#and i am probably under a week out from finishing my first pair of socks

[mademoisellesarcasme]

it's 1am on Christmas eve and I'm full of crafting hubris energy but i need to sleep

[twincaptains]

Obsequium: Part I: Chapter Two - Dipper's September

TITLE: Obsequium Part I: Chapter Two: Dipper’s September PAIRINGS:  Dipford (Ford x Dipper), Bipford, (Bipper x Ford), regular Billford (Bill x Ford) Pinecest (Dipper x Mabel), Stancest, (Stan x Ford), and possibly others. SUMMARY: Dipper writes to Mabel about his experiences back in Gravity Falls. He’s learning a lot! He is also suffering. I’m not sure he’s okay, actually. NOTES: I am posting to Tumblr for now, but eventually will be cross-posting to Ao3. I am in line to get an account, and should have one by the end of the month. Warnings for this chapter – as well as for the rest of the story – under the cut!

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Drug abuse, caregiver neglect, mind control OVERALL WARNINGS: Incest, sibling incest, minor, coercive control, mind control, caregiver neglect, physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, dubious consent (dubcon), body horror, suicidal ideation, food restriction, sleep deprivation, self-harm, drug abuse, being drugged, lost time, and I’m going to specifically going to warn for “Ford being cruel to Stanley”, because it made me upset when I wrote it so I want to warn for it. If I forgot anything, please let me know and I will fix it IMMEDIATELY. I will add more if anything else comes up.   Chapter One is here!!

-

Sunday, September 4th Heyyyy Mabel!

I'm currently trudging around the woods looking for the source of a mysterious voice. What could go wrong, right? In all seriousness this thing is getting annoying. We'd at least like to find the source, if not a way to get it to be quiet.

I miss you already. It's kinda the worst. Even worse, I can't say that out loud or I'll get a stupid lecture. I love Great Uncle Ford, I really do, but he relates to other people the way a zookeeper relates to their animals. I'm not sure he's ever actually really loved anyone or anything. If he did, he forgot how along the way. I get that he's probably done that to protect himself, but what happens when we finish our work and there's nobody there to clap? I'm slowly trying to reason with him, but he is stubborn. More stubborn than Grunkle Stan, if you can believe that.

I'm really sorry I talked your ear off about that girl I have a crush on. I just hoped you knew what I should do, because I certainly don't. It's true, I can't ever tell her. She can never ever know how I feel. I think I'd literally die, and she'd never speak to me again and I don't think I could handle that. I get to spend so little time around her already that I don't want to risk it. Still. I can't stop thinking about her, even now, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, with wet socks and a dwindling supply of trail mix. So I figured ... hey. Why not write to Mabel?

I'm going to try and be more consistent with my letters this fall. I know I tend to sink into my work and time gets away from me, but I've already sat down and marked days in my planner to set time aside to write to you. I've also set eight million reminders in my PDA. Rumor has it that we might be getting an upgraded cell tower in town soon, which means I'll FINALLY be able to TIMEFACE you like a PROPER RESIDENT of the TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY!!!!!

I hope you're doing well in school; I know that math is hard but I believe in you. You just have to try your best, that's all. Your best is always good enough.

Anyway, back to the woods. Hurrah.

Love, Dip

-

Thursday, September 8th

S'up S'up S'up Maaaaaaaaaybeeeeee

So my week has already been weird. Apparently while I was gone, Great Uncle Ford made me this wild VR helmet that's helping me get my mind off that girl I like. I have to admit, it's kinda weird? It's function and purpose is actually a little dystopian, if I'm being honest, but it's really doing the trick for me right now so I'll question it years later when I'm unpacking this portion of my life to a therapist.

It's really freed up my mind in a way that I never thought was possible. Do you remember me telling you I was stuck on some of my school stuff? I got through it this afternoon no problem, like I'd known how to do it the entire time. Breakthroughs like that feel amazing, and are why I keep trying even when I'm struggling with something. I don't know how much I can credit to the VR helmet, or how much to credit myself, but somewhere in the middle I'm really starting to get a grip over here. As long as I don't trip and fall, I should be golden.

Bill's influence is still all over the place. I really hate it. I have tried, time and time again, to talk to Great Uncle Ford about my experiences with Bill and how they've messed me up, but he doesn't really seem interested. Or rather, it makes him actively uncomfortable. I don't know what he's hiding about his relationship with Bill, but it makes him want to throw up. I don't know who he thinks he's fooling, but it’s kinda obvious, right? Am I imagining things? They had a thing, right? Why wouldn't he want me to know that? We also had a thing ... sorta ... it's not like I wouldn't understand??? He just doesn't want to tell me too much. He doesn’t trust me.

Why not??????

I've worked insanely hard to prove myself and even now he still keeps me juuuust outside of the loop. It's really starting to grind my gears, I'm almost an adult and I should be treated like one. I'll just keep being a Good Little Assistant until he lets me inside of his head. Things will only improve from there.

I think I'm gonna try and sneak a nap. I'm weirdly tired lately, maybe it's the light changing.

Love, Dip

-

Monday, September 12th

Yo! Mabel!

I'm sinking my teeth into some new subjects for school and I'm having a really great time with it so far! I get to make three-dimensional models that have hidden fourth, fifth, and sixth dimensional sides -- it's absolutely wild and I cannot wait to start arranging my first array. You know how I feel about complex shapes, I'm going to have an amazing time with this.

Things with hidden dimensions are just so cool, Mabel. I think you'd really like them, because they're so beautiful -- like genuinely pretty. They remind me of how you doodle in your notebooks, especially in the margins. Can you doodle in the margins of your next reply a bit? Dumb thing to ask, I know, but I miss them. I even miss them showing up in MY notebooks. I'm sorry if I ever yelled at you for doing that.

To answer your questions about the VR Helmet: 1. It's called the OBSEC... bunchanumbers. Nothing cool. 2. I have no idea how it works, I just know what it does. 3. What it does is kinda really embarrassing, so I'm gonna try and do my best to get my point across without passing out or throwing this letter in the garbage. Basically, it lets you sorta play through little... scenarios, anything you could think of, and along with that comes a certain level of .... biochemical involvement. That is to say, your brain pumps a bunch of feel-good chemicals into your bloodstream because it thinks you're doing something fun -- even though you're really not! This is helping me become more focused and less distracted by my teenaged-boyness. Obviously, given my performance at school lately. Feels like I'm cheating the system somehow??? But I think that's the entire point.

One more thing: Have you been calling Grunkle Stan at all? He seems really, really lonely. Worse than usual. He's been leaving Great Uncle Ford messages on his answering machine this whole time, but in the last few months he's gone from calling a few times a week, to calling every day, sometimes twice. Great Uncle Ford won't even listen to the messages, he makes me delete them for him. Playing armchair psych here; I think he feels kinda bad about what a jerk he's being, but isn't ready to admit that yet. Hearing Stan's voice, and knowing that Stan refuses to just ... hate him the way Great Uncle Ford wants him to ... it's starting to get to him. I see cracks like that here and there, which is why I'm not giving up hope that they can maybe patch things up someday. I think Great Uncle Ford needs to figure out that he can trust us, and that he'll be safe here if he does.

Anyway. Miss you, love you ... all that stuff.

Love, Dip

-

Thursday, September 15th

Mabel

I wanna die right now. My unyeilding rage won't allow it.

I was really getting into my coursework, and I asked Great Uncle Ford if he had anything to keep me up a bit longer because I felt like I was close to figuring something out and didn't want to lose it if I went to bed. I see him take stuff all the time, and he had no qualms about handing me ... something.

What I expected was Adderall. Or at least, something LIKE that, you know?? I took those for years! They caused more problems than they solved, sure, but that was because I was taking them long-term. This was supposed to be a one-off thing, a normal all-nighter.

