, well, it’s evident that bad luck is glued to your side because after you win the Hwang v. Yoon case for your law firm with that asshole, Seohyun is so impressed. So goddamn impressed that she insists that all the high profile cases are to be given to both you and Johnny.

To work as a team.

Together.

Jesus, this is Hell for you.

Surely, the promotion and raise that came along with it was definitely a plus, but it has you wondering if it’s even worth it. He’s been your unspoken enemy since the first day, and although you think you’re pretty forthright about your hatred for this guy, he can’t seem to read social cues.

When you’re pushing the double doors into the conference room the two of you often spend working on cases in, you expect Johnny to be ready for another day. But strangely enough, Johnny doesn’t have his laptop out or any of the notebooks sprawled across the table.

“Um,” you slide the strap of your bag off your shoulder and onto the spare chair. “Did you come late or something?”

He takes in a deep breath like he’s been holding back something. “We need to talk.”

There’s worry inscribed into his features; from the crease in between his brows, to his pursed lips, and eyes soaked in concern, almost like he’s got bad news to share and it has your stomach in knots. Was it that the case was thrown out? It couldn’t be, right? You both worked hard, presented your stance to the point that the jury and the judge were in awe with your findings. Sure, you had to cover Johnny’s mouth right before he was about to go off in a tangent about jean shorts, but overall, it was a good win, a hard one to go back on and pull out the wrongs of it. So what was it?

“I’m quitting our partnership.”

You blink. “What?”

He gestures to the room with his hands as if there’s anything out to reference. “This thing. Our work. The big profile cases. The famous stuff. I told Seohyun that I won’t be doing it anymore and she can revoke the promotion and the raise.”

You’re still not catching on. “… Why?” Was it something you did? Yeah, you weren’t a big fan of Johnny either, but were you so bad that he decided to not go through with the raise because of you?

“Because,” he pushes his blazer back, hands sliding into the front pockets of his navy blue trousers. “There’s a policy put into place. Those who are on the same cases cannot have any personal relations with each other that extend past friendships.”

“We’re not even friends?” With confusion written across your face, your head tilts to the side. “I’m not… I’m not catching on here.”

“I like you.”

Startled, the words you want to say are stolen out of your mouth. You’re left with a mixture of perturbation and bewilderment, uncertain where to go from there because Johnny asked for the removal of both a promotion and additional money that could be so good for his career… and it’s all because he has a crush on you?

“You quit the best thing that could’ve happened to you because you like me?”

“Yeah,” Johnny states calmly, sucking in his cheeks for a brief moment. “Ain’t that romantic?”

You scoff. “No. Absolutely not. You’re insane! Why would you do yourself dirty like that? Use your head, Johnny, you’re constantly thinking with that stupid heart of yours, and hate to break it to you, but it won’t get you anywhere.” Combing your hair with your fingers, you let out a sigh. “Go ask Seohyun for the position back. Say you made a mistake and—”

“I’m not asking her for the position back.”

Johnny doesn’t make any sense to you. “What? Why wouldn’t you do that?

“Because,” he laughs in disbelief, not because he thinks you’re funny. “I’m not going to force myself to work with a girl that I keep falling for. That’s self-inflicting, you realize that, right? You’re amazing, but you can seriously be so dense sometimes.”

“I’m dense? You just told one of the best law firms in the city that you don’t want to work on the important cases anymore because you have a stupid crush on your partner!”

“If we were on a team with more people, maybe it’d be different. But it’s just us two. You think I won’t fall any harder? That’s not easy. Every time I see you working, I swear I could be hopelessly in love with you one day.”

Your heart stops for a second.

This is Johnny Suh you were talking about here. One of the claimed best lawyers in your office, one of the most intelligent people that Hyeri has ever met, and Seohyun evidently backs this up because she’s given him so much recognition for his work. He’s the guy who worked with you to win the Hwang v. Yoon case, he’s the one who brought up the stupid jean shorts that seemed so far-fetched at the time, but they were a crucial detail everyone missed—it so happened that when Changmin bought those dumb shorts, there was evidence of at least one of his crimes in that store from the security cameras.

Any cis-gendered male who wears jean shorts can’t be trusted, according to Johnny.

And candidly speaking? You couldn’t even deny that. Your past two ex-boyfriends both wore jean shorts and the one cheated on you and the other one was caught money laundering.

“Listen,” he begins, interrupting your foggy thoughts. “I’m not asking you to tell me you like me back. I’m telling you because you should know, and that I can’t go on any further without letting you know. I’ll, uh, be in my office. Seohyun said she’d find a replacement for me.”

Hyeri is his replacement.

