#and he's also two-timing me. I just know he goes to someone else's perch to fluff up at night. I just know it!

[lxvvie]

it scared the shit out of me the first time I saw it but I have the cutest little wren birb roosting on a perch on my apartment balcony. d'aww.

[writesvani]

dear me | 09

lawyer! jungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: sexual tension, emotional tension, alcohol consumption, conflicted feelings for a taken friend, stage anxiety, performance stress, emotional repression, romantic confusion, angst, unresolved feelings, subtle jealousy, explicit language

comment HERE for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter

wc: 6,6k // date: 13th of May 2025

CHAPTER NINE — PLAY IT AGAIN happy reading my gummies...

AN: hey guys, it’s been 2 weeks without “dear me,” but we’re so back, baby. anyways, writing this chapter was really hard for me. like, REALLY hard. i’ve been stuck in a writer's block pit and i swear, i kept deleting and rewriting scenes (i’m pretty sure this chapter has like 8 versions in my drafts, don’t even ask). BUT i’ve finally settled with this one, so here we are.

now, time to meet some new characters. what do we think of them, huh? yay or nay? also, i gave you SO MANY easter eggs in this chapter. like, half of it is just foreshadowing or clearly hinting at something and i’m LOWKEY excited to see your comments and asks about it.

anyways, goal for this chapter is 450 because i KNOW we can hit it and also because i like having a bit more time to finish chapters. so yeah, let’s do this. love you guys, now go read and tell me everything you think.

It’s kind of ridiculous, honestly—the way Jeon Jungkook blends into a room and owns it at the same time. Like some kind of paradox. Earlier today, he looked like he belonged to the sunlight—the warm kind, the kind that makes old bookstores feel like home. Curled into his booth with an espresso and that soft, quiet stare. He looked small. Touchable.

But now?

Now he looks like a warning sign. Shoulders squared, head tilted like he knows something you don’t, lips curved in that maddening smirk of his. The neon lights of The House flicker against his sharp jaw, casting shadows that feel deliberate. Calculated. Dangerous.

You’re following behind him, mildly regretting the decision to show up early. It’s barely 9 p.m. and the place is already humming—bands tuning up, neon signs buzzing, and Alex... perched on a bar stool like he owns the air.

You’re going to need a drink. Immediately.

Jungkook walks up like it’s his goddamn stage. Alex looks up, face splitting into a grin.

“Well, shit,” he says, tossing his pen aside. “Didn’t think you’d actually show, big boy.”

Jungkook shrugs, already half in a chair. “I don’t back out of dares.”

You glance at the paper Alex was scribbling on and let out a half-laugh. “Are you—are you seriously doing sudoku right now?”

Alex deadpans, “Gotta keep the brain sharp, sweetheart.”

You snort. “You’re so full of it. You not working tonight?”

“Please. I’m off-duty. I came to get drunk and take Jungkook’s money.”

“You wish,” Jungkook mutters, grinning. “So who’s behind the bar?” he asks.

Alex leans back dramatically. “New guy. But he’s decent. You might know him—same age as you two.”

You raise a brow. “Then just say his name? What is this cryptic scavenger hunt?”

“I’m setting the vibe,” Alex says. “Anyway, name’s Park Jimin.”

You blink. Jungkook goes still for half a second.

Park. Fucking. Jimin.

This is exactly why you hate small towns.

This is why you should’ve stayed away. Should’ve packed up your life, lit a match to the past, and never looked back. Because small towns come with reunions you never asked for. The kind that smell like stale beer, too-loud music, and people who were never villains—just unnecessary plot twists you never wanted to reread.

So when Park Jimin strolls out from the back closet door of The House—the one they keep the good booze in because the bar’s too damn small—you already feel your molars grinding.

You don’t hate him. But God, does his presence itch.

“Well, well,” he says, slipping a bottle of Belvedere into the fridge. His eyes lock on yours, glittering with the same mischief that used to make you roll yours in high school. “Familiar faces just follow me, huh?”

You exhale sharply through your nose. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He grins like it’s personal. “Missed me much?”

“Yeah. Like a rash.”

“Oof. Still bitter about prom?”

“I’m not bitter about prom.”

“You totally are.” He leans on the bar like he’s settling in. “Sorry again for dumping you right before, though. Heard you had to go with Yoongi. Brutal.”

“Hey, hey, hey—” Alex interrupts next to you, throwing a hand in the air. “Don’t slander my boy Yoongs like that. That man is class.”

Jimin ignores him. Of course he does.

“Thought your bestie would take you,” he adds, eyes still on you, “but I guess his girlfriend matched his aesthetic better.”

The blood in your ears roars. You open your mouth, but Jungkook beats you to it.

“What’s your problem?” he says, voice low and sharp. The tension in his jaw could crack diamonds.

Jimin looks at him for the first time. Smirks. “Relax, bro. I’m just messing with my ex. No harm done.”

You’re about to fire back when he adds, casual as hell, “Heard you got engaged to your high school sweetheart though. Congrats, man. Seriously.”

And just like that, the air goes from hot to hostile. Your throat tightens.

This motherfucker always knew where to cut.

Jungkook’s expression falters for a moment. You catch it—just the twitch of his jaw, the flicker behind his eyes. You think he might say something—thank him, tell him off, maybe even laugh it off.

Instead, he shifts.

His face evens out into that lazy, cool disinterest he wears so well. Like nothing ever touches him.

“One Jack Daniels,” he says, tone smooth, eyes bored. “Two cubes of ice. And for my friend—” he gestures toward you without even looking, “One Long Island Iced Tea. Add extra lemon juice and, uh, don’t be shy with the tequila.”

Jimin blinks. “What?”

Jungkook shrugs, rolling his shoulders like he’s stretching before a fight. “That’s our order. You do still make drinks, right? Or are you just here to be irrelevant all over again?”

You almost choke on a laugh. Almost.

Jimin wets his lips, and for a moment you see the flicker of something crack behind his eyes. But he recovers. Plasters on that wide, gleaming smile—the one you used to fall for. The one you now recognize as plastic.

“Of course,” he says, voice all sugar and sawdust. “Coming right up.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzes against the bar top. You glance over just as the screen lights up — Nina. Of course. She and Yoongi are supposed to be showing up any minute now.

When Jungkook had called her earlier to tell her about the bet with Alex — how he was playing drums tonight — she was thrilled. Or, well, "ecstatic," in his words. You weren’t on speaker, so you couldn’t hear her exact reaction. But you can imagine it. Sweet and supportive and all the things you know Nina to be.

He’d invited her immediately, of course. And she’d dragged Yoongi into the plan too — not that you minded. You might’ve casually begged Yoongi to show up so you wouldn’t have to third-wheel your way through the night like some tragic side character.

Jungkook picks up his phone with a low grunt, muttering, “She’s gonna call me in like, two seconds.”

You nod as he stands, watching his silhouette disappear toward the front door.

Alex elbows you, hard. “So… what I’m gathering here is, Jimin is your ex?”

You sigh. “Wow. Incredible deduction, detective. Really cracked the case there.”

He snorts. “So he’s that ex? The one who bailed on you before prom?”

You shoot him a look. “What gave it away, the tension in the room or the mild death wish I had five minutes ago?”

Alex grins. “You’re such a bitch.”

“Jimin brings it out in me.”

“Sure, blame the man.”

“I am blaming the man,” you say, then pause, brow furrowing. “He’s just… irritating.”

“He was acting weird with Jungkook though. And Yoongi too, back when he was mentioned. What's his deal with them?”

You shrug. “Honestly? No clue. Even when I dated him, he’d pretend they didn’t exist in public. It was weird then, and it’s still weird now.”

Alex hums, nursing his drink. “Damn, I thought he’s cool. He gives me bad vibes now.”

“You give me bad vibes.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with me,” he grins.

“Sooo… love,” Jimin drawls, and you know — you just know — he’s talking to you.

You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to stay facing Alex, but his voice is like a needle in your spine. When you glance over, he’s not even trying to hide the smug look on his face. He’s pouring white rum into a shaker like it’s the most casual thing in the world, the glint in his eyes almost daring you to respond.

You roll your eyes. God, he’s insufferable. Always was. Still, you can’t lie — black hair, pretty lips, annoyingly symmetrical face… Park Jimin has no right still looking that good.

Not that you’d ever say it aloud. Your friends would kill you on the spot.

“What?” you snap.

He shrugs. “Nothing. Just wanted to see if you’d still turn when I call you love.”

“You’re fucked in the head.”

He grins, unbothered. “You know whose head I also fucked?”

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Peak comedy. Is there a two-drink minimum for this set or what?”

“No joke. Just facts.”

“Yeah, okay, we had sex. Ages ago. You want a medal?”

He leans in slightly. “Didn’t think the first time was that forgettable.”

“It only means something if the person means something,” you say coolly.

That hits. His smile slips just a bit — before morphing into something darker.

“Then maybe you should’ve picked one of your friends. Wonder who would’ve been more desperate—gloom-and-doom Yoongi or Mr. Marrying-The-Preppy-Girl.”

You tense. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

He just shrugs again, shaking the cocktail like nothing’s wrong. “Touchy.”

“I don’t know what your problem is with them—hell, with me—but you’re acting like a damn parasite.”

“I don’t have a problem with you,” he says easily, pouring the drink. “You’re not pathetic. They are. I’m just trying to open your eyes.”

“Dude,” Alex hisses, his tone sharp, “I get there's history here, but you really need to back off. She’s a customer.”

Jimin doesn’t even flinch, still focused on mixing the drinks with practiced ease. “I get it, I do,” he smirks, eyes flicking to you. “But she knows exactly what I’m talking about. She knows why we broke up, after all.”

You clench your jaw, fighting the urge to snap. “Jimin, drop it. It was a high school breakup. Seriously, who cares? I got over it in two weeks.”

He leans in slightly, that dangerous edge to his smile. “You ever think I might’ve been right?”

“No,” you reply coldly, voice tight. “Because you weren’t.”

Jimin’s smile widens, but it’s all sharp edges now. “Sure, love. Whatever helps you keep your little fairytale. I’ll drop it—for now.” He slides the drink toward you, his gaze lingering just a second too long.

When Jungkook walks back into The House, the change in him is immediate. Whatever easy charm he left with is gone — replaced by stormy eyes and a jaw so tight you’re afraid he might crack a bone or two. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, a tell you’ve come to recognize: something went wrong.

“Took you long enough,” Jimin taunts, just as Jungkook drops into the seat next to you without a word. It’s not his usual controlled fall — it’s heavy, careless.

“Your ice melted,” Jimin adds, gesturing toward the untouched whiskey glass, voice dipped in mock concern.

Jungkook barely glances at it. “Right. Shame,” he mutters.

Alex leans forward slightly, brow creasing. “Everything cool, man?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Peachy. Don’t worry about it.”

But you do. You worry the second you see the way his knuckles whiten as he grips the edge of the bar. You want to ask, but his expression shuts that down. Whatever it is, it’s not meant for public display.

So you shift gears. “When are Nina and Yoongi getting here?”

“Nina’s not coming,” he says flatly, not even looking at you.

“What?” That doesn’t make sense. She was practically bouncing off the walls earlier, excited to watch him drum again, or at least that’s what Jungkook said.

“She’s… feeling under the weather.”

A cold excuse. Paper thin.

You blink. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” he says, then adds, too casually, “Just not in the mood to go out.”

Something’s off. Way off.

“And Yoongi?”

“He’ll be here later,” Jungkook says, voice tightening as he rubs the back of his neck — another tell.

Then, of course, Jimin can’t help himself.

“Damn,” he drawls, grinning like the devil. “Your little fiancée bailed on your big night?”

Jungkook flinches.

It’s subtle, but it’s there — a flicker of pain behind the guarded eyes.

“Jimin,” you hiss, eyes flashing as you shoot him a death glare. “Enough.”

But he’s already walking off, smug and self-satisfied, whistling like he didn’t just stick a knife into something raw.

And Jungkook?

He doesn’t say a word.

He just stares straight ahead.

A few awkward minutes pass — the silence only interrupted by the distant sound of opening bands testing mics and tuning guitars. No one dares break the uneasy stillness. Alex is hunched over a sudoku, casually sipping his beer like it’s any other night. Jungkook nurses his half-melted whiskey, the kind of lukewarm drink that probably tastes like piss by now. Even Jimin’s gone quiet, absent of any snark, polishing glasses with the focus of someone who knows he went too far.

You stare blankly at your phone, Instagram Reels flickering past without meaning. You couldn’t name a single thing you’ve watched.

Because all you can feel is him.

The tension radiating off Jungkook is impossible to ignore — like he’s one sharp breath away from detonating. But instead, he just… sits there. Bottled up. Unmoving. Unwell.

“Kook,” you whisper, soft enough that only he hears. “What happened?”

He exhales through his nose. “Nothing, really. I don’t wanna dump shit on you.”

“C’mon.” You bump your shoulder gently against his. “Spill.”

He hesitates. Then, quietly: “Nina just thinks… since I’m working tomorrow, I shouldn’t be out tonight.”

You frown. That doesn’t sound like Nina. Not from what you know.

“And?” you ask.

“And she thinks… this is an unnecessary distraction.”

You blink. “This as in what?”

“As in me drumming tonight.”

Your eyebrows knit tighter. “A distraction from what?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “I don’t get it either. She just said she needs sleep and can’t make it.”

You let that settle for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Kook. But… wasn’t she excited earlier? Like, really excited?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice thinning. “But… something changed. I don’t know what. She just—changed her mind.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Kook,” you say gently, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. “She’s probably just annoyed about something and taking it out on you. It’ll pass. It usually does, right?”

“Yeah… probably,” he mutters. “I just thought she’d come. I haven’t played in forever. Kinda wanted her here, that’s all.”

“I get it,” you nod. Wanted her here. It shouldn’t hit the way it does, but it does. You take a sip of your drink, trying to shake it off. “But hey—Yoongi’s coming. Alex is here. I’m here.”

He glances at you, manages a small smile. It looks practiced, not real. “At least I’ll have a chill crowd when I completely bomb.”

“You wish,” you nudge him. “If you bomb, I’ll be the first one to laugh in your face.”

“You’re all heart,” he says with a light chuckle, and it feels better—easier—than anything he’s said since he walked in.

“Hey!” Jimin suddenly appears in front of you both like he’s been summoned by drama. “Not everyone here’s so supportive. I’ve got front-row seats to his downfall.”

Jungkook laughs for real this time. “Yeah, well, good thing I never valued your opinion.”

“That’s rude.”

“That’s accurate.”

You roll your eyes, pointing at Jimin. “Alright, enough out of you. Go make us another round. Alex too. And fine, you can pour yourself something if it’ll keep you from eavesdropping.”

Jimin clutches his chest like you just proposed. “Wow. Buying me a drink now? And here I thought you were over me.”

You smirk. “Don’t push your luck. I’m just trying to keep the vibe from completely crashing.”

Jimin gives you a playful salute and walks off. And for the first time in what feels like forever, Jungkook’s shoulders drop a little. He still looks sad, but at least now he doesn’t look like he’s gonna snap in half.

When Jimin slides your drinks over, Alex actually wheezes — like, full-on wheezes — before his face turns red with excitement. “As soon as I get Jungkook’s money,” he adds dramatically, “you’re the first one I’m buying one for.”

“You could just split the money with me,” you reply, smirking over your glass.

Next to you, Jungkook groans and slumps forward, burying his face in his hands. “I swear to god, I’m gonna die. I’m not even gonna be good. I haven’t done this in so long.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex waves him off. “Spare us the dramatics, Kook. The kids you’ll be playing with should be here any minute.”

“The kids I’ll be—what?”

“Well, yeah,” Alex shrugs. “You’re playing drums, right? No offense, man, but I don’t think the crowd’s dying for a solo drum recital. You need a full sound. Guitar, bass, maybe even keys. You know how these things go.”

Jungkook stares at him, horrified. “Oh my god. I didn’t even think about that. Who am I playing with?”

“That band I told you about this morning, remember?” Alex says casually.

“Wait—don’t they already have a drummer?”

“Yeah, they do,” Alex grins. “But I talked to Jack. Asked if he’d let you jump in for a song, and he said sure. Super chill guy.”

Jungkook rubs his forehead with both hands, muttering something under his breath. You can't tell if it’s relief or panic—or both.

“Hey,” you nudge him gently, “you’ll be fine. You could probably play in your sleep.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll have to,” he mutters, then downs the rest of his drink.

The door of The House creaks open, and like a domino effect, all four of you—Alex, Jungkook, even Jimin, and you—snap your heads toward it, expecting to finally see the teenage band roll in.

But no. Not even close.

Instead, it’s Yoongi. He steps inside in a massive black hoodie and matching sweatpants, a bandana pushing his hair off his forehead. He pauses when he sees all your eyes locked on him, confusion already creeping into his features.

“What?” he frowns. “Did I miss it? You already played, man?”

You let out a small laugh.

“Nah, not yet.” Jungkook gestures toward the bar. “Keep the whiskey flowing.”

Jimin groans under his breath, clearly annoyed—by Jungkook’s request, by Yoongi’s sudden presence, by existence in general.

Yoongi raises a brow as he takes the seat next to Alex. “Did all of you just... stare at me when I walked in?”

“Sorry, man,” Alex chuckles. “We thought the band Kook’s playing with showed up.”

“The high schoolers?” Yoongi asks, settling in.

“Yeah,” you say. “I mentioned them earlier when we texted.”

Yoongi hums. “Heard they’re good. Can I get a dirty martini?” His voice is calm until his eyes meet Jimin’s.

He stiffens. Jimin rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they stay in his head.

“Why the hell not,” Jimin mutters, stomping off to make the drink.

Yoongi watches him walk away, his jaw tightening.

“What are you doing here?” he calls after him.

“Working. Thought that was obvious,” Jimin bites back, slamming the finished martini in front of him with no ceremony.

Yoongi goes quiet. You and Jungkook exchange a subtle glance.

You lean toward Yoongi, voice low. “Okay, I knew you two weren’t exactly besties, but this feels like next-level passive-aggressive.”

“He deserves it,” Yoongi grits out.

You blink. “Sure, but… I wasn’t expecting you to be more pissed than I am to see him.”

“He’s just—” Yoongi exhales, “annoying.”

“That’s something even I agree with,” Jungkook mutters, sipping his drink.

“What are you even wearing, dude?” Jimin asks, eyeing Yoongi’s oversized hoodie and sweats like they’re a disgrace to the earth. “Who the hell comes to a club dressed like that?”

Yoongi doesn’t even flinch. “Me.”

Jimin scoffs, dramatic as ever. “Right. Is that because you’re, what—edgy? Quirky? Too cool to try?”

“No,” Yoongi says flatly. “It’s because this place isn’t a club, it’s practically a dive bar, and I literally grew up here. But hey—props to you for trying so hard. Must be tough being the new guy.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, jaw twitching just slightly. “Cute. Did you rehearse that one in the mirror or does it just come naturally when you’re being a dick?”

Yoongi smirks, unbothered. “Naturally. But thanks for noticing.”

“Well, everyone’s getting along just great,” Alex mutters, lips pressed tight around the rim of his beer.