It was not like that. It was not like that at all.

Worst anxiety attack of my life. I don't have the capacity to calculate exactly how long I was awake? But it was too long, and I'm mad that I'm awake right now.

The worst part about all of this? Great Uncle Ford acted like this was somehow MY fault. Like I'm some kind of wimp for reacting badly to mystery space drugs. Like I lied to him about what I could tolerate, or something. He just stood there and huffed at me, shaking his head and asking me "Are you done?" about every 15 minutes.

I'm currently not speaking to him. At least not today. Maybe not tomorrow, either. He resents that I'm angry at him for not giving me any type of warning about what that drug was about to do to me, I assumed I was about to become awake and alert -- not achieve nirvana by being fired out of a canon at mach fuck straight into a glass wall. Very annoyed. Very annoyed that he's acting this way.

I think I'm going to have to get him back for this, somehow. I'll need to bide my time, but he'll regret the way he tutted at me like I was some kind of preschooler throwing a tantrum.

Love, Dip

-

Sunday, September 18th

-Maybee Baby- Ms. Mabel Mack,

Got a little sick and tired of the mood in the house being so chilly, so I offered an olive branch of sorts: using my audio equipment to try and capture those whispers we keep hearing. Great Uncle Ford said we should go out looking for them (I think he was just hoping to change the subject), and I countered with staying near the house and using my stuff to make sure we're hearing what we think we're hearing.

I was right, we didn't need to go out in the woods. We heard a lot last night, and I definitely got some on my recorders. Enough, in fact, that it was worth coming out for a second night. That's what I'm doing now, well, that and writing to you.

The whispers are making me uneasy, but in a way that makes me want to keep pursuing them, you know? I feel like that once I figure them out, a lot of other things will start to make sense. Not exactly THE answers I'm looking for, but the thing that's going to set me on the path that takes me to them. For the time being I'm grateful they've been getting us out of the house. I spent so much of the summer inside and underground. You saw me! Was I the crimson adonis I usually am? No. Pale as dough. And I'm only going to get paler as winter creeps in. I may be translucent by Christmas.

You said you've been e-mailing some old friends? Heard back from anyone? I sometimes run into people when I go into town, but nobody seems to want to talk to me. I think they're mad, and I guess they have a right to be, but it really reinforces how alone I am out here. I honestly thought it would take me less than a year to get Great Uncle Ford to see the light and reconcile with Grunkle Stan.

I really miss you.

Love,

   D I      P -

Tuesday, September 20th

Mabel

I'm so fucking angry right now that I want to scream. Grateful for the Screaming Closet Great Uncle Ford installed the first summer we were here, I'll tell you that much. I had to try and keep calm and be reasonable so that I didn't explode, WHICH WAS THE WORST.

UGH.

Oh. My god.

I caught him researching restraining orders. You can guess why, and for who. I don't even want to put it in writing because it's just going to make me angry all over again. I can't fucking believe him.

I don't know what it is, but he seems extra moody and distant lately -- and get this, he accuses me of the same thing. Yeah, you know what? I AM a little peevish. Miffed, even. And lately he's doing and saying things that make me not want to be around him, so I've been distant. I also have a lot on my mind that has nothing to do with anything in particular, but it's taking up time and space so I'm a little short on change for the Putting Up With His Bullshit Express.

As if that weren't enough, guess who's analyzing ALL of the audio we recorded over the weekend by himself? I had three devices running for almost 20 hours total over two days. Ghost Hunter Plumbers don't have to work under these conditions. Neither do the guys from Dudebro Ghost Show. He could very easily help but he is choosing not to, and I think that's what makes me the maddest, out of all of it.

He isn't great with computers? Not hopeless, but very rigid and unwilling to exit his comfort zone, which is a weird combination of things we haven't done in 30 years and things we won't be doing for another 200. I don't think my Fruitbook would be that hard to figure out, they're made to be intuitive, but what's intuitive for everyone else generally isn't for Great Uncle Ford. I think he gets embarrassed about that and would rather pretend it's beneath him than reveal he's bad at it.

Lots to think about. Aiee.

Love, Dip

-

Thursday, September 22nd

Mabelfish,

I'm doing a lot better, thanks. Especially since someone sent me a five pound bag of blue raspberry BubbHeddz.

Thank you, by the way.

I'm finishing up my analysis of all that audio I recorded, and I wish I could say I felt good about it. There is a message buried in the sounds we've been hearing, flipped and reversed -- so that we'd have to work to find it. The weirdest part is that I know, deep down inside, that this message isn't for me. It's for Great Uncle Ford.

"You'll trip and fall right in to me."

Is this why he's been acting weird lately? Is he at risk of a Bill relapse? I dunno. I almost don't want to tell him, but I know I should. Who knows, maybe this will shift his focus away from being mean to Grunkle Stan and back to being mean to Bill.

I'm gonna sleep on these findings and see how they feel in the morning.

Love, Dip

-

Monday, September 26th

Mabes,

I went a little longer than I usually like to without writing, but I was on a roll with my schoolwork. I haven't felt that 'in-the-zone' in a REALLY long time. Up until the end of last year, I hadn't really had much trouble with anything Great Uncle Ford threw at me. These last few subjects though, woof. I know they're going to be important later on, at least -- that's what Great Uncle Ford says, and I kinda have to trust him on that.

Shame that trusting him is harder and harder to do lately, but what can you do?

In addition to advancing my studies, we had to do some cleanup around the property. It's funny, I used to hate doing stuff like that, but I had a great time being outside and getting fresh air. I still ache in places I didn't even know it was possible to ache, but it's a GOOD ache, one that accomplished something. It certainly keeps my body from acting in ways I don't want it to.

Not that that's a problem I usually have! My body is definitely fine and I am in complete control of it at all times. But between my sleep being all weird and that pill I took earlier this month, I feel a little less than square sometimes. I'd like to say stress is also a factor, but with the OBSEC-8177 I'm not really experiencing a whole lot of stress. When I do, it's temporary, and usually Great Uncle Ford's fault.

I think you'd like the OBSEC-8177 a lot. If you're ever allowed to visit here you can give it a try. I doubt Great Uncle Ford would let me take something like this out of the house, so you'd have to come here. We should figure out a way to make that happen.

Love, Diiip

-

Thursday, September 29th

Maybe it's Mabel,

Against my better judgement, I'm sitting here decoding more audio. Great Uncle Ford grabbed my recording devices and started rolling when I stepped inside for a little bit and, unfortunately, he caught some things.

More backmasked talking, and it makes me feel kinda gross. It's nothing particularly threatening, though definitely threatening, it's just layered with a certain level of ... familiarity, I'll call it. It kinda comes off as flirty?? But that doesn't seem right, does it? Maybe I can somehow regain access to my e-mail and I can send you these clips so you can see what I mean.

It is 100% Bill, by the way. It wouldn't be the first time we've received weird little voice notes from him, but these are different than anything we've encountered in the past. Real "the call is coming from inside the house" vibes: "Don't be so sure." and "I'm closer than you think." Personally, I think we should stop engaging ... but Bill is making that hard. I have found that vocally acknowledging these noises makes them quiet down for a bit, but the longer you go without confronting them the louder they become. I think we should probably try and figure out a way to fortify the house a bit better? Hard to bring that kind of thing up, because Great Uncle Ford gets really tetchy if you imply something he's done isn't good enough.

Can it be Thanksgiving yet?

Love, Dip

[ellie-24]

USS Randall Ramblers Part 2

Writing prompt: Army Elvis

Yay, I actually managed to be on time this week. Thanks to the most amazing, funny and creative people ever: @thatbanditqueen @vintageshanny @be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: Mary and Elvis reunite in Germany after their first meeting on the ship that brought them there.