She’s great company and does a good job of helping you with whatever you need, but that was just it. Hyeri followed you, she never led with you, just as Johnny does. Agreeing with everything you say, mindlessly trailing behind everything you do—Hyeri was smart, but she couldn’t figure out how to think for herself when it came to these bigger cases because she’s never been given such a responsibility. But you couldn’t even blame her because it’s what she was told to do under Gonghyun.

“You said that you think Maeri snatched the bracelet?”

“No, I said if you watched the security video that the jewelry store submitted, it clearly shows that Maeri snatched the bracelet. Not that I ‘think.’ The proof is right there, Hyeri.”

She nods, resuming back to her work on the computer. Truthfully, Hyeri felt more like an assistant than a co-worker, someone to bounce ideas off of and to see from a different perspective. And as much as you hated Johnny, he had decent points. He had ways of making you put yourself into the shoes of people you never thought you were; although the guy was obnoxious, at least he actually was… good at his job.

Deciding you can’t take it anymore when Hyeri asks for the tenth time that hour about your beliefs rather than her own, you abruptly stand from your seat.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” you reply shortly. “I’ll be back.”

It was just a spontaneous thought. It’s after hours, and although there are some people who stay behind to get some work done, you had your doubts that Johnny would still be here. He seems to have a better grip on that work/life balance thing people talked about (unlike yourself), but it didn’t hurt to check his office, right?

It’s a good thing you went with it. Because right across from yours, there’s Johnny.

There’s one single lamp that shines over the tabletop of his desk, and the other sources of light in his office are from his computer screen and the ones from the city skyline from behind him. It has him seemingly angelic like this, so serene, calm, and collected, only focused on what’s laid out in front of him. The sun has gone down, people have gone home, but Johnny remains, hardworking as always, despite your previous observations that he’s a lazy, unprofessional guy who gets everything handed down to him.

With a knock on his glass door, he flinches, head raising up and eyes meeting yours.

Were his eyes always this sparkly?

Opening the door, Johnny drops the pen in his hand and crosses his arms before leaning back in his seat. “What’s up?”

“You’re here late,” you state the obvious, and Johnny only nods in return, without a rebuttal in sight. “You aren’t normally here late. At least, before the Hwang v. Yoon case.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But Seohyun dropped something on my desk this morning. Wanted to work on it. What brings you here?”

Inhaling in a deep breath of courage, your hands bundle up into a fist by your side. “Please come back.”

Johnny raises a brow. “What?”

“Come back,” you reiterate, this time, it’s less tense and releases with ease. Caving in isn’t usually this effortless to you, but something about Johnny makes you feel… comfortable enough.“Come back and work with me again. Yes, I’m not supportive of how you do things—”

“Then let’s go out on a date.”

You freeze. Legs rooted into the floors of Johnny’s office, you’re left immobile and diffident on how to react next. It wasn’t what you were expecting, although you weren’t quite sure what you were hoping to anticipate, but it most definitely was not this.

“I—”

“I said my terms,” he retorts, shutting the book in front of him before shuffling up from his seat. He’s leaving, you realize, and Johnny’s ready to head home for the night and you’re not sure if you could handle an entire weekend with Hyeri here. “And, I meant what I said. One date, and if it really doesn’t work out, I’ll stay on the case.”

Chewing on your bottom lip anxiously, the next words that come out are out of character for you. “And… what if it does?”

A soft smile tugs from each corner of his mouth. “Then we’ll figure it out from there. Promise.”

This is… awkward. It shouldn’t be, but yet somehow, it remains awkward.

You’ve spent weeks with Johnny before, and those moments were in a room, in the middle of the night, and alone. Hours and hours were dedicated to work, yes, but it was just the two of you and nobody else.

So why is it so weird being in a five Michelin star restaurant with him?

Maybe it’s the atmosphere. The dim lights, the white clothed tables in lieu of the scratched up wooden one back at the law firm, and instead of leather seats, there’s a neutral beige chaise cushion for the dining chair, slightly less comfortable because it doesn’t recline like the one in your office. Instead of an array of photos and evidence disseminated in front of you, there’s a laminated menu with a multitude of options of what to have for dinner.

Johnny gets the steak with mashed potatoes and string beans, and you order something similar but seared salmon for the main protein. The waitress offers wine, babbling on about the age of the red, where the vineyard is located, and the dryness to sweetness—to be honest, you could care less; you’d rather have gin and sprite with a squirt of lime. A couple glasses of that and you can almost guarantee that the night would end with a deep slumber.