“I’m just glad someone finally matches Jimin’s talent for being a pain in the ass,” Jungkook says, spinning one of his rings absentmindedly with his thumb.

Your eyes drift to his hands. Just for a second. Just because they’re moving. But then you really look. His fingers—long, slender, tanned just enough—move with ease, like they know how to pull attention. His skin looks soft, but there’s something sharp in the way his knuckles flex. Something wicked. Something you shouldn’t be noticing.

Your stomach twists.

You blink, hard, like that'll reset your brain.

Jungkook is your friend. Your best friend. Engaged to your other friend. This isn’t supposed to be happening. You’re not supposed to be looking at his hands like this.

And worse—worse than anything—Jimin saw it. Of course he fucking did. You hear his quiet, condescending chuckle, and a wave of shame burns through your cheeks.

“Nice rings, Jungkook,” Jimin says, too casually. His eyes never leave Jungkook’s face, but you can feel the smirk meant for you. “They really suit your fingers.”

Jungkook frowns, caught off guard. “Uh… thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” Jimin replies smoothly, already turning on his heel as someone calls his name from across the bar.

You watch him go, teeth clenched.

Fuck you, Park Jimin.

You’d almost been grateful for his silence. But no—he just had to say something.

Finally—finally—after what feels like an eternity and three Long Islands too deep, the door creaks open and in stumble four high schoolers, breathless, disheveled, and looking like they lost half their souls on the way here.

Alex shoots up with a dramatic yell. “Here they come. My children.”

“Fucking hell, Mina, I told you we’d be late,” the tall brunette groans, dragging a black gig bag over his shoulder as he wipes sweat off his brow.

“Chill, dude. We’re not late—we’re on at eleven,” the girl—who you assume is Mina (probably because she’s the only girl)—retorts, hoisting a keyboard bag like it’s a sack of bricks but somehow not tripping over it.

“Can you two not? Just tonight, please?” the third kid huffs, his pale skin glowing under the lights, striking blue eyes shooting them both a glare.

Trailing quietly behind them is the fourth member—carrying only a pair of drumsticks. That’s Jack. Definitely Jack. His shoulders are hunched, cheeks tinged pink as he scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the chaos in front of him.

“Hey, Alex,” the blue-eyed boy says, grinning as he high-fives the older man.

“Yo, Dan. What’s up.”

“Sorry we’re late, bro. Mina took two hours doing her eyeliner.”

“Ha! See!” the brunette jumps in. “I’m not the only one who thought it was excessive.”

“It’s called getting ready,” Mina snaps, turning on him. “Sorry I wasn’t born a man so I could just throw on a clean shirt and be socially acceptable. It’s not my fault people expect women to look like magazine covers.”

“Why do you turn everything into feminist propaganda?” Ace mutters, and you can’t help the smirk that tugs at your lips.

“I’m not. I’m just stating facts.”

They’re so deep into their bickering that they don’t even notice the rest of you at the bar—except for Jack and Dan, who gravitate toward Alex like they're clinging to stability.

“So, this is JK, guys,” Alex says, nodding toward Jungkook.

That shuts everyone up.

“The Jeon Jungkook?” the brunette—Ace, you think—says, eyes wide, posture straightening in an instant.

You nudge Jungkook’s shoulder. “Uhm, wow, Jungkook. Didn’t know I was in the presence of royalty.”

Jungkook laughs under his breath. “Uh… yeah?” He glances at Ace, unsure.

Mina squeals—an actual, honest-to-god squeal. Dan flushes bright red. And Jack stammers, “Whoa. You’re kind of a legend around here. Total honor to meet you, sir.”

“Please don’t call me sir,” Jungkook says, flustered. “I’m not that old. And—legend?”

“Yeah, bro—I mean, sir—I mean Jungkook,” Jack stammers. “Everyone knows about you. I can’t believe I’m letting you borrow my sticks tonight.”

“Thanks for the sticks in advance, Jack,” Jungkook says, his cheeks tinged pink—part whiskey, part unexpected attention. “But I’m just gonna warn you—I might disappoint you guys.”

“No way,” Jack fires back instantly.

“Not a chance,” Mina adds, shaking her head.

Jungkook laughs, easing into their energy. He falls into effortless banter with the kids, talking about their setlist, throwing out ideas, asking their opinions on which song he should play.

You don’t interrupt. You just watch him.

He finally looks relaxed, like the tension in his shoulders has melted off without anyone noticing. His face is lit up with a soft smile, his hands moving as he animatedly explains why Smells Like Teen Spirit should absolutely make the list. The kids groan dramatically, arguing that while it’s a classic, it’s way too basic for a comeback gig after ten years.

“It’s a banger!” Jungkook insists, brows raised.

“And that’s the problem!” Ace argues. “We want iconic, not expected.”

Yoongi, from his seat nearby, chimes in lazily, “Nirvana is iconic. Can’t be basic if it’s legendary.”

Mina turns to him, eyes sharp but playful. “With all due respect, Sir—we need something more iconic.”

“How is that song not the 'most' iconic?” Yoongi repeats, deadpan.

“It is,” Mina sighs, “but we need like—iconic with a twist.”

You laugh, quietly. The whole exchange is ridiculous but so full of life. Your gaze finds its way back to Jungkook—still laughing, still animated, bangs falling in his eyes, youth catching the edge of his expression.

You’re not sure what it is—the presence of the kids, the memory of what The House used to mean, or just the anticipation of playing again—but something about him tonight feels different. No—familiar.

He looks alive.

He looks like himself.

So you lean into it. You let yourself feel it. Let yourself miss him in the way that hurts but also heals.

Because this… this version of him—the one glowing with purpose and ease—this is the version you’ve missed the most.

“Don’t you guys want to drop off your instruments and have a drink?” Jimin asks from behind the bar, voice light, expression even lighter.

You stiffen, blinking twice. Park Jimin… smiling? And not the condescending, I-know-something-you-don’t smile, but a real one. It’s disorienting—like waking up in a parallel universe. For a second, you brace yourself for a backhanded comment, a jab hidden behind sugar-coated words.

But it never comes.

He actually looks like he likes the kids.

“Uh, yeah—we totally forgot,” Daniel says, still a little breathless as he adjusts the strap on his shoulder.

“Give us a sec, JK,” Ace calls over his shoulder, clapping Jungkook’s arm before the four teenagers vanish backstage, a trail of youthful energy and secondhand adrenaline left in their wake.

The bar quiets just enough for a breath to settle.

“Are you excited?” you ask, leaning closer to Jungkook.

His gaze lingers on the now-empty hallway where the kids disappeared. His features are soft, loose, almost vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen in years.

“Actually… yeah. I am,” he admits, lips parting in surprise at his own words. “I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just the kids—”

“The tasteless kids,” Yoongi deadpans, slumped in his chair like a tired philosopher. “How the hell does that girl say there’s something more iconic than Nirvana?”

Alex raises his beer solemnly. “Blasphemy. Absolute blasphemy.”

Jungkook just rolls his eyes, used to their noise. “Anyway,” he says, “like I was saying… I think I’m genuinely looking forward to playing.”

The words hang in the air for a second too long, warm and raw. And before you even realize it, your hand is in his hair, ruffling the soft strands. His cheeks flush—alcohol or affection, you can’t tell.

“Aw, look at my bestie getting all giddy,” you tease, trying to sound casual, but something inside you aches at how happy he looks. “Seriously, Kook, that’s fucking amazing. Now I can’t wait to see you up there.”

“Don’t be too excited,” he laughs, brushing a hand over his face. “There’s still a good chance I shit my pants from nerves.”

“Wasn’t your whole goal to fail?” Yoongi asks, blinking like he’s doing mental math. “So you don’t have to give Alex the money?”

Alex waves a dismissive hand, the gold ring on his pinky flashing under the low amber lights. “No one ever plays to fail. Not in music, not in life. I, my friend, am simply operating within the mystical corridors of Jungkook’s subconscious. Planting seeds. Psychological warfare.”

“You, my friend,” you shoot back, “are drunk.”

“Maybe,” Alex replies, tipping his beer with a grin that says definitely.

“You so are,” Jungkook adds, eyes glinting.

Alex leans closer, mock-sincere. “Don’t worry. I’ll still be sober enough to take my money when you owe it to me.”

There’s laughter again, warm and alive, and for a moment you forget the heaviness. Forget the time. Forget the past. Because Jungkook is here, sitting next to you, eyes sparkling, stomach twisting with nerves in the most beautiful, human way.

And for the first time in a long while—he wants to be seen.

The kids return in a pack—energy buzzing around them like static, cheeks flushed from the excitement and maybe just a bit of nerves. They spill into the empty bar stools like they own the place, all happy—the kind that comes with knowing tonight matters.

Ace claps his hands together, flops onto a stool, and shouts toward the bar, “Alright, Jimin! Hit me with a Coca-Cola—I’m fucking thirsty!”

Jimin, unfazed, quirks an eyebrow. “Watch your mouth, rockstar,” he says, already reaching for the glasses.

The others chime in, each echoing Ace’s order like it’s part of a ritual. Coke all around.

“When are you guys on?” you ask casually, turning to Mina as she sips from her drink. Her eyes are bright beneath the dim bar lights, and you blink. Damn, her eyeliner’s sharp enough to kill. It makes her look fierce. Electric.

“In about twenty minutes,” she says, voice calm, a soft smile curving her lips like she’s done this a thousand times before. “Jk’s opening on drums—Jack takes over after he finishes the first song.”

You nod, picturing it. Jungkook behind the kit again. The lights. The sound. The pulse of something being reborn.

“Oi, Mina!” Daniel calls from the other end of the bar, half-lounging over his stool. “Quit flirting with Jungkook’s bestie and finish your drink—we’re up soon!”

Mina groans and rolls her eyes, but her grin gives her away. “I’m not flirting,” she mutters as she raises her glass. “I’m being polite.”

You smirk, and she clinks her glass against yours anyway.

There’s a hum in the air now. Something about the way the kids shift in their seats, glance at the clock, tap their fingers to an invisible beat. A collective breath held, waiting to be released the moment they step on stage.

And through it all, Jungkook’s knee bounces beneath the table, his fingers twitching like they already hear the opening riff in his head.

The bar dims a little more, lights overhead shifting to a deep red hue. A hush rolls through the room—not complete silence, but that charged pause just before something erupts. The kind of silence that makes your skin prickle.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Mina says, swinging her keyboard bag over her shoulder as she hops off the stool. The others follow, a quiet intensity settling over their faces like masks. The joking, the teasing, the sugary buzz of Coca-Cola—all of it vanishes in the electric stillness of the pre-show moment.

Jungkook gets up too, a small crease between his brows, lips pressed together in a thin line. You nudge his arm gently as he passes by.

“You’ve got this, bestie,” you whisper.

He glances back at you. A smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes—those big, dark eyes—are filled with something you haven’t seen in a while.

Fear.

But also: fire.

He doesn’t say anything. Just nods.

On stage, Jack claps him on the shoulder before handing him the sticks. The kids do a final check—Mina tapping her keys, Dan tuning his bass, Ace slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder. The room starts to buzz again, people murmuring, turning toward the stage, phones raised. Someone yells out a “WOOO!” and Alex, leaning against the side wall, grins like a proud dad.

Mina steps up to the mic. “Hey guys,” she says, her voice steady. “We’re The Strangers, and tonight… we’re doing something a little old school.” She glances at Jungkook. “Featuring a local legend.”

There’s light applause, a couple surprised whistles.

And then—Jungkook lifts the sticks.

He taps the hi-hat four times. It begins.

But then.

Crash.

The beat stumbles. His right hand slips, hitting the rim instead of the snare. The rhythm trips over itself, chaotic and jarring. Ace freezes mid-riff. Mina slams her palm on the keys too early. Dan completely misses the bass cue.

A mess. A beautiful, terrible mess.

A few people in the crowd gasp. One laughs. You wince.

Jungkook, mortified, pauses for half a second—half a second that feels like a lifetime—before whispering, “Shit,” under his breath.

Jack starts to step forward, like he’s ready to take over immediately.

But Jungkook throws up a hand.

“No,” he mutters to the mic, half to himself, half to the crowd. “I got it.”

And this time—he counts again. One, two, three, four—

This time, it hits. Hard. Toxicity intro comes alive—feral, gritty, raw. Ace slams into the opening riff with vengeance, Mina’s synths howling underneath, Dan’s bass like thunder rumbling through the floor. And Jungkook—Jungkook comes back. You can see it in his shoulders, in the way his hair whips around his face. There’s rage and release in every strike of the snare, redemption in the crash cymbals.

The crowd erupts.

Jungkook plays like he’s possessed now, blood rushing, all hesitation gone. His whole body moves with the rhythm, with the madness of it. His face glistens with sweat. He grins—really grins—like he’s high on the beat.

And you? You can’t look away.

This, this is the Jungkook you remember.

A little off at first. But once he finds the groove—

He becomes it.

The crowd is losing their minds.

Phones are raised, heads are banging, and even Jimin—cool, collected, snarky Jimin—is nodding behind the bar with an impressed smirk. Ace and Dan are completely synced, locking in their parts with the kind of chaotic grace that makes you feel like the song might fall apart at any moment, but never does. Mina’s eyes are closed, fingers dancing across the keys, mouth moving along to lyrics.

And Jungkook—

God.

His hair sticks to his forehead in messy strands, and there’s a flush creeping down his neck, veins flexing on his forearms every time he slams into the snare. He looks like he’s burning up—like every part of him is charged. The black t-shirt he’s wearing is soaked down the back, clinging to him like a second skin, and when he tilts his head back in rhythm, biting his lip and closing his eyes—

You feel it.

In your chest. In your throat.

Oh God.

You shouldn’t be thinking this. He’s your best friend. He’s taken. He’s Jungkook. But you’re human and he’s—he’s just so magnetic up there. Confident. Wild. Beautiful.

It rattles something in you.

You look away for a second, shaking your head as if that’ll snap you out of it. But then you hear the bridge hit—Mina’s synths wailing, Ace’s guitar almost screaming—and you glance back.

He’s looking at you.

Just for a second.

Not long enough for anyone else to notice. But long enough for you to feel your heartbeat quicken like it’s trying to keep up with the tempo of his drums.

Long enough to wonder if he knows what he’s doing to you.

And then, just as quickly, it’s over.

The final notes ring out, loud and proud, and Jungkook hammers the crash cymbals like punctuation marks. The sound reverberates through the bar, into your ribs, your skin. Everyone’s screaming and clapping and whistling. Alex is on his feet, yelling something you can’t even hear. Jimin throws a towel toward the stage.

But you?

You’re frozen.

Emotion crashes into you like a wave—unexpected, heavy, cold. It’s not about attraction anymore. It’s not even about the performance. It’s the moment. The way Jungkook looked up, eyes shining, chest heaving, smiling like he hadn’t smiled in years.

It’s the way he came back to life in front of you.

And you realize, achingly, that this is what you’ve missed all along.

Not the friendship. Not the ease. Not the safety.

You missed him. That version of him. The one who lets himself feel joy without guilt. The one who belongs somewhere.

And for some reason, that breaks your heart.

Because he’s not yours to keep.

Not really.

Jungkook jumps off the stage like he’s weightless, flushed and glowing, his chest heaving as if he’s just run a marathon and won. The crowd still buzzes with leftover energy, but he’s already moving toward you—wild-eyed and breathless.

Before you can react, he wraps you in a hug, tight and full-bodied, arms locking around you like you’re the one anchoring him to the ground. You barely have time to think before you’re melting into it, laughing as your arms wind around his back.

“Holy shit,” he gasps into your ear, voice cracking with joy. “Did you see that? I didn’t tank it! I came back! I actually pulled it off!”

“You did, Kook, you killed it out there.”

He pulls back just enough to grab your face between both hands, calloused palms cradling your cheeks. His eyes are shining—shining—with something raw and real and so reminiscent of the boy he used to be, your chest squeezes tight.

“I thought I was gonna choke after that first beat,” he breathes, grin splitting his face. “But then I looked at the kids. And I looked at you. And it felt like I was supposed to be right there.”

Your heart stutters. “You looked like yourself up there.”

His expression shifts—just for a moment—and then his forehead drops to yours.

The contact is light. Barely there.

But it crackles.

It’s intimate and fleeting and charged, his breath brushing your lips, and your entire body locks up. You should move. You should really move. But you don’t. Neither does he.

You both just breathe.

And in that breath, something slips.

Not love.

Not lust.

But something terrifyingly in between.

“I should do this more often,” he murmurs, still forehead-to-forehead with you, eyes fluttering shut for half a second. “Feel like this.”

You don’t know what to say. You don’t want to say anything that might break the moment. That might remind either of you that he’s not yours to lean into like this. Never was.

But then the room reminds you for you.

A cheer goes up. Someone shouts his name. Laughter rings out.

And when he opens his eyes and sees how close you are, the spell breaks.

He steps back, a breath catching like it hurts. His hands fall slowly from your face as if letting go costs something.

You say nothing.

Neither does he.

Instead, you both turn—wordlessly—and slide onto the barstools beside each other.

Jungkook drums his fingers against the wood, still jittery with leftover adrenaline, while you pretend to focus on the drink Jimin sets in front of you.

Your shoulder brushes his.

He doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

But the silence between you is deafening.

Your chest feels too tight. Your throat too full.

And for a second—just a second—you wonder what would’ve happened if you told him everything when you were younger.

You wonder what it would feel like if it were you he could come back to.

But you don’t ask.

And he doesn’t offer.

So you both just sit there—shoulder to shoulder, forehead memory still warm—and pretend nothing happened at all.

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @santiiagopopegarcia @jadaocon1 @asyr97 @gukieater @themwordsblog @whatevevrerr @amarawayne @tititania @guwol @reallygenerouskoala @bgfdcvbnjk @kyljjk @whoa-jo @taekritimin123 @minimoninini @upo1313 @polnaraffsrack @tatzzz-25 @orphicepiphany @coletaehyung @bjoriis @epiphany-n @kimyishin @eegyo @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @parkinglot-nights @mar-lo-pap @evrsncenewyork @jjeonjjk7 @minghaosimp @cerulean1riz @anumita-2007 @vantelover1306 @vynmin @nadzzzblog @jnghs @lachimolalajeon @joonwater @choijay-07 @notsevenwithyou @mononoaware16 @sky-23s-world @auroresce @sadgirlroo @arcadiaem @kokoandkookie @nakyra2 @kissyfacekoo @butterymin

[revelboo]

Not that I think either of them would actually be caught dead at a sex bar, but if we're throwing out Ideal Dream Sandwiches ™️, IronHide x reader x Hound is mine and I've never seen it anywhere else so here's me shooting my shot 🫣

Sure, I can make it work! 🔞 Mass displaced mechs 🌶️

Interludes Pt 7

Hound x Reader x Ironhide

• Optics wandering the crowd, Ironhide vents as he spots two Seekers trying to coax a human into the back, recognizing Skywarp and Thundercracker and his servos flex against the tabletop. Because this is all so much scrap. None of the Decepticons should be free, they should be locked up, some of them even smelted for what they’ve done. But Optimus made that call, not him. Knows it’s wrong to feel that way, to feel betrayed, but he can’t help it. Because the Cons? They don’t deserve to be happy.