Word count: ~4.7 k

Frankfurt am Main, Germany. October 29th 1958

"He still hasn't called, has he Dad?" Mary asked dejectedly, her chin resting on one hand while she and her family sat at the dinner table. The lights briefly flickered above them and her eyes slowly wandered from the failing lightbulb towards the ceiling which was covered with cracks and spots where the paint had flaked off. It was probably a pure white colour at one point, but now it looked yellowed and stained from decades of smoking cigars inside. It was an old apartement building which had miraciously survived World War II that they had rented out. An apartement where the shower was located it the kitchen and the boiler from the heating would thump and rattle loudly and reliably every other minute. But she quickly got used to that and didn't dare to complain. The days grew colder and shorter now, the mild winters in Texas she experienced for the past years were probably no comparison to the german ones. It was already pitch black and outside and she had to make sure to always wear an extra pair of fuzzy socks, even inside the building.

Her father's head shot up at her question and he looked confused for a second, as if he hadn't heard a word she said. "Uh... no, dear I'm afraid not." He eventually muttered and waved his hand before letting his gaze wander downwards again.

Mary's mother had carefully watched the exchange and raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Teddy, I told you, no more music sheets during dinner. Or breakfast. Or lunch. Put them away, you can study them after we finished eating."

Her father looked up again, this time towards her mother, feeling caught. "Alright, Josie." he agreed with a sigh and reluctantly pulled the notes he hid under the table from his lap and placed them onto the kitchen counter. Ever since that one evening aboard the USS Randall his interest in music had sparked once again. Completely. Mary still recalls his goofy expression when he entered their flat one evening, not even a week after they had arrived, with an old tattered guitar he bought somewhere tight in his grasp. "God help us." Her mother had muttered with an affectionate smile. He now spend most of his free time practising and even tried to teach himself how to read sheet music. Mary watched her father with an apologetic smile when suddenly her little brother opened his mouth.

"Mary, I think it's time for you to accept that he probably didn't like you as much as you liked him." He snickered across the table.

"Shut it, Tommy!" She hissed with a frown, tempted to throw a pea into her brother's sneering face.

"Language, Mary!" her mother chided her with a pointed look.

"Sorry, Mama." Mary mumbled and quickly glared at her brother before continuing to push the food around her plate with her fork, deep in thought.

It's been nearly a month.

A month since Mary set her foot in a foreign country. A country which would be her home for a few years now. A month since she met Elvis Presley. Before they both departed the ship at Bremerhaven he had promised her that he would call her father at his base and properly introduce himself to him once more and explain his intentions before inviting her over. He sounded so honest, so determined, as he pressed a small and gentle kiss to her cheek. It nearly made her knees buckle. The half smile he gave her in an effort to hide the still very evident melancholy in his eyes was reassuring for her in a way. He'd certainly call her. He wanted to see her again, wanted her around. She was sure of it. He'd call her once they both had the time to properly settle into their new, very different and yet kind of similar lives.

Her new life in Frankfurt, where her father was stationed at Drake Kaserne, part of the headquarters of the 3rd Armored Division, as First Lieutenant, and Elvis' new life in Friedberg, stationed at Ray Barracks as a more or less regular Private. They didn't even live an hour apart from each other but to Mary it felt like they were oceans apart, he seemed undeniably out of her reach even though they arrived here together. She'd never openly admit it, but she desperately wanted to see him again and Tommy's mindless comment affected her more than it should. Did Elvis already forget about her? Did she read more into the situation than he did? Was it ever his intention to call and arrange it for her to come visit him? Did he not like her as much as she liked him? All these questions made hear heart feel heavy and her appetite promptly disappeared. She curtly excused herself from the table to go to her room and hide under the duvet, mentally preparing herself to give up all hope that she would ever see him again.

The more surprising it was when her father got home the next day to tell her that he had, indeed, called. He'd asked Mary so spend the following weekend in Bad Nauheim and offered to pay for train tickets and a room for her to stay in in the same hotel he was currently living. When her father had expressed concerns about his daughter embarking on such an endeavour all alone Elvis had offered that her mother could of course accompany her as a chaperone. Mary was giddy with exitement and even though it felt very spontaneous and impulsive she got her mother to go along with her. Deep down she knew that her mother was probably looking forward to meeting him again as well, she rather enjoyed his music and whenever he was on tv she'd make sure to comment 'what a handsome, young man' he was.

So, her and her mother left on the following saturday morning to catch the train to Friedberg. It was a bumpy ride and the sky above her was as grey as it could get but that didn't deter Mary from grinning like a maniac as she gazed out of the window to take in the equally dull industrial landscape. Elvis had promised he'd arrange a driver to pick them up at the station and bring them over to Bad Nauheim. It didn't take long until a heavy set man who gruffly introduced himself as Lamar Fike approached them and swiftly snatched their luggage from them, telling them to follow him to the car. It was s rather silent ride, Mary and her mother quickly found that the man behind the wheel didn't really care much for conversation.

When the hotel came into view Mary felt her hands starting to sweat, nervous butterflies now in her stomach. They got out of the car with Lamar excusing himself and pulling out of the driveway again and made their way towards to entrance of the old building, which seemed to be from the last century. They entered Villa Grunewald and Mary looked around in awe when they arrived in the beautiful salon. Wallpapers with golden ornaments, heavy ruffled curtains and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling made it look very classy and old fashioned.

She quickly spotted him lounging on a green velvet sofa, reading a magazine. With himself on the front page. There he was, just like that, and Mary was once again taken aback by his beautiful features. This time he wasn't dressed in his trim uniform but a comfortable yellow cardigan and black dress pants. His sad eyes immediately lit up when he saw her standing only a few feet away from him. He shot up from his seat, the magazine falling to the floor, forgotten.

"Hello Mrs. Davis, Mary." He said with a nod towards her. He greeted both her mother and her with a quick kiss to the cheek. Mary hoped she looked less flustered than her mum, who herself was giggling almost like a school girl.

"Oh, Elvis, our dear Mary's talked so much about you for the past month. Always wondering when you would-"

"Mama!" Mary interjected frantically, eyes wide and pleading. She could see Elvis fighting back a grin when her cheeks turned red.

Her mother tutted. "Oh Mary, don't be like that. It's so sweet! Elvis, it was very kind of you to arrange all that." She said and looked around appreciatively.

He leaned towards her mother. "Oh, it's no big deal ma'am, really. Don't worry about it, it's great to have you here."

Thankfully, a kind looking man approached them in that moment, sparing Mary of any further embarrassement now that everyone's focus was on the stranger greeting them. Although she did catch Elvis looking over to her again and again in the corner of her eye, smiling mischievously. The man in front of them introduced himself, with a heavy German accent, as Otto Schmidt. The hotelier. They briefly exchanged pleasentries and Mary could tell that Elvis grew impatient, shifting from one foot to the other. When Mr. Schmidt started talking about the history and the architecture of the hotel Elvis quickly grasped her hand. "Come on, wanna show you around." He whispered, his body close to hers and his head bent down.

She threw a short glance to her mother, who probably heard the exchange as well. "Oh, off you go, sweetie. I'll get us settled in." She chirped with a knowing smile and turned back to Mr. Schmidt, listening dutifully.

Elvis didn't let go of her hand when he led her over to the old, wooden and creaky looking stairs. "I rented out the entire second floor. I think you'll like it." He practically ran up the stairs and pulled her along with him, making her almost stumble over one particular step which seemed to be higher than the ones before. "Oh yeah, watch out for that one, honey. Almost broke my damn neck when I walked up here the first time." He shook his head at the memory.

"Thanks for the warning beforehand." Mary muttered with a smile.