Oddly enough, Johnny seems nervous. Ever since he pulled up in his midnight black Audi in front of your apartment complex, he’s been acting strange. He keeps wiping his sweaty palms off the material of his trousers, occasionally swiping off the droplets that fall on the side of his face.

“Are you… okay?�� you suddenly ask, adjusting your dress in your seat. Deciding to go with a black silk dress with a slit up the leg and your hair let down, it’s not a look you often sport but since you’re going on a date (one you haven’t been on in quite some time), you figured it would be nice to at least play the part.

“I’m, uh, honestly, I’ve never really asked a girl out before.”

You quirk a brow curiously. “What? You’re telling me you never asked a girl out before?”

He lets out a bashful laugh with a faint nod, making an attempt to swallow his nerves after. “Honestly, I’ve always been asked out and not the other way around. Not to sound like that guy, but I never really had to put effort into trying for girls. They kind of just…”

“—Throw themselves at you?”

He beams. “Yeah! Like that. I don’t really know how to react half the time, but it makes the whole dating scene a little bit easier.” Geez, he called you dense, but he’s over here acting clueless.

Either way, it feels like whatever opinion you had about Johnny remained true. He never had to try when it came to the dating scene, and you could only imagine what that means for work and the relationships he has with the women in your career field.

“Mm, does that usually happen with work too?”

Befuddled, Johnny leans back in his chair. “What do you mean by that?”

With a shrug of your shoulders, you’re poking the meat of your salmon that falls off easily. After the first initial bite, the fish practically melts on impact when it touches the tip of your tongue, smooth like butter and bursting with flavor that couldn’t be described by any common person because it wouldn’t do the salmon justice. Johnny seemed to put a lot into this date, and you’re left pondering what the point of this was. Did he actually like you, or was he trying to get into your head? “Just seems like you get a lot of special treatment.”

“Are you jealous?”

“In what way?” you snap back.

“Are you jealous of me because I’m getting this so-called special treatment that you think I’ve always had, or were you jealous of the girls that seemingly got my attention?”

You’re left without anything to say.

It was a good observation he made because truthfully, you never saw it like that.

In actuality, you often saw Johnny as your rival. He climbed the ladder in the field with ease, and it wasn’t hard to quickly blame his success on the fact that he was a guy in a male dominated industry, but the fact that there’s a possible interpretation for your hatred may be from these feelings you might’ve been harboring for him this entire time… that can’t be it… right?

“I mean, look at where you are now,” you begin, trying to defend yourself. It can’t be true that the reason you’ve been bitter about Johnny was because of the girls that got his attention, and one of them not being you. “You got a high position from—”

“—From hard work,” Johnny interjects with his brows furrowed. “I didn’t get to where I was because I slept around, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I knew you sort of always hated me, but I’ve always admired you. I like your work ethic, I like your style, even though we’re both on opposite spectrums, I like the way you think and I wanted to know what it was like being partners with you. Getting to be on that case with you showed me more than just who you were as a lawyer, but who you were as a person. I like you, but I’m trying to put my finger on why you hate me so much.”

“So you noticed.” Sucking in your cheeks, your eyes trail elsewhere—from the fork that lays beside your plate, to the glass filled halfway with wine, to the little candle that sits in between the two of you that flickers the way he has your heart when he expresses once more how he feels about you.

“Yeah, of course I noticed. If you like someone, it’s kind to miss details like that about them. So… you really hated me because you thought I slept my way to the top, huh?”

“I mean…” shoulders dropping in exasperation, you run your fingers through your disheveled hair. “All those rumors—”

“Again, they’re just rumors. I worked hard to get here, you know. And I’m kind of offended that you thought of me that way.”

You scoff. “They’re rumors, Johnny, it’s kind of hard to ignore all the office gossip when that’s all you hear. Plus, it wasn’t hard to believe either, with the whole flirtatious act whenever you encounter anyone who’s breathing and has a vagina.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“You need a book for dummies that elaborates on what’s flirting or not, because Johnny Suh, whatever it is you do with your body language in front of that chick who sits by the front door.”

“You mean Siwoo? The pregnant one who’s married to her highschool sweetheart? Also, how do you not know our receptionist’s name?”

You throw your arms into the air. “How am I supposed to know her name?”

He tilts his head to the side, genuinely baffled. “Do you… not talk to anyone outside of Hyeri?”

Your silence answers his question.

“I… honestly, I don’t know if I should be offended or if I should be honored. You think I didn’t earn anything that I have now, you think that everything I have was handed to me. On one hand, it’s flattering that you think my looks and my bedroom skills could do that but at the same time… I’m offended because you think I’m incapable.”

“I never said you were incapable—”

“But you implied it.”