• Spark aching as Ironhide throws back his engex, Hound vents and surveys the little humans. Feels so out of place here, looking for a third. A little human mate and he knows that’s the point of this place, a safe space for willing Cybertronians and humans to mingle in the hopes of finding a partner. Repopulating. But as he sees Thunderclash haul a human up against his frame while they wrap their legs around his waist and laugh, he feels out of place. Because a lot of them are just wild, celebrating the peace no matter how tenuous it is. And the humans are more than willing, flirting to try and get some attention. Sees a flash of biolights and grimaces as Hoist and Streetwise wade into the dancers to reprimand someone trying to frag on the floor and not even a klik later, Tarantulas and Waspinator are headed to the bar for a room token with a giggling human in tow. “I just thought, with the war over, we could start over,” he mutters and Ironhide sets his glass down.

• Sparklings. Knows Hound wants sparklings. Jaw working, Ironhide nods like the idea doesn’t frighten him. Like he’s not sure he’s too old for this. “Anyone catch your optic?” He growls, sinking lower in his chair. Not even sure he wants a human mate. That he wants to share Hound, but can’t deny him either. Seen the way he looks at hybrid sparklings every time they see a Cybertronian with one. To give Hound what he wants, they need a willing human. Pushing up to his peds when Hound doesn’t answer, he scans the crowd. And reaches out when a human walks past with a bright pink drink with bits of fruit in it. And you stare up at him with wide eyes, lips parted and he had no idea what to say to you.

• Staring at the huge hand on your arm then up at the Cybertronian’s face, your heart goes racing. Because you’d come here for the thrill of it. Convinced yourself you’d drag a mech into the back and be able to say you fucked an alien. And you’ve not had the courage to actually talk to any of them. Looking from him to his buddy as the red one pulls his hand back like you burned him, like he’s nervous, you get a little courage. Because if they’re also intimidated? You don’t feel like such a chicken. “You alone, darlin?’” He asks, deep voice thrumming through you. And the green one reaches out a big hand, wanting to shake hands apparently.

• Warming when you let him do your people’s ritual greeting, he’s a little off balance by how small your hand is in his. “I’m Hound. This is Ironhide,” he says and you offer him an uncertain smile. You’re lingering, though. And isn’t the whole point of this to test out compatibility? To find a match? “I, we, thought you might want to test our compatibility?” What is he even supposed to say? Your face gets redder as you snort like he’s funny. But he can’t make himself just say ‘hey, want to get a room?’ Watches those eyes flick from him to Hide. Before you inhale and sit on Ironhide’s thigh.

• Freezing as you perch yourself on his thigh, wiggling like you can’t get comfortable and he realizes you aren’t wearing anything under that loose scrap of cloth you’re wearing. Eyes amused as you look up at him, like you know you’re slicking his thigh and when he vents, he can scent you. “I’m game,” you say, reaching and grabbing his wrist and he stares helplessly at Hound as you drape his hand between your spread thighs. And the other mech covers his mouth, struggling not to laugh as he glares. Risking a glance at see where Hoist and Streetwise got off to, he brushes a servo against you and you make a noise that goes straight to his spike. Because if you’re going to be a brat, he’s going to punish you.

• Breath hitching as he pets you and you have to flip your skirt up over his hand, Hound has his hand over his mouth, smiling and trying not to start laughing as you lift up slightly to avoid those warm servos. And that’s a mistake, gasping as he spears one inside you and curls it. Rocking yourself against his palm, your face heats hoping no one else notices you’re riding his hand. “You’re a slick little thing, aren’t ya darlin?’” Ironhide growls in your ear as your breath quickens. Are you really about to climax in the middle of the club? Apparently as he vents against your neck and Hound shifts his chair slightly so he’s behind you. “Good for you?” He asks and you don’t know if he’s talking to you or Hound, but you startle when Hound puts a knee on Ironhide’s chair between his thighs and leans in so you’re trapped between them both. ‘Yes,’ Hound growls, straddling Ironhide’s thigh behind you and you feel his heated frame against your back as his hand slides down to join Ironhide’s. Feel him press a second servo inside you and you’re gasping as you come apart, feeling Hound moving against you and your hand lands on Ironhide for balance, hearing the mech groan as the plating shifts under your palm and his spike pushes free, biolights thrumming.

• “Want his spike?” Hound asks, and you look back at him face flushed. Almost misses your little please among the music and noise. Does hear your little noise as he pins you against Ironhide, hips rocking against you as the other mech groans and you don’t resist when he lifts you enough to take Hide. Shifting at your back as your head falls back against him, it’s hard to care about anything beyond the way the other mech is growling as you move against him, riding his spike. And he can’t stop moving against you, mimicking your rhythm. Doesn’t even realize he’s freed his own spike until he hears Hoist swearing at them all to ‘get a fragging room.’ Rocking his spike against your soft skin as he laughs, he hears Ironhide groan as he overloads inside you.

• Hearing Hound laughing as he slides off of his thigh, Ironhide feels younger than he’s felt in decades. Hears you groan and hide your face against him and watching the other mech trying to hide away his still hard spike, Ironhide, gently swats your thigh. “Best hang on.” And your legs wrap around him as he stands, spike still inside you, aware that humans and Cybertronians are staring and that you’re dripping all over him, cupping your butt, he starts for a room, seeing Blurr vaulting over the bar to hurriedly unlock it since everyone is getting a show. Starts laughing as Hound shuts the door behind them all and he sits on the berth. “Sorry about that, darlin.’”

• Mortified and turned on and even more mortified that you’re turned on, you feel Hound’s hand slide up your spine. “I’m so sorry,” he says. Hopefully no one recorded that, because you’ll never live it down. But you don’t regret it. Face hot, you sit up on Ironhide, feeling his spike still buried inside you. ‘Make it up to me,’ you demand and Ironhide smiles crookedly. Helping lift you off his spike and his buddy cups your face in his hands, surprising you when he tries to kiss you and you lean away to fall back on the berth beside Ironhide. “We will,” Hound promises, easing down to his knees and dragging you closer to the edge. And you arch when he puts his mouth on you. Seeing Ironhide fist his spike, stroking himself as Hound’s mouth slides against you.

Previous

Next

[starryhyuck]

be there for me. (m) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

pairing: roommate!jaehyun x afab!reader

words: 6k+

summary: when you catch your roommate fucking someone else, you’re determined to be the last girl in his bed at the end of the day.

genre: smut

warnings: jaehyun fucks someone else briefly, voyeurism, bigdick!jaehyun, degradation, blowjob, possessive!jaehyun, fingering, daddy kink, choking, creampie

this fic is exclusive to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here! below is a tumblr preview

When you finally wake, you’re huddled underneath the warm blankets piled on top of one another. You yawn, satisfied with your rest before checking your phone to see more apology texts from Sooyoung. You sigh and assure her that you’re not upset, and you can reschedule your hangout for another time.

You’re evidently parched from your long catnap, wrapping a blanket over your shoulders and tiptoeing towards the kitchen. You’re certain Jaehyun’s tucked in bed, and you should probably let him know in the morning about your cancelled trip.

Your mind goes blank, however, when you pass by his room and hear the unmistakable sound of a girl moaning.

Your eyes widen, stopping in your tracks to assure yourself you heard it correctly. His door is open just a sliver, exposing two bodies tangled on top of his sheets. It’s wrong and you’re well aware of it, but you peep inside, swallowing when you see Jaehyun’s frame towering over this poor girl.

His hips are ramming solidly into hers, grunting lowly as he wraps a hand around her throat. His raspy voice mutters, “You love it when I fuck you like a whore, hm?”

Oh fuck. You should leave. You should probably crash at Doyoung’s for the weekend and act as if you went on your skiing trip. But somehow your feet stay rooted in place, watching your well-behaved roommate pound roughly into this stranger.

“Please, please,” the girl whines, scratching down his back.

“Yeah? You’re going to cum? You’re that desperate, hm? I’ve barely done anything to you.”

In your time of knowing him, you’ve never even heard a swear leave Jaehyun’s lips. The man you believed to be the perfect gentleman is nothing like the man you see now, who spits out degrading insults and rolls his hips so expertly that you swear you can feel it in your stomach too.

The girl underneath him spasms, whimpering as her nails dig into his biceps. He pulls out, replacing his cock with his fingers and thrusting into her pussy until you can hear how wet she really is. He leans down to lick a stripe up her cunt, and you can identify the markings of his dimples from here.

“Delicious,” he says, chuckling to himself.

The single word is enough to have you running back to your room with your tail tucked between your legs. You quietly shut the door, gasping for breath as you perch on the edge of your bed. The images of your roommate flash across your mind, and you close your eyes, pushing away the guilt building in your throat to lean back and trail your fingers towards your core.

You slowly pump into your cunt as the moans continue to drift through the wall. Jaehyun’s voice is clearer than ever, and you bite down on the back of your hand to conceal your mewls.

“Are you going to cum for me again? Show me how much you need me?”

Your back arches off the bed as you flick your wrist faster, picturing them as Jaehyun’s instead.

“My big cock is too much for you, hm? Listen to this poor pussy, she can’t even take it.”

You grab your pillow, sinking your teeth into the fabric as you gush around your digits. Your roommate’s low grunts fill your ears, also reaching his peak as you hear the girl sucking him off.

You lay in your sweat, panting as you register what you’ve just done.

You’re so fucked.

want to read the rest? access the $5 tier on my patreon here!

[reixtsu]

Oh, How I Hate You - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Worst Proposal Ever

Gojo x bi reader | fake dating au, college au, modern au

The first time Gojo Satoru asked you out, you nearly choked on your coffee.

Before you ask, it wasn't because you were swooning for him, goodness no. You almost choked because the very idea of dating Gojo felt like some kind of sick cosmic joke.

"You want me to... what?" you sputtered, eyes narrowed as you set your drink down on the table with a little too much force.

Gojo simply grinned, completely unbothered. He was sprawled out in the chair across from you, his long legs stretched out like he owned the entire cafe. His round blind glasses were perched on his stupidly perfect nose, his white hair in the usual mess of a pompom.

"Be my girlfriend," he repeated like it was the simplest thing in the world."For three weeks. No big deal."

You stared at him. Then you blinked. What in the actual hell was this... man... saying? Then you burst out laughing.

Gojo frowned. "That wasn't the reaction I was expecting."

"I'm sorry," you gasped between laughs, wiping a stray tear from the corner of your eye. "It's just-do you hear yourself? You, out of all people, want to date me? Are you feeling okay because that is the most ridiculous thing I've heard this month?"

"Perfectly fine," he said, crossing his arms behind his head. "Come on, you're cute, I'm hot, we'd make a power couple."

Who just goes up to someone and asks to date them when you barely even know them? Apparently Gojo would.

"That sounds awful," you said bluntly, tapping a finger on the table.

"You wound me."

You rolled your eyes, already bored by the conversation. "Let's pretend that I haven't already rejected you with my mind, why would you need a fake girlfriend? Can't you simply ask any girl from your fanbase?"

You weren't teasing him. It was a simple fact that he had a fanbase within and off campus. What kind of frat-playboy needs to ask the popular 'lesbian' out when he simply needs to flash a smile at literally anyone else?

"I mean, yeah. But this time it's a bet with Suguru. Besides, it's boring to be admired all the time, you know?" Egotistical bitch.

Suguru Geto, Satoru Gojo's best friend and right hand man in causing chaos. If Gojo was fired, then Geto was the gasoline that kept things going. Combined societies fell.

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you took a long sip of your iced coffee. "A bet? Seriously?"

Gojo leaned in, dropping his voice down an octave so that only you could hear him. "Suguru thinks I can't stay in a committed relationship for longer than two weeks. Bullshit, isn't it?" You snorted. "So now, I just need a super cool, ultra hot girlfriend to prove him wrong."

You blinked. "So... Eye candy."

"Sure."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"That's fair," Gojo shrugs. "But it's also where you come in."

You scoffed, crossing your legs as you gazed at the man in front of you with an air of indifference. "Why would I help you win a stupid bet?"

"Because it'll be fun," he said, grinning. "You get to be spoiled by yours truly, make Suguru suffer, and maybe even have some fun messing with me."

You tilted your head, considering her options. Say no and walk away, continue to be bored with life, or go along with the chaos. Annoying Gojo seemed fun anyways. Still, fake dating Gojo sounds like a one-way ticket to madness.

You sighed. What a terrible idea.

"Three weeks," you said slowly, holding up your fingers. "No weird flirting, no actual kissing," you mentally gagged. "and no 'Gojo bullshit'."

Gojo's grin widened. "Define 'Gojo bullshit'."

"Everything you do, obviously."

"Rude," he scoffed, chuckling as he stuck out a pinky. "Deal?"

You hesitated, then you hooked your pinky finger with his long one. "Deal."

And just like that, you became Gojo Satoru's fake girlfriend. It was going to be a nightmare.

---

There were three simple rules of fake dating:

1. You will not actually fall for Gojo.

2. You will not let him get on your nerves (you were already failing at that).

3. You will not-under any circumstances-kiss him.

Easy, right?

Right?

Wrong.

The first problem arose almost immediately when you realized that Gojo was fully committed to selling this whole "relationship" thing.

By the time you showed up to your History of Sorcery the next day, half the class was whispering about how Gojo Satoru was officially off the market.

You had barely made it to your seat before your friend Shoko Ieri dropped into the seat next to you, eyes narrowing.

"Alright, spill," she said, arms crossed, ready for the interrogation of her life. "What's this between you and Gojo?"

You groaned, sinking into your chair. "It's nothing, really. Just a dumb bet."

"With ?"

"Obviously."

Shoko snorted. "That explains a lot."

Before you could even give her a sarcastic response, your phone buzzed. A message from Gojo.

Great.

Gojo: Morning, princess!

You made a face and typed back.

You: Ew, never call me that again.

Gojo: Aww, babe, you wound me.

You: I'm blocking you.

Gojo didn't reply, but five minutes later, he walked into class with a venti caramel macchiato, your favorite, and set it on your desk with a dramatic flourish.

"Morning, angel," he said, voice dripping in amusement as he sat next to the empty seat on the other side of you. How annoying.

You glared at him. "What are you doing?"

"Being a good boyfriend," he said, innocently, giving you his signature smirk that every girl except you would fall for.

Shoko watched the exchange with an almost unreadable expression before shaking her head in surrender. "Good luck, dear. This is going to be a disaster."

You sighed. Yeah, you already knew.

Taglist: @longt0es, @elitesanjisimp, @thedreamlessnights

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 26

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

”You can do what now?” Xaden nearly yells after getting over his shock.

I can mind speak. I say confidently in his head, causing him to jump back a bit, earning chuckles from Liam and Garrick.

I had spent the afternoon practicing on them. Jumping between their minds with ease, as if already second nature to me. All I had to do was focus on them and it seemed my mind connected with theirs. Only proven by how easily I had reached out and done the same to Xaden. I was also quite proud of the name I had given the ability. Direct and explained it perfectly.

”Does Carr know?” He demands as he starts to pace.

I shake my head. “No, this happened after I left. He only seemed intent on seeing if my signet blocked out other mental signets. And I can now safely say Dain’s signet did not work on me at all. And that was without me trying to put a shield up. But that doesn’t mean its not something he knows about. Seems there are tomes that have spoken of my ability somewhere.”

Xaden looks as if he breathes a sigh of relief. I would have said it was in regards to my mind being safe from Dain, but I can feel something else fuelling his relief. But what that was, I wasn’t sure. With how much he had going on I had no doubt there was others higher up with signets I was now safe from.

”I assume you tried to put a shield up?” Bodhi asks from where he is perched up against some stacked fighting mats.

I smirk and nod. “I did, sent Aetos jumping back from me as if I had electrocuted him. Was quite satisfying actually.”

”Well that is something at least. Now we just have to be careful of ourselves around Dain. Sadly our shields will not work against his like yours has.” Xaden states as he stops his pacing and stands next to Bodhi.

”I take it you’ve tried?” I ask him.

Xaden nods. “Not myself, but we have tested the theory with other cadets with stronger shields. He gets right through them like a knife through butter. So the fact he could barely make a dent in yours without even trying just goes to show how strong yours are.”

”You said Carr mentioned tomes about your signet. He let slip what they were at all?” Garrick asks from where he sits next to me, arm draped over my shoulders as I sit tucked into his sides.

I shake my head. “Sadly no. But least we know there are some. As well as fairy tales and stories of it. It’s a starting point.”

The others nod in agreement. The slip of that information, intentional or not was at least a starting point. One that had me thinking of where to start. And I knew exactly where to start. And none of these guys would be overly keen on my suggestion. But I had a feeling we could trust her. With time and how closer her and Xaden we’re getting despite him saying other wise, she could be a great asset.

”And I might have a suggestion on where we can start.” The others all turning to look at me.

”Why do I feel like we aren’t going to like your suggestion sweetheart?” Garrick drawls from next to me.

I look up at him and smirk. “Because you wont. Not entirely anyway.”

”Spit it out then. Where do we have to look?” Imogen asks.

I turn and look at Xaden, his eyes widening as if already knowing my answer.

”Not where. Who. And who better than my brothers new partner in crime for life. Violet Sorrengail.”

Xaden had not been thrilled by suggestion, but had agreed she was our best bet once we could verify she wouldn’t go tell someone about my signet. Though as I had pointed out, there was a very high chance she knew about Dain’s and as far as I knew hadn’t told anyone about it, even with how distant they had become while she had been here. He promised once he was sure my signet was safe, he would approach her about it. But only him.

”Aetos did not want to let you two go did he?” Garrick muses as we walk up to the flight field.

Garrick and Xaden had come to grab Violet and I for some training. Not that I needed it, but I took the excuse to get out of classes for a little bit. Aetos had put Garrick and Xaden through the wringer to let us go. Mainly Violet who was yet to manifest a signet. Claiming she needed Carr’s class more than anyone. But as Xaden had countered she wasn’t going to manifest a signet suddenly in Carr’s class and had proven she had the strongest shield in our year. I did not miss how Dain’s eyes flickered to me at that comment. He knew mine were significantly stronger that Violets. But it wasn’t public knowledge. Violet had proven she had mastered the basics and Xaden had dragged her out before he could say no. He had tried to fight it with me saying signet needed training. But as I pointed out I had a classified signet and was not allowed to fully show it off in classes. And with that I had turned and walked out, a snickering Garrick not far behind me. Which now lead to us heading down to the flight field to catch up with Xaden and Violet who definitely had a head start with only having to go to the first year doors three levels down. Due to Garrick insisting I move my stuff, we had to go all the way up to the third floor.

”No he didn’t. He’s just worried we wont win squad games. He is hell bent on winning it.” I inform Garrick as we push through the doors into the rotunda.

”You guys will be fine. Between you and Liam you should have the combat challenges and that hands down. Sadly I can’t speak about the other aspects.” The way he speaks, I know he knows what is coming. Wing leaders and section leaders knew everything to do with squad games as they didn’t take part as they didn’t technically belong to a squad.