"Honey, I'd catch ya, don'tcha worry." He countered, throwing a stern look over his shoulder, as if offended that she thought he'd let her fall and injure herself.

They walked along the hallway until they stood in front of room number 10 and he reached out to open the door. Mary stepped inside, his room equally noble looking like the salon downstairs. The wallpapers here were pastel coloured, also adorned with gold ornaments, a golden mirror with stucco decoration, a big red armchair and a dark wooden bed right in the middle of the room. She quickly looked away. This was where he slept. To her it felt very invasive, just standing here and observing everything. But as soon as the door closed behind her, she felt his arms wrapping around her in a nearly suffocating hug, which made her feel silly for thinking she was the one overstepping boundaries.

"Oh, little Mary, I've missed ya so much."

She blushed and awkwardly patted his back, still not used to his familiar, almost intimate touches as if they were old friends. For her it certainly didn't feel like they just met a month ago and only spend a few hours together. She was grateful for his forwardness, the feeling of his strong body against hers and his hand in her hair transported her back to the night they met. When he pulled away from her after a few more seconds, much to her regret, he looked down on her with a frown. His face was still so close to her's that she was afraid she'd get lost in those blue eyes adorned with impossibly long dark lashes. Were they so beautiful aboard the USS Randall as well? Did she just forget their absolutely hypnotic effect? Her voice failed her, words stuck in her throat.

"Aren't you gonna say you missed me?" he asked with a pout.

She quickly snapped back at that and smiled up to him with a shrug. "Mhm, maybe. Actually I'm just here for a few more autographs you know?"

He tightened his grip on her waist and playfully glared at her. "I see, ya trying to play little Miss Difficult again? Cause I remember what ya mama said downstairs." He spoke in a low voice and lightly started to tickle her sides. It was right then that they were interrupted by high-pitched, energetic barking and the sound of little paws quickly hitting the carpeted floor filling the room. Mary turned her head and saw something, what she first thought was a little beige coloured hairball, emerging from the connecting room and approaching them hectically. Upon closer inspection she quickly realised it was indeed a little puppy now dancing and jumping around their legs.

"Oh, come here, oh you sweet thing!" Mary exclaimed happily and leaned down on her knees to scratch the exited poodle behind it's ear. "What's it's name?" she asked, looking up at Elvis again who watched her with a soft smile. He crouched down as well, running his big hand carefully over the wooly hair.

"He's called Cherry, picked the little rascal up just two days ago."

"Oh Cherry, oh hello little one, yes, you're the cutest aren't you? And the smallest! And what a sweet name you have!"

The puppy frantically moved his little legs and awkwardly tried to climb up her lap to lick at her face, barking at her the whole time as if he wanted her help. Mary gently picked him up, he seemed to weigh no more than a loaf of rye bread she'd come to like here, and nuzzled her nose against his cold, wet one.

"Guess I thought of you when I named the lil' guy." He added with a charming look on his face, as if trying to get her attention again.

But Mary didn't take her eyes off the small dog in her arms. "Oh, your daddy is a big charmer today isn't he? Yes, always saying these nice things." She giggled and puckered her lips, as if wanting to kiss the puppy's face.

"Hold on now. So there's a guy you'll kiss just like that, but when I ask for one ya gotta look all annoyed and irritated with poor me as if ya smelled something bad?"

She lowered Cherry back into her lap and turned towards Elvis, her face blank. "Well, this one didn't try to blackmail me into it in exchange for a napkin with a scribbly signature on it."

His eyes widened in alarm and he backed away a little. "Now, h-honey ain't n-nobody forced ya-" He argued frantically, his hands up and a heavy frown on his face.

She put a reassuring hand on his arm and giggled. "I'm just joking... Don't get all worked up, sweetie." She imitated his voice in the latter half, making him look at her with the most unreadable expression, his mouth hanging open for a few seconds, only to then explode into the most contagious, genuine laughter.

He put a hand over his heart. "God, honey, we really gotta work on that attitude of yours." He chuckled. "You're scaring a man outta his wits with that icy glare of yours."

She smiled. "My dad always says that's a good thing."

"Now that I think about it your father might actually be right, sweetheart." He agreed with a good natured smile. They just looked at each other, lost in each other's eyes for a moment.

Little Cherry felt neglected again all of the sudden and tried to climb up her chest again, eager to lick at her face once more and Elvis quickly snatched him away from her with a grunt. "Alright, that's enough buddy. She's here for me. You better get your own girl." He gave Cherry a quick kiss before setting him down on the floor again, making Mary giggle. Then he stood up and grabbed her hand again, helping her stand as well. "Christ, why do I always have to tear you away from other guys to make you want to spend time with me, honey? I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose."

"And if I did?" She challenged, trying to sound extra cheeky. She would regret that.

He bit his lip and stepped closer to her, his hands ghosting over her hips. "Then you'd be a little minx, who ought to be spanked for that. But you're not are ya? I know you, little Mary. You're a good girl." He spoke and briefly cupped her chin with his thumb and index finger.

Any smart answer she might have had for him instantly died in her throat when he uttered those words in that sultry, deep voice of his. Instead, the raging butterflies in her stomach that made her feel nearly nauseous at times wandered... down into her lower belly. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but apparently she ran out of spit when he lead her towards the bed. He laid down, pulled her down with him and she had no choice but to sink into the soft matress. The old wooden bed briefly creaked under their combined weight and she tried to focus on the soft linen below her and avoid his burning gaze at all cost. He threw a casual arm around her and it felt utterly indecent, if her mother could see her like this now she'd probably have a fit. But Mary couldn't but like it. It exited her, especially when his fingers lightly skimmed over her arm. She could practically feel him staring at her profile, but she still didn't dare to turn her head towards him.

Of course Cherry quickly followed them and hopped onto the bed as well, something she wouldn't have thought he could manage at his size. He got comfortable in her lap again, presenting his belly to Mary. The thick tension between her and Elvis was broken just like that and she let out a sigh, both in relief and disappointment. She reached out, her hand still trembling a bit and patted him with another giggle. "Oh you sweet thing you like that don't you? Yes you do!" she cooed.

"Lord." Elvis groaned with an exasperated frown and threw his head back.

She leaned back against the headboard again. "Alright, sorry, I just can't help it, he's so cute!" Mary said with a laugh and turned her attention towards the scowling man next to her again.

"Oh, don't be like that." She mumbled with a gentle smile and leaned over to softly press her lips against his cheek in an effort to appease him. Not at all just to do something she had dreamed about for the last month. And damn his skin was still as soft and warm as she remembered.

He smiled bashfully when her fingers brushed over his cheekbone. "...Okay, baby, I'll forgive you."

Mary bit her lip to supress an absolutely lovesick smile and looked around. "...Are we alone? Didn't uh, some of your friends and family come over as well?" She asked suddenly, just now realising that they were, in fact, alone.

He smirked down at her, pleased that she apparently followed the news about him. She picked up on that and shrugged nonchalantly.

"That's what I heard at least."

"Right, sweetheart." He grinned. "Yeah, my father, my grandmother and two of my... bodyguards live here as well. You've met Lamar."

"Oh, yes, that's right, although, uh he didn't really say much." She grimaced lightly at the memory of the awkward drive here. "Where are they now? Aren't they... I don't know, supposed to guard the door or something?" She gestured around and looked at him quizzically.

He raised his eyebrows. "Lamar and Red? Don't know what these two airheads are up to now. Probably causing some ruckus in town. Sometimes they really ain't good for nothing, I'll tell ya."

She pursed her lips. "And... you father? And grandma? I'd love to meet them."

"You would?"

"Of course!"