Hands falling onto your lap, it’s your turn to gulp. His words come shooting at you, but you’re without a shield to protect yourself, and with the new experience of working with Johnny, there comes the realization at times that Johnny is a hard worker. There are some things that he says and does that aren’t like the people you’ve encountered, and being put on new cases with Hyeri only proved it. He’s thoughtful in the sense that whenever you’d bring up your stance on something, he challenges you with what the defense might counter.

Johnny makes you want to be better. Not just against him, but to brush off the dust on your skills and enter into the battlefield of a courtroom to showcase them.

“Well, if you’re staying silent, I just want to say that I tried,” the crinkle in between your brows makes another appearance because Johnny is great at leaving you stunned and confused. “I really like you. I love how your head works, and I wanna be with someone like that but I also can’t be with someone who doesn’t respect me.”

Why is it that when you’re in that conference room with him, you’re not afraid and never running out of things to say, but now you’re empty handed?

“I’ll pay for dinner. Grab you an Uber. I honestly thought I could overlook those things, and maybe your perspective for me has changed, but I could see it on your face. It’s the same.”

After that date with Johnny, his life turns back to normal.

Yours? Not so much.

Candidly speaking, part of you missed working with Johnny. You were wrong about him, so wrong, and even when you wanted to apologize at the dinner for what you thought of him, the pride in you was like a vicious plague that blackened your insides, preventing you from ever saying those words.

Oftentimes, you’d still be able to sneak a glimpse of him in his office with that same look on his face—full of concentration and nothing else in his mind other than the task at hand.

The cases you have with Hyeri entail a head like Johnny’s. Someone who could question you, to protest against your stance when there could be flaws in it. It feels like deja vu each time you think about it, each time you open a new case file and Hyeri sits there, perched in that seat beside yours, eyes sparkling with what you have in mind next, instead of what she has going on in hers.

Although you’ve tried convincing yourself that maybe, just maybe, what you feel for Johnny is purely professional but when you see him standing by the water cooler with a couple of your coworkers, eyes mimicking the moon crescents in the skies, replicating the ways his lips curl in elation—it was beginning hard to believe that it was all platonic feelings.

So maybe you should be bold for once. Pull off that exterior that displays you as someone who isn’t just independent and assiduous, but someone who’s stubborn and aggressive in getting what they want—and not in a good way.

This time, you’ll show it in a good way.

Or at least, you’ll try.

Johnny is a routine kind-of-guy—he grabs an iced americano every morning at the coffee shop downstairs at the edge of the street, he does his daily 11:00AM drop-by at the water cooler to refill his Hydroflask (which was his prized possession, by the way), and parked in the same exact spot in the parking garage of your building, despite there being an abundance of places he could choose.

That’s why you decide to stand by his car after work that day. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands shaking because it’s your turn to feel anxious. That blazer that once fit so comfortably in the morning suddenly feels tight and hot in the afternoon, and the weather hasn’t even changed. Your bag slung over your shoulder weighs ten times heavier than an hour ago, and you can’t stop your jaw from tightening.

Before your thoughts could spiral off all the possibilities of what the outcome may be when you tell Johnny how you feel, he’s already standing there, feet away from you with that dip in the fronts of his brows that you want to smoothen out the crinkles of with the pad of your thumb.

“Hi,” you greet, faint and peculiarly different from your other approaches. “Um, I just… was waiting for you.”

“Hey,” Johnny says back, the first few buttons of his shirt already unraveled, his blazer hung over his forearm and the sleeves are rolled up. “I see that. What’s up with you?”

“Um,” your leg was jittery, hard to control so you spat everything you had to say out as fast as you could before he could see right through you. “I just wanted to apologize. For everything. You’re admirable, kind, and I wish I inhabited those same characteristics you have. I think professionally, you’ve got great ideas, one that could be implemented into mine and what we did together for that case was just… yeah. We could do something big if we put our heads together.”

Johnny nods in agreement. The relationship between you two work-wise was obvious, he knew that much. “And what about… outside of that?”

“I like you,” you choked, barely getting the words out. “More than just coworkers, um, I guess, more than friends but I’m not really sure since you walked out on our first date,” inhaling in a deep breath of courage, you continue on, “and I don’t know how you feel now after I’m standing before you like this, asking for another chance and that I’m sorry.”

He stares at you blankly, and it leaves you unsure whether or not he accepts your apology. “You know why we ended that date early.”

“Well,” you start again, “can we… start over and try again? I promise I won’t tempt you to end the date early this time.”

And with that, there’s the signature smile that Johnny sports that swoons girls, makes their knees weak, and heart clench but this time… it’s just for you.

“I’d really like that.”