”Don’t get any privileges, from being your kind of girlfriend?” I tease as we approach the stairs.

Garrick smirks and goes to respond, but his face goes blank as he pulls us both to a stop, his arm going in front of my protectively. I follow his gaze and watch as Colonel Aetos, General Sorrengail and Pancheck approach us.

”We’re getting the grand welcome today it seems.” Muses Colonel Aetos as they stop in front of us. My guess is they had encountered Xaden and Violet on their way up. “And I finally get to meet Fen Riorson’s daughter. Well know you by your actual name now. It still amazes me you hid her for long General, none of us had a clue who she really was.”

Colonel Aetos’s eyes look behind Garrick and I, and I know instantly who stands behind us. That familiar, black unhinged presence at the edge of my mind. Garrick going stiff as he angles his head ever so slightly to see who stands behind us. The muscle in his jaw twitching, eyes darting between the group in front of us and the General behind.

”Trust me Colonel, was no easy feat keeping who she was a secret from you. Surprised you believed me so easily when I introduced her as my niece.” Melgren drawls from behind us.

”Helps when she barely looks like her father and brother. And if I recall, not much like the women Fen called his wife for a short period of time either.” A small smirk on the Colonel’s face.

”Must have taken after some distant relatives.” I say sternly.

He just chuckles. “Some very distant relatives it seems. Well don’t let us hold you up cadets.”

And with that they walk past us, but I don’t miss the feeling of their eyes on us as they walk away. Mainly Melgren and Aetos, who as I turn my head catch looking directly at me. Clearly I was also on someone else’s radar, but for other reasons entirely. Part 27

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey @mxtokko @krowiathemythologynerd @callsign-blue @1islessthan3books

[sentientcave]

And They Were Roommates

Part 2!

Sooner than I thought I'd get it done, but I ended up with more time today than I thought. It's moving day! This one goes out to the two people who read this so far (ilu), and also the dream of affordable rent and friendly, walkable neighbourhoods.

Part 1 Here

Fem!SoapxFemReader

~2.6k

Alcohol mention, SFW

MDNI - 18+ Blog even if this is you know, pretty tame at the moment

Your apartment is on the third floor of a walk-up, with a little balcony off the living room, and a decently sized kitchen. The rooms aren’t too small either, and your landlord has never cared about you putting holes in the walls or painting, only that you’re quiet and you have not once been late paying the rent. She lives on the first floor, and you have a sort of pleasant, neighbourly relationship with her. It’s easy enough to like a landlord that doesn’t raise your rent arbitrarily or drag their feet on repairs, but Leslie’s also a handsome, handy butch, and her wife, Amelia, is a wispy artist, and you’ve always been on the cusp of wanting to be properly friendly. You let her know before you head off to work that you have a new roommate moving in today, and that there would be a bit of noise in the afternoon.

“Oh, you found someone? Good. You want them on the lease?” she asks.

“I don’t think she wants to be. She’s just giving me cash so I can pay it. Is that alright?”

Leslie nods. “Sure is, honey. Thanks for letting me know. Oh, and I want to do a check on the radiators before the cold weather hits— Shouldn’t need into your apartment, but the pipes’ll be clanging something awful. It’s supposed to be cold and rainy Monday, so I’ll turn on the heat, and you can text me if your rads don’t warm up.”

“Alright. Thanks Leslie.”

She laughed. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re just saving me paperwork and a trip up the stairs. I’ll be standing by this afternoon if you need the door taken off the hinges to get any furniture through.”

You head off to work, humming to yourself. There’s time to stop for a take out coffee too, something you’d been denying yourself for the last few weeks to conserve money, and the barista gives you an extra shot of espresso, just because she missed seeing you.

God, you would have hated moving away. This neighbourhood has been good to you, and starting over somewhere else would have been hard. You recognize most of the faces around you, and often get a smile or a nod when you pass by, or even a good morning from a few. It feels like being part of a community. You unlock the door to the shop, and you don’t bother locking it behind you while you quickly get things set up.

The bell above the door jingles just as you’re about to go and flip the sign. “You know, you should really keep that locked when you’re not open,” John says. He’s an irregular regular, the sort of customer you see every few days for a couple weeks and then not at all for months at a time. You like him— He’s always polite, and he always takes your recommendations seriously, and comes back to tell you what he thinks. He’s older, but in a non-distinct way where he could be anywhere from 30 to 45. The muttonchops kind of make it hard to tell.

“A customer coming in a minute or two ahead of time is not terribly concerning to me, John. And the shop is open, I just haven’t flipped the sign yet.” You do so, and dust your hands together, like you’ve just accomplished some great feat.

“What if I wasn’t a customer?”

“What, like a robber? I’d give them the money from the till and then ring up the cops so they can stand around and be useless a while.”

His stern expression cracks into a smile, the crows feet around his eyes deepening. “Alright, fair enough.”

“You’re here early. Usually don’t see you until lunch hour. Got a busy day ahead?” You absently straighten a pile of books on the table by the door before you return to your perch behind the counter to sip your coffee.

“Yeah. Helping one of my sergeants move this afternoon. Someplace in the neighbourhood, but you’ll be closed long before we finish.”

You hadn’t realized he was military, but now it seems obvious. He’s got that straight-backed, keen-eyed look to him that could belong to few other professions. “Oh, are you Jamie’s captain?” you ask, connecting the dots. It's too close to be a coincidence.

He raises his eyebrows. “You’re her new flatmate?”

“Yeah! Ha, I guess you’ll get to see how I live. Always weird when a customer crosses the threshold of familiarity.”

“Didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

“We don’t— Not yet, anyway. I’ve had an ad out for over a month, she’s the first person who’s responded that I think I could actually live with. You would not believe the number of guys who responded thinking that a picture of their dick counted as a reference.”

“Did Jamie give you references?”

“Yes, her old landlord, her LT and her Captain— Guess that’s you. But I met Ghost last night, and I didn’t really think I needed to call the other numbers after meeting Jamie.” You shrug. “Although looking back on it, I guess getting a vibe check from a giant in a balaclava is maybe not the most legitimate reference I could have received.”

“You ever think you might be too trusting?” John asked, leaning against the counter. He didn’t have a tendency to use his size to intimidate, but he was looming over you now, giving you a stern glare that you’re sure his newer recruits have nightmares about. You’re not intimidated though. You’re too familiar with him by now to be worried. He’s just got this protective, almost fatherly streak to him, and a bit of paranoia that makes more sense now that you know it’s coming from his military background.

“Have you ever thought that you might not be trusting enough?” you ask sweetly. “Not to sound trite, but I’ve found that when you approach things with an open mind and heart, things work out. But maybe I’ve just been lucky.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t been eaten alive,” John grumbles, moving away from the counter, shaking his head.

You just shake your head too, picking up your phone so you can text Jamie.

I met your captain!! Well I already knew him but I didn’t know he was your captain

The response comes in almost instantly

UR BOOKSTORE GRIL<

GIRL<

NO FOCKIN WAY<

???

caps got a crush on ye. dirty old man >:( <

Dinny wry kitty ill fight im 4 u<

You hear John’s phone ding. He glances at the screen and laughs, and then looks over at you. “Jamie just told me to square up.”

“Wouldn’t be fair. I bet she fights dirty,” you tell him. “Is that why you call her Soap?”

He laughs again, his broad shoulders shaking. “No, but it might as well be.”

John buys a couple of old westerns and heads out soon after, leaving you to putter around the shop. You get a few customers through, though not many. Fridays are never very busy. Saturday and Sunday are always the busiest days of the week, and the days that the little book shop is open the longest. From what you've gathered, Bruce, the owner, makes most of the money to keep the place going by renting out studio space upstairs. The second floor is a wide open room, and the third floor a maze of little studios. There's a bulletin board behind your counter with all the workshops and events listed. Bruce lives at the other end of the first floor, and you rarely see him. The bookstore was something for his wife, who had gotten bored and moved on to pottery, and then glass blowing, and was currently occupying a studio upstairs and writing a novel. Sometimes she asked you to read chapters of it, and you had to come up with polite ways to tell her that she needed to put a lot more work in that wouldn’t get your ass fired.

Jamie texts you updates on the move, mostly complaints about how she didn’t think she’d need so many boxes, she didn’t think she had that much stuff, as well as a picture of her reclining on a couch while Gaz and Ghost lift it into the air, with the caption RIDES HERE that you receive just as you’re locking up the store.

They gonna carry you the whole way here?

no :( LT said im 2 heavy <

rude fucker <

You should reconsider your no killing in your spare time policy Just this once

ur rite. <

only after ahm dun mvoing tho<

hes useful 2 me yet<

You giggle and stow your phone back in your pocket, picking up your pace so you'd have time to do a quick, last minute clean of the apartment and shut Red Herring in your room so he doesn’t make a run for freedom while the doors are open.

He never listens when you tell him he doesn’t have what it takes to make it out there alone.

You happen to glance out the window when a pickup truck pulls up in front of the building. John and Gaz climb out. It’s a smaller model, and the couch from the picture is strapped sideways across the short-box bed with a pile of boxes stacked neatly underneath. A blue sports car pulls up behind it, and Ghost unfolds himself from the passenger side while Jamie throws her door open and hops out of the driver’s side. You head downstairs to meet them at the front door.

As soon as she sees you, Soap runs over and throws her arms around your waist, picking you up bodily and swinging you around, like she’s a soldier returning from the war and you the long suffering wife awaiting her return back home. You shriek with laughter and hold on tight, worried that she’ll drop you. Not that it’s all that far from the ground. Maybe it’s just kind of nice to be manhandled by a big strong woman.

“Missed ye,” she says in your ear.

“Jamie, we just saw each other yesterday,” you remind her, still laughing. “We just met yesterday.”

“Pff. No matter.” She gives you one more spin before setting you down. “Awlright, let’s put these big strong lads to work, aye? If ye ask nice Gaz’ll prob’ly take off his shirt.”

“I think he should keep it on, actually,” you say dryly.

“Yer right, kitty, don’t want to get distracted while there’s a job to be done. I’ll take my shirt off for ye later, since yer insistin'.” She loops an arm over your shoulders and presses a quick peck to the side of your head before letting go and dashing back over to the vehicles, giving you no chance to say that you most certainly had not been insisting.

No one lets you help, beyond opening doors and helping them navigate corners, but you suspect that you really only would have slowed up the process. They make carrying the couch up the stairs look easy, and the whole job is done in under an hour, despite the three flights of stairs. Soap moves her car to the lot, taking the space Leslie indicates, and you walk up together, Leslie telling her the laundry hours and letting her know that she was welcome to paint her room any colour she liked.

“Hey, John,” Leslie says peering in the open door with a grin. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

John turns a curious shade of pink. “Ah, well. Things have been busy. No time for workshops.”

“Well, you’re welcome back any time. Bring your friends, even.” She claps Soap on the shoulder as she turns to head back downstairs. It strikes you that she only came up to say hello to John, who had done his best to avoid her the whole time they’d been moving boxes. “Nice to meet you, Jamie. You’d best be good for our girl.”

“Ahm always good,” Soap protests. “Ask anyone.”

Leslie glances over at Gaz, Ghost and Price, who shake their heads in unison.

“Awlright, ask anyone except these bastards. They dinnae appreciate me. Even when I was going to order them takeaway and git ‘em a few pints.” She pouts, leaning against the doorway dramatically clutching her chest. “Ahm misunderstood in my own time.”

Leslie chuckles. “Well, she’s a handful. Good luck with that one, honey,” she tells you as she trots back downstairs.

You shuffle Soap into the apartment and close the door so you can release Red Herring from the confines of your bedroom, where he’s been yowling his displeasure for the past hour. She flops over the back of the couch, landing upside down with a sigh, and pulls out her phone, head tipped over the edge of the seat. “What do ye lads want? A Chinese? Or somethin’ else?”

“We also don’t have to stick around.” Gaz looks around at the others. John is looking at your bookshelf with interest, and Ghost is crouched in the hallway, greeting Red Herring. Gaz gives you a sheepish smile. “Or, uh. Maybe we do.”

Soap hauls herself into a more upright position, both hands still holding her phone. Her core strength must be unreal. You briefly wonder if she has actual, honest-to-god abs. “You want ‘em gone, kitty? Hens only?”

It strikes you that whatever this group has going on, it’s more than a little codependent. Better to get used to them now. “It’s alright. I’ll hang out in my room if I run out of social battery. Used to do that when Fern’s friends got to be too much.”

Soap tosses her phone down and flips her legs over the side of the couch and then to the floor. “Oh no, kitty. Dinna start off bein’ accomodatin’ when ye’d rather not be. I can tell ‘em to fuck off. Weal. I can tell Gaz and the captain to fuck off. I have ta drive LT home. No cabbie in his right mind will take the poor fella.”

“Not even the one’s not in their right minds,” Ghost says mournfully. Somehow, he’s coaxed Red up onto his shoulder, and is wearing the fat orange cat like a fur stole. You can hear the cat purring from several feet away. “For some reason, I make people nervous.”

“Couldn’t be the eye black and the fuckin’ skull motif, LT,” Soap says.

“Couldn’t be the size of you either,” Gaz adds.

“Sweetest pup I know,” John agrees. “People just don’t trust these days. Sign of society collapsin’.” He winks at you.

“What’s the word, kitty?” Soap drapes herself over your shoulders and nuzzles against your hair. Her nose runs along the curve of your neck, and it doesn’t seem to bother her even a little that the other three are watching with fascination. They're trying to be subtle about it, and failing miserably. John has a book in his hands, holding it upside down. Gaz is pretending to study a picture on the wall. Ghost is… Well, Ghost isn’t pretending to be subtle. “Want ‘em to go?” Her voice sounds a little breathy against your ear, and you’re not at all sure what to do with the electricity that shoots through your whole body. “Have us some girl time?”

“They did just help you move,” you say slowly. It’s taking a moment for you to collect your thoughts enough to speak. “Would be rude to send them away without a meal, right? Plus Red just got settled into his new nap spot.” You gesture at Ghost, who’s carefully walking over to the chair to sit, holding his shoulders very still so as not to disturb the cat, his eyes still turned your way.

You're not totally sure what Soap thinks is girl time, but you think it might be several shades more intimate than you're used to.

“Aw, yer too good ta my lads, kitty.” Soap kisses the spot right in front of your ear and lets you go. Without her solid body holding you up, you briefly consider melting into a puddle all over the floor, but manage, somehow, through sheer force of will, to keep your knees from buckling.

Leslie was right. You definitely have your hands full.

[sprnklersplashes]

cross my thoughtless heart (or: penelope and athena have a long overdue talk)

ao3 buy me a coffee

Telemachus’ balcony overlooks the Queen’s.

A slight breeze ruffles Athena’s feathers as she perches on the ledge, carrying the salt spray from the sea. Meters below, Penelope sits on her own, sipping tea while sorting through yet another pile of letters. Her face is hidden, both by her hair and the distance, but it doesn’t matter. Her grief rolls off of her like waves, the pressure on her shoulders is tangible. To anyone else, she appears as she always has, Ithaca’s unbreakable Queen. Certainly, it’s how the suitors see her, and Athena can tell there’s something about the challenge that they relish.

The only two who are not fooled sit right above her. Her, because she can see through even the most cunning of mortals. And Telemachus, because he knows his mother’s heart as well as his own. 

The Queen shifts and tilts her head, squinting against the sun. In that moment, Athena feels the strangest sensation of someone seeing right through her, defenses and glamours falling away like dust. Her instincts tell her to run but something stronger keeps her in place, something unspoken hanging between her and the Queen.

Thankfully, Telemachus breaks the silence.

“Athena! I think I’ve got it.”

With a heavy wrench, Athena jumps from the ledge, takes her other form and slips back into Telemachus’ room. He’s sitting on his bed, crumpled pages littering the floor around him and a half-finished sandwich on a plate beside him. His grin widens as she enters and before she can ask what’s happened he sits up on his knees, sketchbook brandished like a trophy.

“I think something like this.” He points to what he’s drawn; a long spear with a pointed arrowhead on either side. The blades have a curve on one edge and are serrated along another, and about a quarter of the way down either way he’s added some cross-hatching to the body. The tips curve in an almost wicked fashion; Athena can see the gleam of it in her mind. It would be fearsome.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s a fine-looking weapon,” she says. “You’re good with spears.” She tilts her head. “What’s the cross-hatch?”

“I want some stronger grip on it. Just in case.” She nods, though it’s not the detail she’s interested in. She runs her finger along the body of the spear and back, tracing a path between the two blades.

“And, why two?”

Telemachus’ eyes darken. His gaze moves to the door, and he tightens his grip on the page.

“I need to take on whole groups of them,” he says flatly. Athena just nods. 

This is the warrior she wanted. Logical and practical, only focussed on the mission ahead. This is what she would have molded Odysseus into if he wasn’t so damn…. Odysseus. The image before her should fill her with pride, instead all she feels is fear.

Tenderly, she takes the page from him. Her free hand goes behind him. She stops just short of stroking his hair.

“A wise choice,” she says. Thankfully, Telemachus blushes and Athena lets herself breathe. He shifts to his knees as she tucks the page into her belt, keen eyes watching her intently.

“I should be back soon,” she tells him. 

“Where are you going?” he asks. “Also I need my drawing back. The blacksmith-”

“You think I’m trusting some mortal blacksmith with your weapon?” she asks. Telemachus’ mouth falls open, a protest ready on his lips, but she shakes her head. “Hephaestus owes me a favour. I won’t be long. In the meantime, keep training with your normal spear. I want that lunge perfected by the time I return.”

Telemachus’ hand covers his mouth. His eyes are blown wide, wider than the sky and sea and everything in between. A small spike of panic emerges inside her, and Athena worries if she’s finally pushed the boy too far. 

Do mortals really ‘die of shock’ or is that an expression?

“Oh…. My…. Gods,” he gasps. He pulls his hand away from his mouth and there Athena sees what could be the biggest smile in the history of man. “Hephaestus is going to make my spear?”

It’s with a bittersweet pang she realises how much he looks like Odysseus did before she ruined it all. 

When he jumps off the bed and rushes to her, she doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

At least, this time, she allows herself to smile back. 

“Is he making it in his forge?”

“Of course.”

“In Olympus?”

“Yes. That’s where his forge is.”

“What’s he going to make it out of? Is it going to have powers? Will there be a mark on it? Oh!” He skirts around and throws himself in front of her, so much rigour that he nearly knocks himself and Athena to the ground. “Let me come with you!”

She blinks.

“What?”

“Let me come with you. To Olympus.”

“Out of the question.”

“Please,” he asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It’s my spear, I should get to see it made. What if I need to give him a suggestion?”

“Then he’ll throw a hammer at you.”

“Please, I’ll stick with you the whole time and people won’t even notice I’m there, I just-”

“Telemachus.” Telemachus stops, frozen by the severity of her voice. It’s good to see she still has it, she supposes. Slowly, he lowers himself down from his tiptoes, face twisted into a bashful expression.

“I got too excited. Didn’t I?”

Like father, like son Athena thinks fondly and she squeezes his shoulder.