"Well, sweetheart, Dodger is out running errands and my father is off meeting some girl who, uh, wanted to... o-offer her c-condolences, uh... I wanted to invite her over for a coffee... but I found I'd much rather spend my time with you. So I-I sent my father instead."

"Oh..." Mary felt horrible all of the sudden. There was this strange girl reaching out to the family after such a devastating event and here she was... just being sassy with him all the time. He was still grieving and managed to hide it way too well for his own good. One could almost forget how much he was still suffering.

When he spoke up again it was as if he'd read her thoughts. "No, Mary, don't feel bad. You just being here is everything I need." With that he quickly put an end to the conversation about his parents, especially his deceased mother and she nodded while clearing her throat, at a loss of words for a second. He scooted closer to her, his fingers still softly caressing her arm.

"You know..." she started tentatively. "I uh, also cancelled plans for you."

He slowly turned towards her, his eyes narrowed. "What kinda plans?"

"A new friend of mine and I wanted to go to the uh.. what's that word... Lichtspielhaus! That's the one!" She said proudly.

He blinked. "The what?"

"The cinema." She offered.

His eyes narrowed even further and his fingers now dug into her skin. "So... you go on movie dates now? I hope it's not another G.I.?"

She felt a smile tugging at her lips. "I'd hardly consider Helga a G.I., she helped me trying to figure out the busses in Frankfurt when I looked lost. Which I admittedly was. We met up a few times since then. I teach her English and she tries to teach me German." Mary explained and watched how his hard expression softened again. He closed his eyes and nodded, satisfied. Then he looked at her again and searched her eyes curiously, his brows furrowed.

"Why do ya want to learn it? Not planning on staying here forever, are ya?" He asked, a bit hesitant.

"Heavens, no."

He nodded again and his gaze drifted down towards their still interlocked hands. "Good, because I need ya back in the States with me when I return."

"You do?"

"O-Of course, honey. You're so important to me, I-I don't think I can let you go now."

She looked down, not sure if he really meant it, or it was just his emotional distress talking. Her eyes wandered around the room and she bit her lip in thought. Cherry had taken residence by her feet and seemed fast asleep. "I... I'm glad to hear that. You know, I really started to wonder if you actually want to see me again."

He cooed and pulled her closer to him, guiding her head to lay on his chest and the soft fabric of his cardigan against her face made her want to sink into him compltely. "Oh, sweet Mary, no don't ever think that. I-I know it took me a long time to reach out to you... It's just, uh-"

"No, I guess I understand. You probably had other things on your mind as well. Sorry."

"No Mary, don't. Life's just... very different now, here. The people a-and the army... e-everybody wants something from me...can't even catch no damn sleep in this damn country..." He trailed off with a huff. "I really... miss home. And I-I got nobody to talk to here, except my family. It's really good to have ya here. O-Otherwise I'd start to get mad here, t-trust me on that, sweetie."

She raised her head again, his frantic heartbeat beneath her ear suddenly too much too bear for her. A deep frown distorted his handsome features, the same look she spotted on him when they crossed the Atlantic Ocean. The melancholy in his eyes was one that went well beyond his 23 years of life and although his days in the army must be strictly regulated and timed and routined, he seemed to be completely lost, without a plan or a prospect of what the future might bring. What it might hold for him.

Mary reached out and carefully ran her hand through his short hair, hoping to provide at least a little comfort, knowing that there's really nothing she can do. He leaned into her touch and his eyes bore into hers, his piercing stare making her feel exposed. He frowned, suddenly remembering something.

"I still have to sing for you, Mary. That was part of our deal." He mumbled.

"You're right." She whispered. "But if you're not feeling like it, that's okay as well."

"N-No, I promised." He insisted, probably needing this more than her right now.

She smiled reassuringly, thankfully at him and traced his bottom with her finger again before pulling back and listening intently.

He quickly cleared his throat and furrowed his eyebrows in concentration before singing a beautiful rendition of the song "Love me". While he sang Mary rested her head against his shoulder again, and contentedly listened to him. When he finished she was almost asleep, his velvety voice soothing and calming and so, so much better than when she heard him on the tv or the radio. It all felt so surreal to Mary, she almost pinched herself so make sure this was really happening. To her. Suddenly the man under her jerked as if waking up from a dream himself.

"...Uh...sweetheart, there's something I gotta tell ya."

"...What is it?" She whispered, a hint of anxiety in her stomach about what was to come.

He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling under her cheek. "I'll have to leave on monday. Uh, they're sending me Bavaria for six weeks for a maneuver. It's a few hours away from here. That's why I had to see ya this weekend. Don't know when... uh, we can see each other again."

"Oh... alright." She managed to get out, her voice a bit raspy both from nearly falling asleep as well as the disappointment suddenly flowing through her.

"B-But it won't be as bad, sweetheart. I-I'm gonna call ya every day. You'll see."

She shifted. "Yeah, no, I mean I'd love that, but you don't have to. I mean you're probably busy-"

"Sweetheart I will. Because I want to, alright? Wanna hear your sweet voice to get me through the day. And I'll be save from that icy glare over the phone." He added with a smug grin.

"Ha-Ha."

He pulled her closer again. "Aww, sweetheart, I love that look... Promise me you'll see no other boys while I'm gone?"

"And you'll see no other girls?" She countered with a frown, her fingers picking off a lint from his cardigan.

He smiled. "What, are you jealous, honey?" He asked playfully.

Her frown deepened, which he thankfully couldn't see. "Just asking for the same conditions."

He smirked and licked his lips. "Look at me, honey." She did. "I promise. And I'll call ya. Every day."

With that he softly, unexpectedly pecked her lips. It wasn't an open mouthed kiss she'd awkwardly shared with boys from school, which would drag on for eternity. This one was over before she could even react, making her crave more, eager to replicate exhilarating feeling of his mouth against hers. His lips felt way softer than they looked which she didn't think was even possible. She wanted to kiss him again, but he pushed her head back down against his chest, effectively preventing her from getting another taste of him. And just like that he had her hanging by a thread again, leaving her with nothing else but the hope that he'd keep his promise to her once more.

Thanks for reading!! I'm also tagging the amazing people who asked for a part two!! I love you all!❤️ @godlypresley @lookingforrainbows @18lkpeters @c-rosenn

[chocolateheart]

Door number 12

Title: Door Number 12

Word count: 7937 (I know, I'm sorry)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: A noisy neighbour is bringing you a lot of emotions. What if this bubbling tension and frustration will finally find their way out?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (please, wrap it before you tap it), creampie, fingering, handjob, pinning to the wall, clothes tearing, biting, scratching, a lot of kissing, strong eye contact, sex noises, tension, some swearing, noisy neighbour, arguing, stealing food, property damage, I don't know, porn?

Bingo Square Filled: Neighbour AU for @spnmixedbingo

A/N: Yes, another porn. Please, don't judge me, I couldn't help it. I won't say much, that fic just sorta happened. I hope you'll like it! Enjoy babes!

A/N: As always huge huge huge THANK YOU to my dear beta, angel and Queen @winchest09 for giving this piece a look. Love you Tabbs <3 Still, mistakes are mine!

A/N: The gorgeous divider designed by incredibly talented @talesmaniac89 <3

Throwing your bag on the counter along with your keys, a deep sigh left your chest. You numbly looked around your apartment as you began to take off your jewellery. Why did this place always look like a pigsty every time you got back home? Your necklace and bracelet joined your bag when you tossed them to one side as a yawn escaped you.

This day was exhausting, to say the least. Maybe your work wasn’t that demanding but sometimes it was just tiring to the point where you wanted to cry. After shrugging your jean jacket off, your feet took you to the couch and you just collapsed down on it with a pained grunt. Your body was stiff and aching, your head was pounding from pain and as soon as you felt a pillow under it, your will to stay awake had started to fade. You knew you shouldn’t take a nap now as there was still so much left to do today, but for god's sake, it was Friday evening and you had been working for the past 5 days at top speed. An hour of rest was something you definitely deserved.

Without standing up, you lifted your hips to take off your jeans and wrapped yourself in the blanket you always kept on the couch. Relaxing your body with a deep breath, you closed your eyes, already halfway to dreamland. But as soon as you felt yourself drifting completely, a loud sound of guitar suddenly sounded in your ears, making your eyes snap open.

No, not again!

Fisting the pillow, you felt the anger growing as you knew exactly where the loud rock music was coming from; recognising the band as AC/DC. When the volume increased, you hid your head underneath the pillow, desperate to cut off your aching skull from the noise. But it didn’t work, the sound still bleeding through the cushion. It didn’t take you a minute to shoot up on straight legs and pull on your sweats while marching towards the front door.

Mumbling inappropriate words, you entered the staircase for your building and immediately went down; hearing the power of the music increasing with every step you took. You found yourself on a floor below, with your jaw and hands clenched, eyes glued to door number 12 as you approached it. Once you stood in front of it, you lifted one of your fists and hit the hard on the wood a few times, ready to murder the person on the other side. Of course he made you wait till the song ended, causing you to repeat the punching a couple of times.

When the door finally opened, you were fuming with anger, eyes shooting lightnings towards the tall man on the opposite side of the doorstep.

"I swear to god, Winchester," you hissed through gritted teeth, a loud melody almost muffling your words. "If you won't turn that down, I will physically harm you." Your threatening pulled a laugh from him which only acted as another oil drop to the fire.

"Sweetheart you can't do anything to me," he said, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed on this broad chest. "Besides, I don't understand what your problem is." Dean shrugged as if nothing had happened, making your brows shoot up.

"You don't understand?! This music is driving me crazy!" You took a deep breath and while not breaking the strong eye contact you had with him, you started to enlighten him on what exactly was wrong. "I’ve had a terrible day, no, week actually. Everything hurts, my head is pounding and this music is shaking my walls which in turn, is not letting me sleep. So if you could be so nice and turn that off because I swear on what's holy, if I lose my goddamn mind, your name will be the first one I'm gonna mention once they ask me how I ended up in mental hospital." Words just slipped out of you in one unbreakable line and you took shuddering breath after, composing yourself.

However, the smug smirk didn’t leave your neighbour's face; he didn’t give a damn about your monologue. After you finished, he only put a hand on your shoulder and delivered his response.

"It's a Friday evening and we live in a free country. There’s no rule saying I can't listen to loud music, unless it's lights out. What's more, you're the only one who can't stand this, I don't see anyone else coming here to complain, so maybe the problem lies in you, not in me," he simply said, as he flashed you a fake, sarcastic smile and closed the door. But not before saying, "have a nice evening."

You looked up to the ceiling, asking for patience but the frustration and anger were huge. You growled, kicked Winchester's door with your socked foot and cursed, feeling pain going from your toes to the tibial bone.

On your way back to your apartment, you were mumbling out every possible, offensive name that came to your mind when you thought about that green eyed man. Your relationship had been heated ever since he moved into the building. He made your blood boil. Loud music, meetings with his friends, watching movies on full volume on his surround speakers after dark in the middle of the week, noisily cooking at midnight; even his one night stands apparently had an unfulfilled opera career.

You were having a battle with Dean, on average, twice a week. Knowing you weren’t the only one who couldn’t stand his behavior, you asked others for help, but Dean’s charm was way bigger of an opponent than you had expected. He could just use a sweet smile, say a few, flirty words with this deep voice and Ann from the end of the hall would walk on wobbly legs with stupid smile on her face for the next four days.

You couldn’t really blame her, the man was ridiculously attractive but you were looking past it. Dean was an annoying asshole and the only reason you had not yet clawed out his eyes was the fact that visiting the jail wasn’t exactly a wooing thought.

Shutting your door behind you, you leaned against it and ‘Sweet Child O’ mine’ came on. You growled once again, hit your wooden barricade with your head and looked down, trying to find calmness in your floor. Once you stopped radiating fury, knowing that the person below won't let you rest for at least two more hours, you chose the second drawer in your kitchen, searching for painkillers. If you were being made to stay up, you were gonna be productive. Swallowing two aspirin, you decided to clean the place so you could focus on college work tomorrow.

If only you could actually focus on college work.

After waking up at 8 am the next day, you opened the window on your way to the kitchen, craving coffee. It wasn’t normal for you to get up at this hour on the weekend but your finals were coming and you had way more work than you expected.

Thankfully, the weather outside was pleasant; the sun was already shining, creating morning shadows and the soft wind streamed inside your apartment, tickling your ankles as you sat at the table, eating breakfast. The smell of spring made you smile, always bringing back good memories. After the meal, you didn’t bother to change your pajamas for the actual clothes and you just took the laptop to start working on your college sheets. You were sitting with one of your legs bent, heel leaning on the chair, messy bun on your head, sipping on the second coffee while listening to the birds singing happily outside. Words were flooding out of you, making you feel certain that it wouldn’t take you long to be done with your essays. But that blissful moment was cut short when a loud rumble of a car’s engine resonated under your building, causing you to jerk in your chair and almost spill your drink.

Recognizing it straight away, you looked up, trying your best to not get angry again but as the sound of his loud engine revving l continued, you smacked the table with your palm and stood up. As you leaned on your window sill and gazed out, you spotted black, slick Chevrolet with the driver's door, trunk and hood open. Tools were scattered around the vehicle, a jean clothed leg was sticking out from the inside and you greeted your teeth, knowing who that was.

“Hey!” you yelled out, not caring if probably half of the residents could hear you. “I’m trying to study here!”

Dean peeked out and up at you, smiled and got out of the car, leaning his elbow on the hood in a nonchalant way.

“Good morning to you too,” he said and flashed you the oh-so-charming smile.

“It would be good if you didn’t interrupt it with your loud junker,” you spat back, leaning on the window frame and smiled when his face fell; he hated it when someone insulted his Baby, and you were very much aware of that. “Now, could you please lower your generic volume because I have a lot to do and you’re the last thing I want to deal with today.”

“Nobody tells you to. I’m minding my business, you go mind yours, I ain’t stopping you.” He gestured towards you with his grease covered hand.

“No, but your car is making noise that shakes all the dishes in my cabinet.”

He just shrugged and you narrowed your eyes, seeing that he didn’t care about whatever your problem was. “Then I suggest closing the window.”

After saying that, he dived inside the vehicle and seconds later you heard the strong twang of a guitar. Again. This man was very successful in making you hate rock music. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, stopping yourself from throwing a flowerpot at him; only because it was a very nice pot and you were emotionally attached to it.

“I need fresh air! I’m not gonna close the window! Turn that off!” you screamed, but he only frowned and pointed to his ear.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t hear you!” You could see the smile dancing on his lips and you really wanted to break something on his head. “The music is too loud!”

Clenching your jaw you gave up. Another defeat, but it wasn’t the war you lost; it was just a battle and he was yet to feel your comeback. Showing him your middle finger, you closed the window and went to the bathroom, not being able to hear the soft chuckle that left him.

Maybe to an outsider, Dean’s behavior wasn’t such a big deal, but the longer he acted like that, the more annoying and tiring it was becoming. You couldn’t focus on basic activities because he was giving you a headache in various ways and for some reason, you couldn’t just talk it through with him. Every attempt at trying to get to an understanding with him, ended up with a fight.

Winchester was just a pain in the ass.

Thankfully, he vanished before noon; his car was gone and there was a blissful silence that you made the most of, and finished the majority of what you had to do.