“It’s okay. It isn’t about you. It’s just… Things up there are complicated right now.” As if they’re ever not complicated. “My uncle is mad at someone, my father and step-mother are mad at each other again. My siblings are driving me up the wall.” She sighs, already exhausted just thinking about it. It’s not just for Telemachus that she’s spending more and more time in Ithaca. Despite everything, there’s a calmness and affection in the palace she could never find in Olympus. “I don’t want to risk you being caught in the middle.”

Telemachus deflates, his eyes cast to the floor. It doesn’t suit him, the light he embodies should never be dimmed.

“Hey.” She takes him by the chin and gives a gentle smile. “One day we’ll go to Olympus together. Right now, your mother needs you here.” She pauses, a small lump in her throat. “So does your father. Wherever he is.”

Telemachus’ eyes glimmer. He puffs out his chest and rises his shoulders.

“You’ll be back soon, right?”

“You won’t even notice I’m gone.” She releases his chin and steps back. “Until then, take care of your mother and work on that lunge.”

“Yes ma’am.” He gives her a two-fingered salute that draws a laugh out of her. She gives him one back and slips out of the room, Tel’s design tucked safely into her belt. Hephestus will put up a fight, no doubt, but he does owe her one and he’ll enjoy himself. And once Telemachus gets it in his hands, he might just change the world. 

Perhaps all three of them will. Together. 

In her almost giddy state, she rounds the corner and then immediately halts. Penelope is standing there; her steady gaze shows this is no chance meeting. Her jaw set in a way that takes Athena back to the battlefield. 

At first, all they can do is look at each other, both waiting for the other to make the first move. The feeling from the balcony returns, the complete and total vulnerability beneath her gaze. Perhaps it’s her own fault; she spent so long trying to avoid Penelope. It was only a matter of time before she caught her. 

Stuck, Athena does the only thing she can do with a Queen; she presses her fist to her chest and bows. 

“My lady.”

In return, Penelope drops to one knee and bows her head.

“Goddess Athena.”

“No, please.” Athena waves her hand, tries to smile through the spike of discomfort. “There’s no need for such things."

The Queen nods. She rises slowly, gracefully, in a way that would make Hera feel common. Perfectly poised, perfectly still. The one thing that betrays her is the way she pulls at her fingers, anxiety evident in her touch. Athena wonders if the reverse is true; if she sees the guilt she carries every day and if it shows in her stance. 

“I hear from my son you’re training him now,” she says. 

“Yes.” She nods once, a sharp, quick movement, and almost rushes towards her. “Yes and he is amazing, my lady. Truly. I am on my way to forge a weapon from Olympus. I believe he will change the world.”

Penelope sighs. 

“To be honest, I didn’t know what to make of it when he told me,” she says. She pulls at her armband, her lips pressed into a thin line. Dark curls fall in front of her face as she looks up. “He keeps saying you’re his friend. He’ll tell anyone who will listen.”

Athena exhales, slowly, a genuine smile tugging on her lips. The word ‘friend’ slips beneath her skin, touches a part of her heart she thought she discarded centuries ago.

“He is my friend,” she tells her. 

“He is also my son,” Penelope says. Her breath hitches and she runs her nails down her bare arm. The hair on Athena’s neck rises, despite the clear sky outside. 

Shame opens in her chest and pulls her soul inwards. 

“I know, my lady.”

Penelope swallows, the composure on her face slipping as she changes from Queen to mother.

“Telemachus is barely more than a child,” she whispers. Penelope twists the ring on her right finger, at the same time Athena’s gut moves in a similar way. “I have lost enough time with my husband. If anything happened to Telemachusl-”

“It won’t.” Athena closes the distance between them and takes Penelope by the arms, her eyes locked onto hers. She has taken this stance many times, fighting with Ares, fighting with other gods. This time feels more charged than any of those. “I swear to you, my lady. As long as he is under my protection, no harm will come to that boy.”

“He trusts you.”

“Yes.” Penelope gasps, and a single tear runs down her cheek. She presses her fist into her hand, cheeks flushed red. 

“My husband trusted you as well.”

Athena’s voice cracks.

“Yes.”

Reeling from the blow, Athena releases Penelope and stumbles backwards. Penelope shakes out her arms, touches where Athena’s hands had been. There is no visible mark, but still. Athena looks down at her own hands, rough from this mornings’ training with Telemachus. He had high-fived her and she obliged without a thought. When he fell, he reached for her and without hesitation, she caught him.

She still sees it in her mind, Odysseus on the ground below, watching as she ran to Olympus. With each step, she waited for him to reach out, to admit she was right and ask her to stay. When he didn’t, she closed the door and told herself it was for the best. 

Selfish, prideful, vain. It took her a decade to realise it, but he knew her better than she knew herself. Goddess of wisdom, bested by a family of mortals. 

Across from her, Penelope gathers herself. She pushes her hair from her eyes and inhales, the tear track glistening on her cheek.

“Forgive me, Athena. I spoke out of turn.”

Athena shakes her head, a sad laugh bubbling out of her.

“No. You didn’t.”

Penelope’s eyes widen, her mouth falls open for a fraction of a moment before she gathers herself. Her eyes gleam as she takes a step towards her, quiet rage lurking in the depths.

“If we’re being honest with one another,” she begins. “How can I trust you now, Athena? I don’t know what happened between you and my husband, but how do I know it won’t repeat itself with my son?”

How, indeed? A million promises come to her, contracts and pledges, rituals of binding between herself and Telemachus. None of them matter and none of them feel real. They are all Olympian in nature. There is only one thing she can say and it might not mean anything, but it might be what saves them.

“I know better now, Your Majesty,” she says. Pride clogs her throat but she swallows it and adds,  “I will not make the same mistake twice.” 

Silence descends on them, seconds stretch into hours. Athena holds her breath, her hands pressed together in some sort of prayer. Who could she pray to?

Eventually, Penelope nods. Maybe it’s her Olympian upbringing, but Athena feels as if she just passed some kind of test. 

“If it’s good enough for my son, it’s good enough for me,” she says. The corner of her mouth curls upwards and her eyes meet hers. She is not forgiven, she knows. But there is understanding there, a chance to salvage herself. 

Athena could weep.

“I should return to my weaving,” Penelope says. “Thank you, Athena. For your patronage.” With a curt nod, she brushes past Athena and heads down the hall, hurried footsteps clicking off the marble floor.

“My lady?” Athena asks. Penelope turns, wringing her hands. Athena takes a breath and hopes the cold is her imagination. “How many guards are posted outside your rooms at any given point?”

Penelope gulps. Every time Athena sees the Queen, her fear is there, lurking beneath the exterior like a shark beneath the water. Telemachus has confided in her about how she sobs at night, when she thinks he can’t hear. 

“No less than two. Sometimes more if a suitor stays the night.” She pulls on her bracelet again, a shadow passes over her face. “Telemachus has also started sleeping in my rooms.”

“I see.” Athena rolls her shoulders, flexes her hand. No matter her friendships with mortals, she is still a goddess of war. “I will visit each of your guards individually.”

“I appreciate that.”

“And what about your weapons?” 

The Queen stiffens. Her eyes dart around, searching for hidden spies, and she slips closer to Athena. When she speaks, her voice is just about loud enough.

“My bow and quiver are beneath the floorboards. Two daggers in the nightstand and two more in my jewellery box.” She shivers and pulls her wrap tighter around herself. “I would prefer you didn’t tell Telemachus.”

“I understand,” she says. Penelope closes her eyes. As the late-morning sun streams through the window, Athena sees every line and curve mapped onto her face, the weight of the twenty years settling onto her. Twenty years as a lone Queen, a single mother, a girl and then a woman lying in an empty bed. Surviving on nothing but hope and spite. 

Penelope might not have broken under the weight; that does not mean she can carry it forever. Nor should she.

Seeing her strength, Athena feels such complete awe that she is suddenly compelled to bow again. Instead, she steps back.

“I should go. I have business to take care of in Olympus.” Penelope hums, disappears down the hall as Athena steps onto the ledge. As she begins her ascent, a newfound strength surges through her; she carries all three of them with each step she takes. Hephaestus’ forge is just one step on her journey. 

She has spent enough time running from her mistake. It’s time to pay her father a visit. 

[electricbluebutterflies]

from the wedding prompts: last-minute arguments for joel/tess?

Modern AU, PG-ish, and also on ao3.

This is what Tess gets for thinking a trip down to the courthouse would be the easy option.

Tess is, as far as she’s concerned, not really the marrying type. She is also aware that changing her status would make certain parts of her life a lot easier, and if nothing else it’ll mean no weird looks from the lady at the tax-prep place next year, and-

Easy option. Yeah. Like goddamn hell it is.

She has no one to blame for this but herself – it was her idea, anything big they do is her idea, Joel just goes with her occasional uncharacteristic moments of ambition bless his heart – and she’s kinda side-eyeing herself for deciding two weeks ago that it was about time for them to get married, and-

“You seen my tie?”

“You own a tie?”

Fifteen years as… honestly their dynamic has always had more of a roommates-with-benefits tendency than anything Tess would ever describe as romantic, and it suits both of them fine, but still-

“Think it may have fish on it?”

Yeah no, she remembers it now, clearance-rack abomination bought a couple years ago because someone wanted to appeal a parking ticket and come to think of it that was the last time they had any reason to be near the courthouse, and she’d thrown it out right after because it hurt her eyes bad enough she didn’t even want to get on top of him when they got home from that little adventure, and-

“Don’t have any memory of the thing,” Tess yells from her perch in the bathroom. She’s figured that such a life-altering occasion might be the first reason she’s had in multiple years to put on makeup, and eyeliner has never been one of her talents, and-

“The hell are you doing?”

She turns and glares at him, dark brown pencil liner still in hand. “Bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

“Last I checked we’re driving together, so-“

“Don’t mean you get to come in here and bother me. Not when I’m already-“

“Now I’m just more confused.”

She loves him, to the extent she’s capable of love, this tree of a man who does apparently own a solid-color button-down and they are both trying today and-

“Figure we’re just doin’ this once, so-“

“You know you don’t need that.”

“Perfectly aware, but… it’s an occasion, I thought-“

“Whatever you want.”

Which in that voice tends to mean he’s totally giving up, but-

“If you don’t think I look pretty, you could just say that.”

She is not changing her mind about the pink sleeveless dress – every stable surface of this house has seen proof she doesn’t belong in virginal white, not to mention her bein’ on the other side of forty – but maybe almost-matching lipstick is a bad idea or-

“You look fine.”

“I do not want to look fine, I want-“

“You’re overthinking this.”

“In an hour I am going to-“

“Do you still want to-“

“I would not be trying to stab my goddamn eye with a mascara wand if I didn’t want to marry you,” Tess hisses. “Now go… I don’t know…”

“Nah. Keeping an eye on you so you don’t bug out and-“

She takes a couple steps closer and takes a long deep kiss, just enough to get him breathless. “You wanna help?”

“That a good idea?”

“Probably not, but…”

(He does fix a few hairpins. This is what tall guys are for.)

[dontwritemeoff]

(i know you havent gotten around to ryona and ayame i just use LI as an umbrella term)

ELI!!! headcanon's on the LI's thoughts during the scene where they come to your cabin while everyone else is on chronos?

OMG ok i'm sorry i let this rot in my ask box, school started and i became a husk of myself for a minute there

I also wanted to replay those scenes to remind me of the headspace that they and traveler would be in <3 I'm going to post just June's for now and reblog this as I finish the other's parts!

JUNE

In all honesty, as he stood at your door with Lizzie on his shoulder, he felt ridiculous. The amount of care he'd put into setting aside all of his duties for the day just hoping to spend time with you, he'd never done that before for anyone and he wasn't sure who he'd become in the recent weeks. To be so head over heals for you, so stereotypically smitten. Despite that, he didn't hate it, being allowed to have the soft parts of himself bared to the world, knowing that they rested safely in your careful hands.

His thoughts are interrupted when you open your door, obviously not expecting him to be just standing outside of it.

"Oh! June! I was hoping I'd see you today," you smiled, his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

"That's good," he smiled back, "you're not busy, are you?"

"Not at all! I was actually, um, going to see if you were free right now. I'm glad you are! And Lizzie too!"

You tentatively reached your hand up to where Lizzie's perched on his shoulder, letting him take the lead when it comes to petting. Lizzie sniffed your hand before rubbing a scaled head against your palm.

As June watches you interact so carefully with his pet, he felt a sense of rightness settle in his chest. He'd made the right decision, letting you into his heart, despite all of the fear that accompanied that opening up.

"Would you two like to come in? I know it's not really anything special in here, but it's home," real appreciation seeping into your voice with the last statement.

"I'd love to," he says, stepping inside and deferring to where you indicate to put Lizzie.

"Well, now that you're here, what would you like to do? I unfortunately don't have much in terms of entertainment but Damon lent me some books. Not...that you'd want to just sit reading in silence together. Unless you do! That's fine!"

The look over tenderness that settles on June's face at your rambling goes unnoticed by you, but nonetheless you pause to let him get a word in, knowing he'd never dream of interrupting you.

"Well, I was thinking earlier that I don't really know much about you, so if it's ok, I'd like you to tell me about yourself."

You sit on your bed and raise your eyebrows, not thinking that beyond the whole "Peg'asi thing" that there was much to say.

"I guess then, what would you like to know?"

June sits next to you, hands just brushing each other on top of your blanket.

"What did you like to do...before this? Did you have any hobbies?"

You laugh at that for a moment, then regain your composure to show that he did nothing wrong.

"You want me to talk about my hobbies?"

"I want to know everything about you," he says, earnestly, before realizing it even slipped past his lips. You flush at that, not expecting such an honest answer.

"Oh...alight," you let a flustered smile grace your lips, "Well, after finishing my studies...."

The two of you spoke for hours, not even noticing time pass. You'd ended up both laying down, facing each other with your hands and legs intertwined, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand as you exchanged pieces of each of your souls, worry of judgement left far behind.

Never in June's life had he imagined he'd get such a precious moment, with someone he cared so deeply about, let alone many of those moments to look forward to in the future. The longer he stared into your eyes, the more he felt himself promise to himself, the universe, and anyone who may ask, that he would make sure you would always be able to smile the way you did then.

I hope this was good! I feel a little bit rusty since the only things I'm writing now are assignments lol, however if someone wants to know more about insect's impact on the environment i can write tf out of that

be back with the other LI reactions soon!! :)

[kaidenya]

Getting Caught ✧ MHA

Description: Headcanons for getting caught in a intimate moment with Hitoshi Shinso, Tenya Iida, Mirio Togata, & Tomura Shigaraki

WARNING: NSFW, suggestive content NOTE: This is a repost of an old SHITPOST headcanon I had on my previous account so if this looks familiar I hope you enjoy it the second time around!

“Nobody will know...”

Shinso

Shinso would go to his grave claiming that you were to blame for this situation

But in all honesty, he had been allowing things to build for far too long

You two weren’t necessarily a secret, but most people just assumed you were bEsT fRiEnDs 🥴

It was an honest misunderstanding

You had decided to keep physical contact to a minimum after an unfortunate attempt at holding his hand left you believing he didn’t enjoy any forms of PDA.

Shinso had just assumed the same about you.

However, as the two of you grew more serious, you found it more difficult to keep your hands to yourself

It just so happened your boyfriend had been working extremely hard in the hero course and it s h o w e d

You had found yourself admiring his changing physique and in turn, found you weren’t the only one admiring your boyfriend.

You weren’t necessarily jealous— you trusted him more than anything, but he tended to be socially constipated

And nobody seemed to know about you. Thus giving the other interested parties an unintentional greenlight to flirt with him. And there was one girl that had stood out among the sea of suitors.

Each time you saw the second-year girl perch next to Shinso it made your skin crawl, but no lines had been crossed.

Until they were.

Your knuckles were gripping the strap of your bag so tightly it ached when you made your way to where your boyfriend was perched outside

The second-year didn’t even acknowledge you as she continued her flirtatious ways and you don’t resist the urge to roll your eyes as you settle into the place next to him.

He had flashes you a lazy smile before focusing back on his phone screen.

Then her hand landed on his upper thigh

Let me tell you: sleepy boy was shocked when she touched him, but he was EVEN MORE SHOCKED when you took her by the wrist and tossed her hand to the side

You waste no time threading your fingers with his, rising to your feet and all but hauling him from his seat

His amusement only grew as he realized just how jealous you had gotten, a smirk forming over his lips as he set to teasing you

‘What’s the matter, kitty? You don’t like anyone touching daddy?’

NO, YOU DO NOT

You have no idea how you ended up on your knees in a supply closet??

Shinso is feeling very sure of himself above you, using the hand that was gripping the back of your neck as leverage to hold you down on his length

k i n g of dirty talk 🤭

Absolutely cannot help himself when it comes to telling you how pretty you look choking on his cock

Honestly doesn’t last long, but what do you expect? Seeing your jealous and possessive response to the girl he had given little to no acknowledgment had lit a fire in his chest

He was desperate to get his hands on you, to remind you that he was just as much yours as you were his.

And when he does— oh MAN he makes you forget all about the second-year girl

He has one of your legs draped over his shoulder as he goes down on you, licking and sucking at you in a way that had you trembling

You accidentally knock over a pile of brooms and mops, neither of you paying them any mind as your head lulled in bliss

If only you had remembered to flick the lock on the door…

Kirishima really thought someone was banging on the door for help. It wouldn’t have been manly— or heroic not to make sure someone wasn’t in trouble

Besides, why else would someone be making so much noise in a supply closet if they weren’t stuck??

So when the door swung open and he locked eyes with you, still panting and moaning as an all too familiar head of purple hair buried further into your heat—

He let out the loudest shout he could muster. Apologies poured from his mouth as he fumbled to shut the door

However, your boyfriend made no move to let you go. Instead, he hummed against your skin, only leaning back to nip at your inner thigh before speaking in a heavy voice

‘Better make this fast, kitty.’

Iida

So you’ve tried to keep your relationship on the down-low bc Iida doesn’t want anyone to think he’s distracted

We all know he just doesn’t wanna be called out for his obvious favoritism

Before you got together you were constantly pushing him, breaking minuscule rules in favor of gaining his attention. Nothing too immoral, but enough to get under his skin.

Like slipping into class just seconds after the bell had rung, nearly avoiding Aizawa’s attention, but never making it past Iida.

Or when a class had gotten a bit too stressful, the room filling with hot air as tensions rose and you had to pop open a few buttons of your uniform top

Then there was your favorite offense; desk sitting. If there was one sure way to get a reaction from your stickler of a boyfriend it was to place yourself on top of a desk.

Which is what you found yourself doing at the end of an unfavorable week. The two of you hadn’t gotten a moment together outside of your studies and you were growing needy.

So with a few moments of free time before class began, you decided to chat with Tsu and Uraraka, settling atop the desk between them when you had grown tired of standing

The desk belonging to none other than Tenya

Your ankles were crossed as you leaned forward to speak with Tsuyu and he was beyond s h o o k

Immediate hand chopping.

He’s towering over you, ranting about how your behavior was improper while keeping his hands clenched in an attempt to keep from running his fingertips along your thighs.