Surrounded by papers and books, you were sitting down on your fluffy carpet, leaning back on your couch, typing away on your laptop. Glancing at your clock again, you frowned. It’s been almost 85 minutes since you ordered pizza; your stomach was rumbling, unhappy with the fact of still being empty. Finding your phone, you dialed the pizza parlor’s number once again. Standing up, you stretched your muscles and looked outside, watching the sunset sky as you waited for someone to pick up. Finally, the lady’s voice spoke to you down the line, asking you how she could help.

“Hi, I made an order from you and I still haven’t received it? It’s been over an hour,” you explained politely, scratching the back of your head.

You didn’t like situations like that; delay was understandable, but it had been way too long. However, you hated to call someone out, you never wanted to make someone’s job harder than it already was. Giving your address to the lady so she could check where your food was, you spotted the black vehicle under the building and your brows shot up. He was home and it was still quiet; it wasn’t normal.

“Miss, the system says your order was delivered and we have a confirmation of receipt.” You frowned hearing her words as what she said was impossible.

“Are you sure? There was no delivery here.”

“Yes, I’m positive. It says someone picked up the order twenty minutes ago.” Pinching your nose, you took a deep breath.

“Could you check the address precisely, please? Maybe your driver made a mistake?” you suggested being already sure someone else got your food.

“Rosenhouse Street, building 4, apartment 12,” she read and the last number made you flinch.

“Apartment 20,” you corrected her, but she denied.

“No Miss, the order was picked up by apartment 12.” And just like that the level of your anger reached three digits in a second.

“Okay, thank you so much,” you murmured and disconnected the call without a goodbye, already storming halfway across your place, getting ready to leave.

Slamming the door, you took a very well known path downstairs and you banged on number 12 as soon as you stood in front of it. Feeling the urge to punch the person who was supposed to open, you inhaled deeply, clenching your teeth. Just... keep it cool, Y/N.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you growled the second Dean came into your view in his domestic clothes, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Whoa, what?” he tilted his head with an uncomprehending look.

“Listen,” you pointed a finger at him. “Loud noises, annoying car, your mean behavior, fine, okay. Screw it. But stealing food? That is childish. Can you go any lower?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he said with a smile dancing on his lips. “What food?”

“My pizza,” you muttered through your teeth.

“Oh, right!” He smacked his forehead, acting like he just now understood. “Yeah, pizza was great.”

“You stole it!” you exclaimed, a little too high pitched.

“No I didn’t,” Dean stated, giving you a small, I-know-better smile.

“Yes, you did. I ordered it and you just pocketed it!” You really wanted to stamp your foot like a little girl to tick your fury.

"No sweetheart, I didn’t," he said, crossing his arms and straightening his back so he could tower over you, making you look up. "The guy came in with pizza, said he's supposed to bring it here, so I paid for it and ate it."

"Oh! Because it's normal to pay for the food you didn’t order and keep it to yourself. And stop calling me sweetheart!" You puffed out irritated, making him smirk.

"You're cute when you're angry." Your face fell and you felt your palm itching. What would he do if you slapped him?

"Dean," you warned him but he chuckled.

"No, seriously." He reached to your forehead, wanting to brush it with his finger. "You have this cute, little wrinkle in the middle-"

"Don't touch me." You smacked his hand away and pointed a warning finger straight into his face. "One more action like this and you're gonna regret it," you growled out and walked away.

"So it's threatening now, huh?!" he called after you, coming out to stand in the hall.

Before you stepped on the stairs, you turned around with such a force, that your hair flipped over one of your shoulders and you showed him your middle finger. Hearing his low laugh bouncing on the wall, you scoffed annoyed as you stomped loudly going back upstairs. You swore that if you were supposed to become a murderer one day, that this man was gonna be victim number one. This whole 'lets annoy her' process would be great fuel for you to slice that slender throat of his.

Shutting the door again, you walked into the kitchen, dived in the fridge and decided to stuff yourself with pancakes. Screw Dean and his pizza, you were not going to give him satisfaction with ordering anything else tonight.

“So, he’s a confident man,” Jo stated after you told her about Winchester’s behavior.

You came to Harvelle's to grab something for Sunday dinner; they had the most delicious menu in the whole town and no one could change your mind. You were sitting with a blonde girl at the table, outside their restaurant, sipping on some light drinks Ellen had prepared for the two of you. Ash was already working on your meal in the kitchen while Jo was taking her break so she could sit with you and listen about your neighbour under the floor. It took you way longer to describe everything and you felt kind of bad for that. You weren’t the type who whined about such things and forced friends to hear about your bullshit, but now you were desperate to get it all off your chest.

“Confident asshole,” you corrected her, “I just wish he could finally get his ass kicked, you know? I can’t live with this man! He’s an arrogant, offensive, little, annoying dickhead!” you said, crossing your arms on your chest.

After a few seconds of silence, you looked up at Jo. She was watching you, clearly trying not to smile; her lips were twitching and small dimples had already appeared. You knew her long enough to know that she was all ready to tease you about this whole situation.

“What?” you barked at her and she lifted her hands in defense.

“Nothing!” She shrugged. “Just, your relationship with him seems to have been… rough since the very beginning.”

“It is! I really wanna punch him!” Jo lifted her brows, a smile breaking on her face.

“Just punch him?” The suggestion was shining in her eyes and your shoulders fell down at the subtext.

“Jo!” she started giggling when she heard your resigned tone. “Just because I’m having a heated exchange with a hot guy doesn’t mean that I wanna fuck him!”

“Oh, so you think he’s hot?” she asked innocently, taking a sip from her glass.

“Yes, but he’s an idiot and I would never let him in my panties, come on,” you scoffed as you rolled your eyes. The last thing you would ever do was having sex with this man.

“Sure.”

And you knew Jo didn’t believe you. To be honest, if you thought about it really, really hard, you weren’t sure if you believed yourself…

The door opened and Ash came out with a smile, your food packed in a thermal box.

“There you go, girl. We do not accept any complaints,” he said, winking at you and you chuckled, taking the meal from him.

“Thanks, Ash.” He saluted you and vanished as quickly as he appeared. You glanced at your phone laying on the table and sighed seeing the time. “Okay babe, I’m gonna go. School’s calling and I bothered you enough anyway.”

“Oh stop it, you’re not bothering me, don’t be stupid,” she said smiling, and hugged you tight. “Text me when you get home.”

“Sure thing.” You winked and walked backwards, watching her disappear inside the RoadHouse.

Smiling to yourself, you turned around and crossed the street. At first your thoughts were filled with Jo who could always put you in a good mood but then they gradually transitioned into someone else.

You didn’t know if it was your overworked system or what Jo had teased you about that caused Dean to stick inside your mind, but you wanted to scream; it was like he had nested in there. Not only was he disturbing your living space, but he was now invading your mental space as well. What’s more, it wasn’t exactly hard to not think about him in a nasty way, and you hated it. The truth was that he was attractive from his fluffy hair to his toes, and more than once you had caught yourself daydreaming about his hands and mouth on you.

You couldn’t help it. The way he looked was not fair and Jo made you realise that if not for his attitude, you would have slept with him a long time ago. Thankfully, in the moments you felt weakness for him, he was doing something that pissed you off to the point where you wanted to bite his head off.

You really wanted to get even with him, you had to bounce the ball. The need to bite back was so big that you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the paint store. The bulb in your head flickered on and a devil smile angled your lips. Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe it was childish, maybe it was crossing the line, but you had suffered enough thanks to this jerk.

Buying one can of pink chalk paint, you were muting your common sense that was currently shouting at you. As the saying goes - you only live once. He wanted a fight? You were going to fight. He started to play a strong hand? You were going to do the same. He thought playing with you like that was fun? Well, you were gonna have some fun too. Besides, he wouldn’t realise immediately that the paint would easily wash off, but seeing him panic thinking that his car had been defaced was revenge enough.