When was the last time you were this close to him? It had to have been longer than he realized for him to have such a strong reaction— are you biting your lip??

Any response between you died off as Aizawa addressed the class and you were sent back to your seat, leaving Iida far more frazzled than you realized

The moment class ends he has you tucked under an empty stairwell to continue his lecture

Only he doesn’t get very far

Tenya Iida has an authority kink. I take no criticism.

When you look up at him from under your lashes, muttering the words ‘yes sir’ as he chastised you, his resolve was shattered

Has you pressed against the wall immediately, fisting your blazer as he dips to press his forehead to yours

‘Why must you push me?’

Doesn’t even let you answer before his mouth is covering yours, hips arching to grind his obvious arousal against you

Knowing he had been just as affected by your as you had him was enough to spur a moan past your lips and he takes the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth

Although he was MORTIFIED at the impropriety of it all, he couldn’t resist the sweet noises you made as he expertly worked against you

His hand eventually slides between you, pushing past the waistband of your bottoms and grinding his palm against you teasingly

‘Now, who do you belong to, darling?’

You you youyouyou—

Your hand was rubbing along Iida’s hard cock, his length straining against his pants to the point you’re almost worried they’ll rip

Somehow the two of you had been so lost in one another that you hadn’t heard the door open at the top of the stairwell

Denki and Mineta honestly weren’t creeping this time— they just wanted a snack from the vending machine adjacent to you!

Got a whole ass meal instead 👁👄👁

A moan tore from your throat, quickly being smothered by Tenya’s parted lips as you came on his fingers

You had barely made out the echoing sound of objects clattering to the ground through the ringing in your ears

But your boyfriend had heard

His lips separated from you in an instant, shocked gaze shifting into something closer to anger as he recognized your classmates

Denki began stammering out an apology, looking close to short-circuiting as his attention flickered between you

Mineta had let his gaze linger on you for too long. His eyes taking in the way your exposed chest— Tenya must have pulled the buttons loose

You cringe away from his gaze, post-orgasm haze™ spurring you to tuck yourself closer to Tenya to avoid their stares rather than snap at them

It was your obvious discomfort that had kicked Iida into gear, twisting to thread your button your blouse together before rounding on the others

If embarrassment wasn’t enough, the thought of them having seen you in such a vulnerable position had him seething as he began his lecture

Attempts hand chopping them into submission, but they kept disregarding his words in favor of catching another glimpse of you in a fucked out state

All fondness for his classmates had vanished as he stepped into their line of sight, shielding you from their gazes. His eyes almost daring them to continue

Whatever words lingering on their tongues died off, heads bowing in shame as they agreed to keep the entire situation to themselves

After all, the potential wrath of Tenya Iida was not something to be taken lightly.

Mirio

Mirio’s love language is touch, without a doubt, so it’s honestly surprising when he’s NOT trying to get handsy with you

He’s always defended his obvious displays of affection by claiming he had so little free time— he’d be a fool to waste the opportunity to touch you!

Mirio jumped at the opportunity to feel you against him. Whether it was a heavy kiss to your lips after walking you to class, a hand slipping under your shirt to caress your back, or his fingers trailing teasingly along your thigh.

However, as much as he was attentive, he was also forgetful.

It was because of that forgetfulness that you found yourself alone in your dorm. Countless boxes of takeout were lined up on your desk and a pre-planned movie was ready to play on your small tv.

After a few hours and countless delivered messages, you succumbed to disappointment.

The following day Mirio can’t seem to figure out why you’re avoiding him, but he refuses to give up without a fight.

Definitely thinks it’s a game of some sort and takes it upon himself to break your silent streak

It wasn’t easy being upset with Mirio. He had an uncanny ability to brighten any room he stepped into and being irrevocably in love with him only strengthened his effect

He’s always hard for you and loves letting you know just how you affect him— so why not place a hand on your hand, pressing firmly against your back when he slips past?

You always look so stunning— why not feed you compliments at every given moment?

How could he not look at you with the most iNTENSE GAZE undressing you with his eyes in front of everyone?

It’s when he realizes that you aren’t reacting to his teasing and flirtatious behaviorist that he caves.

He finds you between classes, stirring you away from the crowd, despite your wordless protests. It isn’t until you’re tucked away in an abandoned hall that he finally asks what was wrong

You had fully intended on dragging it out, allowing anger to push you on. But he spoke to you in the softest voice, looked at you with eyes filled with so much devotion that it was nearly overwhelming

He is shocked when you shove him away— were you tearing up??

Actually gets super defensive because he doesn’t realize HES the one that made you upset

Once you finally cave and remind him about the date he had missed it hits him like a freight train.

The two of you so rarely got time together and he had stood you up.

‘I’m so sorry, baby. I’ve been so busy lately— I didn’t realize I was neglecting you.’

Does not waste time making it up to you. He cups your face in his hands as he starts placing soft kisses on your face, cooing softly as tears roll down your cheeks

Did somebody say praise kink?

How can you stay mad at him when he’s telling you how sorry he is and that he loves you and you’re the only one his dick will get hard for??

It isn’t long before he’s pinned you between him and the wall, hitching your legs around his waist while coaxing you into a heavy kiss

His hips flex to grind against you, his hot length slotting between your thighs as he digs his fingertips into the curve of your ass

Mirio does not care that somebody could see— his quirk leaves him naked all the time and he’s shameless 🥵

But again he’s so forgetful—

And he was meant to go straight to class 1A to talk with them alongside the other members of The Big Three

So when he didn’t show up Aizawa had sent Tamaki and Midoriya in search of their future number one hero

How were you supposed to know they would turn the corner just as you arched from the wall?

Mirio had no idea anyone was there as he used the hand that was wrapped around your throat as leverage to grind you over the edge—

bOY were you embarrassed when you heard the two boys audibly g a s p

Midoriya’s embarrassment nearly gave Tamaki a run for his money. You were quick to turn away, immediately hiding your face in his chest as he greeted the duo in an overly cheerful voice

Absolutely teases the three of you over the incident FOREVER!!

Shigaraki

Shigaraki was obsessed with you.

There was no way around how infatuated he had become and it only seemed to grow alongside your relationship

He was touch starved. The moment you began giving him physical affection and attention it was game over

He had no shame, especially when it came to his desire for you, which is how you often found yourself perched on his lap no matter the company.

That being said, the leader of the League of Villains became intolerable when the two of you were separated for long.

And a recent spiral of events has prevented you from returning to the hideout, thus leaving the others to deal with him

You weren’t expected to return until the following week. Aside from texting Shigaraki endlessly (didn’t he have anything better to do?) and assuring Twice and Toga that you’d be returning as soon as possible, you hadn’t had much contact with the League

Shigaraki was wound up tight, lashing out at the others far more than usual. That was how he ended up sitting at the bar, Father concealing his annoyance as Kurogiri took over the meeting.

And suddenly you were walking in, muttering a quick apology before taking the only available seat beside Toga

Shigaraki could not keep his eyes off of you, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the others. It was the most present he had been since you left.

Of course, that meant Dabi has also noticed and never missing an opportunity to mess with their ruthless leader he shifted closer from his place behind you, muttering small talk into your ear

There is no doubt in my mind that Shigaraki was staring at you both like 😠 behind Father

Luckily the meeting had been wrapping up upon your arrival and the group was dismissed, many leaving to handle their own business.

However, the moment you had leaped to your feet Tomura had vanished from the room

With a sigh you moved over to the bar, sliding into the seat that had once been occupied by your man and Kurogiri placed a drink before you

By the time you had downed the last bit the bar had gotten eerily quiet, though when you shifted to speak to the Misty Man he was already looking over your shoulder. With a single nod, he had left the room.

The moment he was gone leather artist gloves shoved under your top, your heart racing at the all too familiar feeling as a palm settled between your shoulders

‘I’ve missed you, pet.’

There was a harsh tone to his voice, but it was contradicted by the trail of open-mouthed kisses he pressed along your neck and shoulder

Your entire body arched against him, head craning back to catch a glimpse of him, smiling widely as you met his gaze and returned the sentiment

A scoff slid past his lips, though you could see the amusement dancing in his gaze as his hand reached around to wrap around your throat

Despite the gloves, he kept a pinky in the air

His mouth covers yours in a sloppy kiss as his hips jolt sharply against you, knocking you against the countertop

Absolutely cannot control himself as he ruts against you, wasting little to no time in pushing your bottoms down past your thighs

Heat pooled in your stomach as his free hand reached between you to pull himself from his jeans

His dick slid between your thighs, a throaty whine sliding past your lips and despite the slick from your arousal the thick head stretched you perfectly

You had been completely lost in him, moaning and whining freely as he continued to rut against you.

There was a click throughout the room, similar to the door handle being twisted and your attention was adverted to the source

However, Shigaraki was faster.

He grabbed the back of your head and using his hold as leverage to press your face flat against the bar-top while his other hand worked against your sensitive center. A loud moan that was undoubtedly his name tumbled past your lips

‘There’s my little slut— louder, make sure they know who makes you feel this good.’

Unbeknownst to you, the person he wanted to be sure knew you were his had entered the room, Tomura meeting his gaze with a smirk as you began chanting his name like a prayer

A harsh thrust of his hips sent you over the edge as you came on his cock, filthy praises slipping past his lips as his hot release rolled down your thighs

He placed another sloppy kiss on the back of your neck before parting from you.

The moment you lift your head and begin adjusting yourself you lock eyes with Dabi

Embarrassed didn’t even begin to explain how you felt as Tomura let out a loud laugh, reaching down to pull your bottoms up after he had tucked himself away

‘Go wait on my bed while I speak with Dabi and I may let you come on my tongue.’

You wasted no time hurrying away from the two, heart pounding from both excitement and humiliation as you rushed to do as you were told

[seamistgale]

*digs my lost tags up from the ether* uhhh… what did i have in my drafts….?

Dangerous and equally Volatile bf Dan with his Positive Exposure boyfriend who has Experience with Anger Issues like you wouldn't imagine.

He lets Dick most of the moral heavy-lifting decisions instead of defaulting to violence now, bc the Sudden and Unexpected, but Not Unpleasant Codependance has a chokehold on his emotions and need for positive reinforcement. It's nice not to have to worry about things he doesn't get anymore, yk? Who cares if a couple of cities get leveled? Not him, that's who. Dick would though. He'd be so angry. Dan can deal with angry Nightwing-- he can't quite deal with a disappointed, anguished Dick that's angry at himself up because 'maybe i didnt help you when you needed me' Grayson. It's like Jazz crying for him. because of him. It hurts.

Babs thinks it isn't healthy, and has said so and tried to reason with Dick bc you have to see this can end up terribly, right? Given their history, this situation in particular sounds familiar (Dick butting his head where people don't ask him to.) and they've been here more times than she wants to keep count of.

Dick knows he has his bf on a bit of a 'hey tell me whenever u got The Urges babe' leash, but counters that it's helping?? He might be fumbling a bit in the dark on how to phrase things in a way that a) Appeal to Dan's sense of feelings-driven logic thing he has going on, b) Doesn't come up as manipulative because the intent isnt to, to restrict but help his bf redirect all those extreme impulses into good things. bc he believes in him. He's already used to being a good chunk of the hero community's morale booster, and he'd like to say his own moral compass is usually pretty accurate. With Dan he can roughhouse a little bit. just a little. Apparently playfighting is healthy, and by god does he still have some good old flare ups on that suppressed anger he keeps under wraps a goos 80% of the time.

Meanwhile, Dan lets his bf try to be sneaky, it's funny to let him think this whole 'I can fix him' rabbit hole. It would make him angry usually, but Dick's so sincere about caring for him its just… nice bc it reminds him of the family that got taken away from him amusing instead. yeah, that. He goes along with these silly exercises and gets some dates out of it. Oh hey, is that a hobby he actually enjoys? huh, he thought he wasn't capable of those anymore, but whatever. He's pretending, alright? He knows he's a monster, and you can't just un-fuck a ghost, or something. They're all violent in some way or another, that's how they all are. He mentions as much to Jazz with a shrug, because well, its true.

Jazz, making use of her hard-won professionalism, keeps her lips sealed this time. She prods a little, keeps count, and watches as the two prowl around each other like a couple of cats learning to live together. She thinks they're good for each other; sure, codependency isn't something anything rometely positive on any other health professional standard, but this is a halfa ghost made out of two people, and a vigilante that protects the (second, now?) most crime-infested city in order somehow.

Dan CAN change, he just doesn't want to think about it, won't admit it. It's good that he's letting someone else help with things he can't; with his issues around people leaving him, pushing people away via anger, and control issues surrounding himself, it's a miracle he hears Dick out let alone allow him to sway his decisions. He trusts Dick to help. From her perch, Dan's whipped; but she won't be the one to say it, because she knows he's stubborn enough to try to prove her wrong. Jazz isn't going to put ideas in Dan very talented hands for self-destruction and be a homewrecker.

And Dick…? Jazz doesn't know him as well, and assuming is a pitfall, but she also kinda has to judge him a bit, she's dating one of her baby brothers after all. He sounds like he also has issues dealing with control, but on the other way around; it's not malicious trying to gain control of your life, but whenever that extends to others, people tend to fall on the tin balancing line between trying to be helpful and being overbearing. Dan giving Dick agency over some of his decisions probably soothes that sort of compulsive urges too. They keep each other from being a worse version of themselves, at least-- and on the better end (which is the one she hopes for) they'll probably keep developing routines that keep uplifting each other.

Danny would love to stop being Jazz's soundboard about Dan's love life with (the first robin!!! whoa!!) this Totally Random cop that didn't get the ACAB memo. He's SO ready to make popcorn for the inevitable day Vlad finds out his sort-of son is dating Brucie Wayne's son though; those two get along like oil and water.

(funny prompt)

Dick: Were you serious about becoming the final boss?

Dan: Ha ha. Do you think I'd go along with a sweet deal planned by someone else?

Dick: I don't think you did...

(Not sure if I really understood this prompt, but I had fun lol)

Dan: I would kill for you, Dick. I would tear apart this world and gift it to you on a silver plate with a necklace made of stars and a ring of sunlight. Whatever you want, it’s yours 😊

Dick: … okay. So could I ask you to not take over the world?

Dan: No ☺️ Make a list of who you want to save, I’ll spare those people, but that’s it.

Dick:

Dick: *flattered, horny, and very, very afraid*

[sangoqueenkoko]

ZHONGLI

it’s you.

part 1. part 2.

MAIN MASTERLIST | GEO MASTERLIST

.

Summary: You, the Dendro archon, went missing in the archon war. Zhongli has tried to find you, but has had no luck since.

Warnings? Nope!

Includes Traveler, Paimon, and of course Zhongli!

Again, thanks to azurebluesugar on wattpad for the help and support on this part.

Written time before 3.0 Sumeru was released! Where we didn’t have much information apart from lore.

"You will remember me if something happens, right? When this war is all over?" [Y/N], the Dendro archon, asked as she looked to her side, up at the Geo archon as he stood beside her. Stood slightly ahead of her, his arms crossed across his chest with his white cloaked hood up. Silent. He has always been a mysterious figure to her, yet knowledgeable.

"Of course I will," Lapis said in his usual low voice, still looking away. Sending a small, light shiver down her spine, yet she still stayed composed. He sighed, knowing that the current stirring situation could cost him anything or even everything. His homeland, his own life, or the life of his lover.

"Rex," she said in a low, quiet voice. He instantly turned to face her as he heard the shaking in her voice, eyes making contact. He saw the fear in her eyes that he wished he could take away from her. But knew he couldn't. That is what hurt him the most.

He gently put a warm hand on her cheek, his heart breaking for her. He wiped a tear away just before there was a sudden rustling from bushes and trees nearby, animals sensing her emotion retreating to safety, plants wilting to save their vulnerability, away from what was about to change everything.

And just before anything else could happen, loud sounds came from every direction. They both had to fight for themselves and their land. And only a grim outcome would be the result.

After years and years of the gods fighting, there was finally an agreement of peace. Rex Lapis spent the rest of his time searching for [Y/N]. While making his way through the lands on Sumeru, he noticed that all the once vibrant colours... were mostly still the same. Not much had wilted or died. And over time he heard nothing about it, there were no changes to the archon roles. Until a small finch came to him, he held up his hand and it gently perched on his finger. The only sound was of its small chirps, most were still in hiding.

This and his surroundings made him think, but his suspicions could not be confirmed.

After hundreds of years, the thoughts and memories of the war lingered in Morax's, now Zhongli's, mind. Always around the same time of year, you are on his mind. He wishes that he could find you and be with you again, know where you are and where you ended up after the war.

He wants things to be how they used to be between you two.

Not long before Rex Lapis' supposed passing, Zhongli met a young traveler that goes by the name Aether, along with his travelling companion, Paimon, in Liyue where he now resides.

Throughout the time they spent together, he told them more about the history of Liyue and how it became what it is today. Aether also mentioned the legend about the Dendro archon that used to watch over the nations as well as her own at the Wanwen Bookhouse. The more of you that was mentioned, the more Paimon got curious as she noticed Zhongli's sudden change in emotions.

"Um... Mr Zhongli?" She asked with her hands behind her back, Aether and Zhongli, who had a cup of tea in his hands, sat around the table at Third Round Knockout listening to the storyteller, "back at the bookhouse, we read in a book about Rex Lapis and someone else. What was their name?" she asked herself quietly, "Oh that was it, [Y/N]. Paimon wonders why the two were together a lot."

Zhongli averted his gaze away from them and sighed to himself as he put the cup down in front of him, he knew that he could not escape these thoughts, "it is ancient history. They are nothing more than a memory. A memory I deeply regret."

Aether and Paimon exchanged confused glances. Paimon shrugged.

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Posterity - part 2

Neil x gn!Reader

Chapter 2: Fireworks

(see chapter 1)

summary: New Year’s Eve. You promised your friend you would actually do some socializing, for a change. Let’s see how it goes.

warnings: some swearing, alcohol consumption

author’s note: even though this part of the story has been brewing in my mind for a good while, these two still found a way to surprise me.

3,2k words

The song for this chapter is Hazlett - Fireworks

I’m so grateful there’s so many of you still interested in stories about him. 

And, as always, all feedback is greatly appreciated. A penny for your thoughts?

----

“Wheeler. 8-1-9. Good evening, Operator.”

“Welcome, Agent. How may I assist you today?”

“I need a courier, but the cargo is too *sensitive* to use FedEx and we’re not done here yet.”

“Understood. How big is the parcel?”

“An old-fashioned suitcase? On the heavier side.”

“Copy. Please hold – …someone should be approaching your location any minute now. Anything else I can help you with?”

“I think I see them. Thanks, Operator.”

“Over and out.

—

The end of the year was slower. Most of the operatives were taking some family time, but that didn’t necessarily mean any fewer duties in the office. The teams planned their shifts around the holidays ahead, so everyone got time off when they needed it. You didn’t have any important personal obligations, although not being stuck behind the desk at midnight on New Year’s Eve was a nice perspective, especially since it looked like it was going to be a slow shift anyway.

And for the first time in years, you actually had something planned for the evening.

Might be because you’d promised Alex you would actually do some socializing.

Or because you had no other excuses as they’d accidentally told on you to your mutual friend, Sarah, who was hosting the party.

The effect was still the same - you were going out. It also meant out of your comfort zone, and that included at least a light knot in your stomach, but you kept reminding yourself it wasn’t like you wouldn’t know anyone there. You knew the hostess – …and yeah, that was pretty much it.

So a house full of strangers. Loud and questionable music, probably. Obligatory mingling, most definitely.

Maybe he was right and you were not as high-functioning as you’d like to think.

But first, before having second thoughts could make you cancel plans, you had to finish your work.

The doors clicked and you glanced up, only to see The Protagonist entering the office.

Not a rare sight, as the boss made an effort to personally check on you all from time to time. Always with a hearty smile plastered on his handsome face, and this day was no different.

“How’s my favorite team doing?”

“Favorite?” You smirked. “I bet you say that to all of them, boss.”

He grinned in response. “Doesn’t make it any less true.” You rolled your chair back slightly, and he gave you a small nod, perching on the edge of your desk as usual. “You a big fan of Elvis, Operator?”

Of course, he noticed.

“Not really,” you chuckled, but as he eyed you curiously, you felt that going into details was too much of a risk. Not that relations between office staff and agents were something frowned upon, or bringing personal items to the workspace was against regulations. Still. You simply shrugged. “Long story.”

“I bet it is,” pondered The Protagonist and arched a brow.

Alex could barely contain a knowing beam, so they tried to mask it with a cough and change of topic. “What’s new? Any special events incoming? Spill the tea, boss, to what do we owe this pleasure?”

He was not one to share anything of significance, and you knew the reason. The whole personnel did. Knowledge divided, and everything that came with the statement.

That was why you kept streaming cases back to other teams, after all - as a precaution.

“I just wanted to wish you all a happy New Year. And to tell you how much I appreciate you all.”

“Enough to give us a raise?” cut in Kraig.

He could be the most reserved out of you three, but he was always the one to spot and seize an opportunity.

The boss hummed, amused, then rapped his fingers against your desk and grinned smugly.

“How does 5% sound to you?”

“Make it 7 and we gotta keep that fav title just to ourselves,” said Alex, matching his expression.

“Deal.” The Protagonist reached out his hand and your friend shook it. Only then, he added, “Could have easily pushed for 10, you know.”

“Shit.”

He laughed, but as he slid off your desk, you caught a brief shadow clouding his features. Before you could bite your tongue, you asked quietly, “Everything okay, boss?”

Whatever was bothering him, got quickly hidden under a schooled expression and a trademark smile.

“Of course. Look at the time. Off you go, I bet you have better places to be.”

—

The house was crammed with people, all right. Loud music? Check, even if slightly less questionable than you’d expected.

Or that might have been that second drink in your hand talking.

The lights in the rooms were dimmed, which made it a little easier to navigate through people without getting into too many random conversations. Finally, you noticed a pretty empty area in the library; it looked like a promising spot to get a breather, finish your drink, maybe linger for a while longer and then take French leave.

You leaned against a wall with a quiet sigh. To hell with Alex, you’d socialized enough - and you could still make it back in time to watch fireworks from your apartment.

Laughter erupted somewhere nearby and your eyes landed on a small group of men on the other side of the room, lost in a jovial conversation you couldn’t quite hear. Among the overjoyed crew, however, there seemed to be a person stuck in a conundrum of politeness, captured in an unfortunate spot from where it was hard to make an exit - especially since one of the men standing the closest was quite grabby.

And you knew that unlucky bastard.

Technically, of course, because you’d never met in person before. You had the operatives’ faces and voices memorized, after all, and this one was hard to confuse with anyone else.

The photo in the files didn’t do his disheveled blonde mane justice, though.

And he was right there, almost empty glass in his hand, trying hard to focus on the conversation that was clearly boring him beyond comprehension.

Was it a conscious choice on your side? Or merely an instinct kicking in? You were about to ask yourself that many times later, but for now, you downed your drink and made your way to the noisy group.

“Neil, darling! Fancy meeting you here!” you gushed, squeezing yourself past the obnoxious-looking guy.

Neil gaped at you, perplexed.

“Hello,” he said with a cautious smile, a confused frown only deepened when you closed the gap between you to grant him a social kiss.

Perfectly hidden from the prying glances of his acquaintances, you went for your shot. “Do you need assistance?” you whispered as you brushed your cheek against his, hoping he would catch on fast enough.

Oh, he did.

“Jesus,” he breathed, and as you went for the other cheek, you saw how wide his eyes became for a second. “Get me out, please.”

“Right on.” You put on the most gracious smile, linked your elbow with Neil’s, and turned to the rest of the men. “Excuse us, gentlemen, the lady of the house needs this one in the kitchen, stat.”

Nothing too improbable, and you hadn’t seen Sarah for a while. The guys didn’t seem to mind, besides - no one sane would cross the hostess, even on a good day, and you were able to get out of their sight without too much of a bother.

You wanted to slip out of the hold as soon as the coast got clear, but Neil persistently kept you close as you marched towards the kitchen arm-in-arm.

The blue eyes swept through you up and down, as he was now the one to try to get the pieces together.

“How…?” he asked, and a sly smirk dangled in the corner of your lips.

“Habit.” You gestured vaguely, keeping your voice low and confidential. “I see an agent in distress, I come to help. Looked like you were about to drop dead from boredom out there.”

“Close call, yeah.”

“What was that conversation about?”

Neil rolled his eyes and sighed with exasperation.

“Sports.”

“Oh no, glad I could get you out in time, then,” you snorted and met his gaze, now lit with playful sparks.

“Me too.” He smiled and opened the kitchen door. As soon as you got inside, he stopped and put his hands on your arms, taking you in again. He dropped his head, scoffed, looked back at you, and squeezed your arms lightly, only then letting you go. “Sorry, I don’t mean to stare, but it’s so nice to finally put a face to the voice.”

“Ah, I already knew your face.” You grinned at his quirked eyebrow. “Might have seen your files, once or twice.”

“Blimey.” He beamed widely. “Shall we make it official?” he asked and reached out his hand. “Neil.”

You shook it and introduced yourself, earning a court nod in return.

There was no reason not to give him your name. It was a pleasantry, a custom, and you were both on neutral ground, after hours. Nothing inappropriate.

There was also that feeling you couldn’t quite describe. The apprehension you associated with newly met people was missing, instead, it felt like you’d actually known each other for years. Like his presence brought a certain comfort, even

But again, you were two drinks in, and about to fix yourself another one.

You looked around the neat, shabby chic kitchen, oddly empty of people - seeing as kitchens were usually one of the most favorite places to hang around at home parties. It was a rather pleasant breather to your overstimulated brain, even if you could still hear the music blasting in the adjacent room. Doubly so, now that you spotted a makeshift cocktail station prepared on the kitchen island.

“How about a refill?” You asked, pointing at the glass in Neil’s hand, as you walked towards the counter. “Vodka tonic?”

He squinted suspiciously. “Don’t tell me that my drink of choice was also included in the files.”

“Imagine that.” Laughing, you shook your head. “No, I saw you drinking something transparent, and judging by the fine selection of ingredients here, and assuming it wasn’t water–”

“You guessed it, all right.” Neil sent you an amused grin and watched as you prepared drinks for you both. “You like more color to your beverages, I see.”

“Can’t go wrong with something fruity,” you said, handing him his glass and topping a splash of vodka in yours with orange juice. “At least as long as it’s on the sour side, that is. Cheers!”

The glasses clinked and you perched on the bar stools together. “So how did you end up here?”

“I’ve known Steve since uni. He always invites me, but I’m rarely in town. I didn't have any plans, and it seemed better than staying in another sad hotel room.” Neil paused and took a sip of his drink, partially to hide a hint of a bitter grimace. But as he rolled his shoulders and glanced back at you, a light smile played on his lips again. “Thought I might give it a shot. You?”

“I know Steve’s other half. And same - she keeps inviting me, and apparently, there's a finite amount of excuses you can use before someone takes offense.” You made a face and scoffed softly into your glass.

Humorous sparks lit up his eyes. “Not a big fan of socializing?”

“Depends on the crowd,” you admitted, and he nodded without an ounce of judgment. This evening had proven your point to him, after all.

The song in the background changed. Neil perked in his seat, and when the realization dawned on you, your mouth fell open in astonishment.

“This is not happening.”

Neil raised his hands and choked out through laughter, “I had nothing to do with this, I swear.”

You chewed on your lip, trying to stifle a hysterical giggle, then squeezed your eyes shut. What are the chances…?

“Wanna dance?”

A warning siren blazing in your mind was loud enough to get through the music, and you stopped swaying your foot to the rhythm instantly.

“I don’t dance–” you began, but suddenly the kitchen doors flew open and the familiar buoyant group of men rolled into the kitchen, irreversibly tainting the peace of the space with their obnoxious noisiness. Neil’s face dropped at the sight, and you ground your teeth as you bit back the rest of the sentence. You took his hand and finished the rest of your drink in one swig. “Okay, come on.” Then you led him to the other room, and he held onto your hand until you found a little bit of space in the crowded dance floor area.

//Baby, close your eyes and listen to the music

Drifting through a summer breeze

It's a groovy night and I can show you how to use it

Come along with me and put your mind at ease//

Maybe that was the solution, you thought as you swallowed hard through rising nervousness. The music blasted through the speakers loud enough to tune out the internal litany of curses, and you let it wash over you.

And you let it go.

Luckily, Neil’s carefree vibe was so effortless to match, because he didn’t take himself too seriously on the dance floor as well. Soon enough, you both sang along to the lyrics, making silly faces while you danced off each other as if you played to the longest inner joke The Universe had granted you.

The utter joy that resonated between you. Expanding your chest, bringing the biggest smile to your face. Making everything easy. That was why one song turned into two, three, and then you stopped counting, so even when the choice of tunes took turn into trashy classics, you had so much unapologetic fun that you didn’t want it to stop.

None of you did.

Finally, DJ switched tempo, and you fell into each other’s arms, giggling uncontrollably while you tried to catch your breaths.

“So, Elvis,” you said, attempting to school your features enough to wipe the idiotic grin off your face.  

Neil took your hand in his, the other one placed on your waist. “Could be worse.”

“You think?” you snickered, then followed him instinctively as you gently swayed to the music together.

“Well, he has some of the most beautiful love songs in the world.”

When you searched his eyes, you found something sincere shining through the playfulness. It caught you off-guard and a new kind of warmth pooled inside you, one that didn’t have much to do with dancing the last half an hour away.

“Careful, or they’re gonna revoke your British passport.”

He scrunched his nose and shrugged dismissively.

“Well, you’d get me a new one, right?”

“Right.” And although you laughed - because how could you not, so close to that contagious smile of his - the familiar knot tightened in your stomach.

The word bounced around inside your head, making you painfully aware of the situation.

Right, right, right, right, right.

Only that it wasn’t.

Even if it felt very much so up to this moment.

Neil’s voice snapped your attention back to him. “It’s almost midnight,” he said. “That balcony should make for a nice spot if you want to watch fireworks.” With the way studied your expression, you were almost sure he noticed your sudden mood swing.

“Sure, let’s go.” You forced a little smile. “Let me just grab my coat.”

The air was crisp, sobering.

With the anticipation palpable all around you, it was hard not to think about what another year was about to bring. You weren’t one to let anxiety roam free, you couldn’t be efficient at your work if you were. Instead of worrying, it was better to act, but maybe it was the alcohol mixed with the heaviness you felt after that last bit of conversation, perhaps prompted even earlier by the boss visiting your office. All combined together rang in a deep sigh, almost forcefully pushed through your tightened chest.

Neil shot you a curious glance. “Feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders?”

“Don’t you, sometimes?” you asked, sending him one back. “With all the saving it requires?”

He looked at the city skyline, pondering over your question for a while.

“Everyone has a responsibility towards a slice of reality they live in.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “Ours just happens to be a little bigger.”

“A whole goddamn cake,” you snorted. “That inverted entropy really makes the flavor pop though, huh?”

He met your eyes, his own lit up with amusement, and hummed, “It sure does.”

Someone next to you started the countdown, and when it got to zero and the world around erupted in cheers and blasting lights, you found yourself in Neil’s arms, and it was all that mattered at that moment.

It was ‘good luck next year’ and so much more. It was ‘I see you, and you are not alone'. The tight embrace of ‘so good to be next to someone who gets it’. And warmth. Immense comfort. Safety. Two souls touching and recognizing each other in a mad world, sharing a gleam of peace among the people unaware of the stakes.

When you pulled back, you exchanged a soft smile and turned to watch the fireworks, arms pressed together as if to prolong the contact.

The rest of the party went by fast. You found a relatively quiet place, sat down with drinks, and talked about everything and nothing in particular, simply enjoying each other’s company. As much as you did your best to stay present and not let anything break the spell too soon, it was bound to happen at some point.

And it did, just as you stepped outside the building and were about to call it a night.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?” asked Neil as he walked you to an Uber. “Not now, obviously, but-”

The heart sank in your chest as you cut in, “Listen, I-” There was only one way to say this, even if it went against any reason after a night like that. And he wasn’t making it any easier, looking at you with brows knitted together in gentle concern. “Back in the kitchen, what I’ve been meaning to say was that I don’t dance...with my agents. I’m so sorry if I lead you on tonight.” You held his gaze with bated breath, scanning for any switch in the behavior.

“Not at all.” There wasn’t any. Instead, Neil gave you a reassuring smile, his eyes never losing light shining bright inside them. “Thanks for making this night fun. And for saving me.”

“Of course. It was nice to meet you, Agent,” you said and reached out your hand.

He drew a bottom lip between his teeth and chuckled. “You too, Operator. Have a good night.” As he shook your hand, his thumb stroked it ever so slightly. “Happy New Year.”

Alone in your own bed, you could still feel that soft brush against your skin. His light stubble on your cheek. The heat of his body. His scent, fresh and warm in its citrus and woody undertones. The arms wrapped around you.

Those memories could possibly haunt you, only deepening that hollow pit inside of you.

But for now, you didn’t care, because that night you were falling asleep with a smile on your face.

Somehow feeling less alone in the world.

---------

And that was enough.

(next chapter->)

taglist: @hollandorks ​ @neilsgirl91 @thecraziestcrayon

[a-detraque-barista]

Sweet Milk Tea

Jeon Jungkook x Shy Reader

Genre: s m u t, 18+, college, soft boi gguk

Word Count:1.8k+

Warnings: big dicc kook, unprotected sex, sensitive thighs??, insecurity (you and jungkook), jungkook enjoys eating you out a lil too much

A/N: wassup my honey buns~ just thought i’d drop this filthy self-indulgent trash here and leave until one of my wips get done...this is straight smut and very little plot :D

“At least I don’t go around parading my dick to all the girls in our course!” your voice cracked but it somehow didn’t throw off the menacing tone.

Everyone looked at you as if you were mental. You couldn’t blame them, it was the first time they had ever heard your voice. The first time you had snapped at anybody in front of them, or in general.

You weren’t one for talking to people you didn’t know very well. It just didn’t come as naturally as it did for others. It’s made you a societal recluse and most of the time, you didn’t mind it. And the looks on your classmates’ faces gave you a major confidence boost. 

“At least people actually like me,” the asshole known as Jungkook hissed.

And there goes that confidence. Sure, you always claimed you don’t care about what other people think. However, just like any other human, we want someone to like us to create friendships and relationships. 

Just like that, you walked out of the classroom and down the long hallway as if it was a normal day.  The only thing different, you had tears in your eyes that were threatening to fall at any moment.

As you were just walking out of one of the exits, you felt someone grab your shoulder and pull you back. Your face met a solid chest, noticing the black leather jacket, you knew exactly who it was. When you went to pull away his arms tightened refusing to let go. 

“I’m sorry.”

❦❦❦

Jungkook had you pinned beneath him on his bed. How this happened was a mystery. You had agreed to go to his apartment because he wanted to give you a sincere apology. What you said was over the line as well so you agreed. Everything was fine and dandy until syrup for the milk tea had splashed on your face and neck, even ending up on your shirt.

Seeing you in his shirt had Jungkook growing an erection. You just looked so cute, so fuckable. His cock decided it was time for Jungkook’s wet dreams to come true. 

Especially now with such a bratty look on your face, all he needed was a solid yes, “Tell me, my love. Do you want me?”

You nodded, already wanting to feel him. Jeon Jungkook was sex on legs and you refused to admit how many times you’ve thought about him with your hand down your pants. He clicked his tongue, “I need your words.”

“I want you, Jungkook.”

Hearing his name come from your lips, had a shutter going down his spine. His lips crashed into yours as he firmly pressed his muscular thigh against your clothed pussy. He swallowed your gasps and quiet whimpers. Gradually, Jungkook applied more pressure but now he was rubbing his thigh back forth. 

You were trying so hard to hold back your moans and whimpers making the man above you smirk into the kiss. Even as he pulled away breathless, he had that grin on his face. Your sounds were stroking his ego at this point leading him to lick and kiss your neck to see what else can make such adorable noises leave you. 

He could still taste the remnants of the syrup on your skin. He was so very tempted to lick every part of your neck, just to make sure all of it was gone. But he removed his shirt from you instead. Placing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and neck, leaving behind a trail of purple and red marks.

You could feel your clit throbbing, begging for more attention. Jungkook could feel your hips move, creating friction against his bulge. He groaned before ripping your bra apart and began palming your breasts. He wanted you so bad but he didn’t want to rush things.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if you would wake up tomorrow and never want to see him again. He wanted to make sure even if you do want to forget about him, you won’t be able to forget the way he made you feel. His insecure thoughts were interrupted once he noticed you squirming from the addition of his muscles flexing.

You were still keeping as much noise in as possible. Jungkook wondered how much teasing it would take until you gave up. With a grin he trailed his hands down your body, squeezing every now and then. One particular squeeze of your upper thighs had made you gasp. He froze before gently digging the tips of his fingers into the area causing you to whine. 

He wanted to hear you whine again and again. 

Jungkook finally tucked his fingers into the waistline of your jeans and panties and slid them completely off. Your lips were glistening and puffy. He couldn’t help but flatten his tongue and dragged it between your folds. Jungkook’s eyes rolled back into his skull at just the taste of you. The moan that escaped your lips didn’t help his grip on sanity. 

With his control slipping, he started sucking and slurping like he was a man starving. Now you could no longer hold back your moans. And they only encouraged Jungkook even more. He kept his hands busy with massaging the upper part of your thighs making your moans sound whinier. His grip was sure to leave bruises for you to find in the next few days, reminding you of your time with the inky-haired boy.

Jungkook reluctantly let one of your thighs go to slowly slip his index finger into your tight pussy. Moving his mouth up to your clit he licked and suckled to his heart’s content. Your hands found their place in his raven curls, slightly tugging making Jungkook growl.

He couldn’t keep himself from bucking his hips into the mattress to get some kind of friction. He moaned into your pussy as he inserted a second finger. Gently stretching you so you can take him with as little pain as possible. Soon he added a third and picked up the speed he was thrusting at. You began to feel the tell-tale knot in your lower abdomen and Jungkook felt the way you started to quiver.

Right before the knot came undone, he pulled away. But he didn’t pull away enough to make your fingers leave his hair, which you tugged on in frustration.

“Jungkook damn it, I almost came,” you groaned taking your hands away from his scalp to perch yourself up on your elbows. He grumbled with the absence of your hands but loved the attitude you showed. So he sat back on his heels while running his hands along your thighs.

“But I didn’t want you to come just yet, my love. Be patient and I’ll give exactly what you want,” his deepened voice made the blush come back to your face full force. 

Licking his lips, he started to undress. Shirt, pants, and underwear made their way to the floor. His cock sprung up and leaked precum. It was enough for him to slick his dick with, stroking it just for more precum to escape.

Jungkook would love to see your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, gagging on it. But both of you have waited long enough. He tucked his hands under your waist and flipped you onto your stomach, lifting until your hands and knees held you up. The bulbous head pressed through your lips and against your entrance. You were so wet for him, making both his cock and your cunt glisten.

You wiggled your hips a bit, the anticipation beginning to become too much. He chuckled before pushing in. Jungkook took his time, making sure to stretch you out properly. Shifting his hips back every inch before pushing in more than he had previously. 

Never having taken such a girthy and long cock, the sting felt delicious as it made your walls form to his dick perfectly. The slight curve of his shaft made the head rub against that one special spot. Your breathy moans got louder the farther he went in. Jungkook growled and groaned above you. 

Once his cock completely sheathed inside of you, grating his hips against your ass felt like he was trying to go even deeper. Jungkook thrusted slow and shallow, wanting to let you get adjusted. When you pushed back he got the hint and pulled out farther only to slam back into your tight cunt.

His head rolled back as he gradually picked up his pace but it snapped back up hearing your load and wanton moans. God, why did you have to sound wonderful? He wanted to make you moan so much your throat would get raw. Your arms could no longer hold yourself up, causing you to be muffled by his pillows. Jungkook didn’t appreciate the decreased volume of your beautiful sounds so he wrapped his arms under your tits and just above your mound. 

His pace quickened as did his breaths, “Look at you, getting destroyed by my cock. What a mess. Can’t even stop moaning for me.”

You whined in response to his words as you could no longer create coherent sentences. It was almost becoming too much, your denied release coming back even harder. Jungkook’s pace became sloppy, the build-up paying off.

“Want my cum? Tell me, what do you want? Use that pretty mouth of yours,” Jungkook’s voice was now gravelly as he reached down to your clit but didn’t apply pressure.

“Please-please, I want your cum,” you gasped out, barely audible, but he accepted that.

Jungkook made quick, fast circles around your clit, causing your whole body to shake as your walls clenched and milked his cock. Feeling you tighten and quiver, Jungkook’s cock twitched and painted your walls. He laid both of you down, grinding his hips against yours until your cunt sucked him dry. He made sure not to put all of his weight on you while the two of you came down from cloud nine. 

Jungkook kissed the nape of your neck before moving down to your shoulder. He couldn’t help but love the feeling of you breathless beneath him. The feeling of you both spent and tired together, trying to catch your breaths. Jungkook was reluctant to pull his softening cock out of you but he did nonetheless. 

Leaving the room to get a damp cloth and clean the two of you up. You rolled onto your side facing him after he laid back down, also on his side. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. He could see the look on your face that held uncertainty. His mind went to the thought of you regretting ever coming to his apartment. Until you spoke.

“I’m sure you want me to leave now right?”

Jungkook’s eyes widening, just now seeing the insecurity in your eyes. He sighed as he leaned down to gingerly kiss your lips, “No, I want you to stay. Unless you want to leave.”

You shook your head and kissed his nose, “I wanna stay, until you don’t want me to.”

He chuckled before cuddling up with you and pulled the covers over, “Good thing I never want you to.”

[yeahimaloser]

Hi lovely! I adore your writing style and noticed you were taking requests. This is my first request ever so if it comes off a little awkward please forgive me! 👉👈

I was hoping for a scenario where Hawks has been wondering why y/n has been skipping out on get-togethers with him for the past week or two. He gets curious enough one day that he just-so-happens to patrol the area where you run off to after you reject another date with him.

He finds out that you have been going to an outdoor avian clinic and taking classes on how to pamper/massage or preen bird wings in order to surprise Hawks for your anniversary coming up.

But not like totally before Hawks confronts you and blurting out “Have you been cheating on me with a parrot?” 😂

Thank you! I hope this all makes sense. Hugs and kisses!

Hello there!! You are so sweet! and you didn’t come off awkward at all! <3

I am so sorry I didn’t actually mean for this to become an angst fic in the beginning ;-; 

but it is fluffy don’t worry!

warnings: avian Keigo (Keigo having bird like tendencies)

Also I schedule this to be a bit later than I normally post, I’ll most likely be asleep when this goes up so I just wanted to say to everyone thank you for reading!!

word count: 3.3k

------

He tapped his foot against the floor of the restaurant, his patience deteriorating every second as he stared at the door.

As the fastest hero, Keigo never really had any patients for just about anything. One thing he hated more than anything was people being late, he moved fast, he wanted people to move fast with him.

All he wanted to do was go on a nice date night, have some dinner, and go home and watch a movie or something. He just wanted to spend time with you.

You normally never skipped out on dates, so why now? 

He had noticed your absence in the last few weeks, more and more you would skip out on him. 

The anxiety bubbling in his heart was starting to spill over, seeping into his attitude in daily life. In his head, he wondered if maybe you were trying to signal to him that you weren’t interested in dating anymore, that maybe you were just silently drifting from him. But he loved the 11 months he got to spend with you, he’d never experienced anything like it. It was fresh, new, loving, he didn’t want it to end. Those thoughts had made him feel miserable for the last week or so, but he was still confused by you. Although you skipped out on dates and such, you still acted so lovingly towards him. You would still come home and snuggle up to him, you would still run your fingers through his hair at night, you would still talk mindlessly about your day, as though nothing was remotely bothering you.

So, maybe you really were busy, perhaps he was just looking too much into the issue.

But still, getting stood up for the 4th time in a row would make anyone a bit upset. 

He left the restaurant, paying for the drink he had ordered, and went on his way home.

Maybe it was a side effect of his quirk, but when he had these sorts of thoughts his wings would get all twitchy. He had done the research and found that when birds were in a high-stress situation they plucked at their feathers. The article also said that when a person that said a bird was attached to someone that abandons them, they get even more stressed and irritated. Which he supposed made sense. He would never admit it to very many people, (and if the press got a hold of it he would honestly shoot himself) but he had some bird tendencies.

Not big ones, just small ones.

He would bob his head in time with music sometimes, his pupils would dilate and contract when he was concentrating on something, he would mindlessly coo and cluck randomly as well.

Luckily, the commission taught him to control his bird-like tendencies, they told him that some of his bird traits were “off-putting”. But he really wasn’t sure what they were talking about, animal quirks weren’t uncommon, but he didn’t complain, he didn’t mind the help. 

But since he’s been dating you, he found himself getting more and more of these tendencies.

A few times, he would find random shiny objects and give them to you, he acted all excited about it too, saying, “I saw it and thought that you could keep it! It’s super pretty so, I don’t know, I thought you’d think it was cool.” After he said that, you just took the objects and told him he was so adorable. 

Another time, when you two were just out and about, he had seen you talk to someone with a similar bird quirk to his. He didn’t even know what came over him, but he squawked at the man, effectively freaking him and you out.

He apologized profusely after that. 

There was one bird-like quality he didn’t mind all that much, and that was the preening of his feathers. It was honestly so relaxing, the dirt and dust from flying seeped into his feathers, so he always found himself soaking his wings in water and then rubbing them with a special kind of oil.

There were some days, however, were all he could do (or all he had time to do) was take a warm towel and gently rub off his feathers. 

And lately, he had found himself going overboard with his preening, pulling more aggressively at his feathers, sometimes even hurting himself. He suspected that it was due to the stress of worrying about what was wrong with you (or him).

He hated all of it, loathed it even. Worse was how hard it was for him to broach the subject with you, whenever he got close he always wussed out. In his mind, even though it bothered him, he didn’t want to lose you. He was so scared that if he brought it up he would hear something he dreaded, and you two would fall apart. 

He loved you so much, he wanted you to stay with him. Another bird trait he learned, some birds mated for life, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel that way about you. He just...he didn’t want to lose you.

There was one possibility that was the worst, and yet the most likely. You had been cheating on him.

He really didn’t want to admit it, but it all sort of added up.

You skipped out on dates so you could go out with this other person. When you would become affectionate with him could be a sign of guilt, he read about that online. And the way you wouldn’t see his texts or missed calls when he knew you were on a lunch break, maybe you were seeing someone else. 

Was he a bad boyfriend? He thought that he had become better at this whole relationship stuff, maybe not perfect, but he was getting there. He knew he was hard to deal with, he wished he could be better for you, he really did. He knew he was busy a lot, tired from work, he knew he wasn't the most affectionate guy, but he wanted you, he wanted you so much it hurt.  Keigo thought that you loved him because he really loved you. 

The thought of having to let you go crushed his heart crushed his spirit too. He really did care for you, he knew that you were the one for him, so the thought of you not returning that feeling hurt him.

He flew through the night sky, looking down at the lights of the city. Normally, a sight like this would have made him smile, made him feel like he was on top of the world.

But his wings just felt uncomfortable, the wind blowing through them just increased the feeling. 

He just felt… done. Like the whole world felt heavy to him. Maybe he really was overthinking everything, but he couldn’t help it, he was made to be observant. 

He knew he had a strange habit of over-complicating things, but it was just his nature he supposed. A trained government agent always has to look into the fine details, at least, that's what he was taught. So, with your absence, he found himself becoming more and more paranoid.

He brought it up to his side-kicks and hero friends, and they all said the same thing; he was just being paranoid. They told him that, “sometimes in relationships, things get a little rough, it happens.” But Keigo couldn’t help but hate the whole ordeal.

He sighed, flying faster to his home.

One time, he had tried to follow you on your lunch break. He supposed it was pretty stalkerish, but he was getting desperate. All he needed was reassurance, just to know if you were actually busy or if that had been a bullshit excuse. He told himself it wasn’t a huge deal, he was just making sure you were doing ok.

...ok maybe it was a bit of a breach of privacy.

He had perched himself on top of a building near your workplace. Keigo had made sure that you wouldn’t be able to see him as he followed you, keeping out of sight as best he could.

His initial thought was you would go to a coffee shop, maybe some sort of expensive restaurant if you were meeting someone. 

Yet, to his surprise, he saw you scarf down a sandwich as you entered an animal clinch.

Were you cheating on him with an animal clinch employee?

He wanted to confront you then and there, but from where he was, he didn’t have any reason to.

It looked innocent enough, you were just going to an animal clinch.

He immediately felt guilty. There was no reason for him not to trust you, you had done nothing wrong in this situation. Maybe you really were working overtime and he was just overthinking everything.

He shook his head, sighing, he unfolded his wings and flew off the building he was perched on.

That was a week ago, it was after the third time you stood him up. And now, although he didn’t have any proof of you cheating, he still felt like he had a reason to confront you. He just felt sick of worrying and overthinking everything, and in all honesty, you weren’t helping the situation. Every time he asked you about it, you always came up with some sort of excuse. 

He landed on his balcony with a loud thump, not caring all that much about the noise. 

As he entered his home, he lifted the hem of his shirt off his head, throwing it on the floor unceremoniously. Walking over to the bathroom, he filled a special bowl full of water and made his way back over to the bed.

It was probably a bad idea to preen himself when he was so aggravated like this, but he wanted to do it, his wings felt so uncomfortable. 

His right-wing raised a bit as he sat down, pulling the feathered stump closer to him.

But before he could even graze the feathers with a damp cloth he had, he heard the front door open and close.

Before he had even realized it, he was already zooming down the staircase of his luscious penthouse, knowing full well you were already inside of his home.

“Hi honey,” you slipped your shoes off, not looking at him yet. “How was your day- Oh,” he crossed his arms over his chest, he was sure his expression was one of utmost anger. 

“Where were you,” his tone was irritated, his wings twitched behind him.

“I was working. Baby what's wrong,” he nearly rolled his eyes at your concerned tone.

“Don’t baby me, you stood me up,” he huffed, “again.” 

He didn’t miss the sorry expression that flashed on your face, “Kei, I’m sorry, I really am. I’ve just been so busy lately. I know I haven’t been fair to you, but I’m not doing anything tomorrow! Look I’ll even make dinner for you, ok? Really, Kei, I’m ”

“Y/N,” here it came, “if your gonna break up with me, just do it already

Well, that certainly shocked you (and him if he was being honest). Your whole expression fell into one of confusion, your eyes looked up at him with genuine hurt.

“What? Keigo what are you talking about? You’re not making any sense, why would I want to break up with you?”

“I don’t know Y/N?! Why have you been avoiding me for so long!?”

You sighed, “Is that what this is all about? Well,” you pulled out some sort of form, reaching it out to him, “here, I wanted to surprise you on our anniversary, but I don’t want you to think that I’m doing something dishonest.”

He snatched the piece of paper out of your hand, maybe a bit too harshly. He looked at it and was immediately confused.

It was information on a class about… how to preen birds?

He gave you a confused look, to which you gave him a light smile, “I see how frustrating it is for you to preen them, so I wanted to help out. I saw that I could learn how and thought it would be a cute thing for us to do together.”

He stood in shock for a few moments, letting the guilt wash over him. 

“I-I’m so sorry.”

You chuckled a bit, “Don’t be, it was wrong of me to leave you high and dry on dates, I just had to work overtime in order to get these classes in.”

Now, he felt twice as guilty.

This whole time he had thought you were drifting away from him, and worse, he thought you were cheating on him. He felt sick. His friends were right, he really was overthinking the whole situation. And worst of all, you were working overtime to do something so nice for him, and here he was, yelling at you.

“I-I’m so sorry, Y/N. Jesus,” he shook his head, “I’m an idiot. You were off doing something so thoughtful for me, and I was being a prick, yelling at you. I’m sorry honey. Is there something I can do to make it up to you?” 

But you just chuckled, “Keigo, really, it’s ok. I should have at least done something to convince you, or rescheduled our dates. It’s ok honey, don’t feel bad.”

You moved in to give him a hug, which just happened to be the moment you realized his shirt was missing.

“Uh,” he saw your body straighten up, and your face makes a flustered expression, “why is your shirt…”

“Oh, well,” he scratched his feathers nervously, “it’s kinda funny, I was just about to preen my wings. So I have to take off my shirt in order to get the water to the back. Kind of a weird coincidence, huh.”

“Well,” you looked at him, eyes softening, “can I help?”

Keigo was sure his heart had frozen, after a moment or two, he answered, “S-sure.”

-----

You pulled a stool for him to sit on as you sat down on the bed.

Keigo wasn’t sure why, but he felt so anxious. To tell the truth, he never really had someone preen his wings before. He would always do it himself, it was an annoying effort sometimes, but the commission was very big on him looking good for the public eye.

His wings weren’t super sensitive, but the light touches of your fingers running through them felt like pure heaven to him. The sensation was like having someone giving a message, but… different. It felt nicer, more loving, more slow and nice.

The whole sensation made him shutter.

“Is this ok,” he didn’t miss the anxiety in your tone.

“Yeah,” he said, breathlessly. “Perfect, keep...keep doing that babe.”

The little pulls of his feathers relaxed him more and more, making him seep into the back of the stool he was sitting on.

When you had started to add water to the mix, he didn’t notice his cooing.

“Kei?”

“Hmm,” his mind was so far gone in the relaxation of your hands that he barely registered your voice.

“Are you cooing,” you had to suppress your smirk as his body went rigid, as well as his wings.

“I,” his face was almost as deep red as his wings, “s-sorry.”

You giggled, “Don’t apologize,” you pressed softly into the apex of some of his feathers, “if it feels good, it’s fine if you coo. I won't judge you.”

Softly, he let out a few coos, but he didn’t want to freak you out.

But soon, he realized he couldn’t keep them in, you were just doing so well. 

You moved softly to grab his feather oil, “Uh, so how does this even work? Do I take a few drops and run them through each individual feather or something?”

You’ve seen him preen his wings before, but until recently you had just started to pay attention to how he exactly did them. You had noticed that the oil he used on his feathers gave a shine to the red plumage, but you had noticed he was a bit cautious with the serum.

“O-oh,” you didn’t miss the light stutter and the soft up-take of his voice, “Um, if you want you can just put a few drops in your hand and rake them through. You don’t have to do each one if you don’t want to.”

You thought for a moment, “Alright, I think I’ll just do each feather. I wanna get this right after all.”

And, honest to god, Keigo gulped.

You’ve never seen him this relaxed and yet so tense, you would have thought he was drugged. You would be lying if you didn’t enjoy it though, the way Keigo melted into you, it was weirdly adorable.

“Yeah,” he let out, “yeah ok.”

After that, it was like Keigo could barely talk. 

For a moment, you considered something. When you and Keigo had started to date, you had noticed how he was a bit touch-starved. He craved affection, whether he was aware of this or not, you weren’t sure.

But it made sense, his childhood past, and plus, this was his first real relationship. You wondered if Keigo had ever been shown so decent, honest love before.

Perhaps his bird instincts also played a part in how affectionate he could be. You read once, that when male birds became attached to their mates they tended to get affectionate as well as loving. Plus, some birds preened their mates as a show of love, you wondered if what Keigo was doing was just his way of showing how happy he was with you preening him.

After you were done, Keigo’s head was light and tired. The whole experience for him felt magical, he wasn’t sure why though. He preened himself a bunch of times, why was this the first time he felt this way?

But Keigo’s head couldn’t really process the question at the moment.

“You wanna go to sleep,” you asked, bringing your hands lightly over his shoulders, kissing his forehead.

He let out a small, “Mhm,” as he stood up. You had to help him to his bed because of how wobbly he was.

After you carefully helped him into bed, you turned to go to the bathroom to wash your hands, but Keigo dragged you down.

“No,” he whined softly as you tried to get out of his grip, “cuddles.”

(You couldn’t lie, this had to be the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen him do)

He nuzzled into you, his body flushed against yours. 

That’s when you heard it, the little chips. You didn’t say anything, scared that if you did he would stop. You played with his hair as he chirped into your neck, his wings shivered a bit.

You decided to ask him, “Hey, Kei.”

He hummed lightly.

“I’ve never seen you like this, does it have something to do with your bird instincts?”

Keigo thought for a moment, “Maybe,” his voice was light you noticed, “it could be. Kinda just something I experience because that’s what birds do with their...mates.”

You chuckled, running your hands through his wings again, “Maybe it’s because you're also, like, really touch starved.”

“Oh yeah, maybe. I mean,” he looked at you, like a lovesick puppy, “you are my first time in a real relationship.”

You laughed lightly, going back to lightly stroking his hair and feathers.

“Hey Y/N,” Keigo’s voice was tired, and yet, it was soft.

“Yeah honey,” you asked in an equally gooey voice.

He nuzzled in closer to you, giving you a soft, yet deep kiss, “I love you.”