With a few last strokes of a paintbrush, you were finished. Straightening your back, you looked down at your work and smiled, satisfied with pink flowers you had drawn on the black surface. They were a nice contrast and you really liked the shape. In all honesty, it kinda burned you to paint this four wheeled beauty, but it wasn’t your fault her owner was a douchebag who deserved a lesson.

The impala was parked in her usual spot, next to the building that was mostly asleep. There were no cameras and due to the late hour, the chance of someone spotting you was small. Besides, you were just a hooded figure, no one would recognise you anyway even with the dim light from a lonely lantern. It was risky, but you were too far gone in your revenge to care. It had been done and you wished you could see Dean’s face in the morning.

Gathering your things you looked around, checking to see if there was anyone you should avoid and you got back to your apartment. After closing the door, you took off your clothes, staying only in leggings and a t-shirt, and decided to make some tea. You had this weird energy bubbling inside of you and it would be a waste to not use it on college papers. Getting comfortable on your couch you started going through materials for one of your projects.

Not expecting any visitors, you jumped slightly while hearing a rapid knocking on your door an hour later. You frowned and stood up, finishing your tea on your way to the entry. What you saw on the other side almost made you smile like an idiot. Dean was boring into you with his eyes; if looks could kill, you would surely be a beautiful corpse by now. His chest was rising and falling heavily, jaw clenched to the point his cheek was twitching and you could see the slight blush coloring on his face. He was wearing his leather jacket but was also in sweats so you assumed he was about to make a quick grocery run or something.

“What the hell?!” he growled at you before you could say a word. Ohhh, he was angry.

“What?” You shrugged innocently, ignoring the weird chill that ran down your spine after hearing the vibrations of his tone.

Dean took a deep breath, doing his best to not shout out. “I wanted to go get some beer and burgers, but guess what. Someone screwed up my car. And you know what? I think it was you.”

He pointed a finger at you, holding keys in his hand. You laughed and leaned on your doorframe, ready to confront him. Satisfaction already tickled your insides, but there was one thing that you had to admit - he was hot when he was angry.

“You really think that I have nothing better to do than mess up your car?” you asked, amused by his flaring nostrils.

"Don't you fucking dare play with me like that," he said firmly, not wanting to yell. "Do you know it's property damage? You broke a law and I can easily get you in trouble."

He was fuming with anger and you were sure that if it was possible, there would be smoke coming out of his ears. You smiled and stood your ground, finding it adorable how he thought he had anything useful against you.

"You have nothing on me. No proof that I was the one who defaced your car," you started, taking two steps to stand inches away from him. "Call the cops and I'm gonna tell them all about the nuisance, the stealing, manipulation and manifestations of aggression all coming from you.”

You stared straight into his eyes, a smart smile not leaving you even for a second; feeling confident in your words. Maybe he had a point, but you weren’t empty handed. You could get punished for what you did and so could he.

“What is your problem, Y/N?!” he asked, pinching his nose, clearly irritated with you. “You keep whining, making problems out of nothing and now painting my damn car?”

“You’re not letting me live in peace!” you raised your voice. “Your loud music, loud car, loud tv, loud you in general! I can’t sleep, I can’t study, I can’t do anything because you’re always there to disturb me!”

“Then leave!” he suggested, raising his tone as well. You were taken aback; lifting your brows you blinked a few times. Was he joking?

“Leave?! Are you kidding me now?! This is my home and just a friendly reminder, I was in here first so maybe you should back off!”

“But you’re the only one having a problem with me!” he yelled, spreading his arms, highlighting the obviousness of his argument.

“Because you’re a manipulative ass! You use your charm, this fucking smile, your shining eyes, and nice language, and the whole building is yours! Even Ian from the 4th floor and he doesn't even like people!”

“Ian is a cool guy!”

“Good!”

You took a breath and opened your mouth to say something more but no words came out. Again, you were convinced that there was no way to come to an agreement with this guy. Further arguments were pointless. Looking at him you shook your head and brushed your hair to the back. The soft smile and look you gave him next, made him frown a little.

“You know what? Fuck you,” you said simply and went to close the door, but his retort didn’t let you.

“You wish.”

Freezing, you locked your eyes with his and in a split second, something shifted in the air. The atmosphere got thick and the tension you had been building for months, now came into play, kinda taking you both by surprise. Dean felt it too, you could see his expression changing. He was trying to read you, trying to understand what was buzzing between you. A part of you wanted to explain it, to show him that you already knew it was sexual tension saying ‘hi’, but as soon as you realised that, you swallowed and forced your rational mask back on.

Shaking off the urge to take steps towards him, you scoffed and sending him one last look, you shut the door without saying anything. Taking two deep breaths, you leaned your forehead on the wooden barricade and closed your eyes.

There was no way in hell you would give in and break. He had everyone else in his fist, but not you. The only person that didn’t fall under his spell, the only one that didn’t let your craving inside take better of you. Dean was still your enemy and a pain in the ass; it was a matter of honour and dignity to stay away.

However, soft knocking made your eyes snap open. No. Darting your head from the door you looked at it, knowing who was behind it but that didn’t even register when you pulled on the door-handle. Dean was supporting his body on his arms that he had placed on both sides of your door, blocking the way. He was looking at you intensely, his breathing quicker than moments ago.

You could see the exact second he made a decision. You knew he was going to do something he shouldn’t and yet, you let him close the gap between you and crush his mouth to yours, cupping your cheeks at the same time. The force he hit you with made you take steps backwards, encouraging him to come in and turn you around so you could unconsciously close the door. His grip was firm, long fingers digging in your neck as hot lips forced yours apart. But your stubbornness caused you to push him away, breaking the connection.

The look you exchanged was a mix of emotions; hate, passion, frustration, lust, confusion, hesitation. This was something completely new for you; needing him was unfamiliar, strange, but at the same time stronger than anything you had felt before when it came to Dean. There was this quiet voice telling you that it was already too late; you tasted it and you wanted it, obviously. The other voice was louder, trying to make you aware of how messed up it's gonna be after, but somehow you didn’t want to listen. Not this time.

"Fuck it."

Saying that, you approached Dean and gripping him by the back of his neck, you pulled him down for a kiss. It was sloppy and deep, all teeth and tongues. He inhaled through his nose, bending down when your nails clawed at his skin. Grabbing you by the waist, he used a little pressure so you walked backwards. You didn’t expect to be pushed against the wall and a surprised gasp escaped you when your back hit it. Looking up at Dean, you noticed how his hungry eyes flickered over your figure and a cocky smirk formed on his face. You mirrored his expression and lifted your chin, so you could suck in his lower lip, biting on it softly. His response was immediate and fierce; he pressed his body to yours, pinning you to the wall completely, kissing you even deeper than before. The heat flooded you, making your cheeks burn and a sweat break.

You moaned and that seemed to spur him on because his hands started travelling all over your body. Doing the same, you aimed for his jacket, pushing it off his broad shoulders so it could land on the floor. The thought of finally discovering what was under his clothes took over your brain and you started to pull on his t-shirt, hazed and eager. But Dean grabbed your wrist and pinned it next to your head, not letting you undress him. You twisted and tugged, trying to break free, but he slid his fingers between yours and you instinctively clenched your palm.

“Don’t fight,” he breathed out, leaving your lips as he dropped to your neck, letting you take a much needed breath.

Leaning your head back you gave him the access to your throat where he licked and sucked, french-kissing your flesh. Your knees buckled a little when his hot lips closed on your pulse point, sending shivers down your spine as his stubble prickled you. Feeling his second hand sneaking under your shirt, you held your breath and jerked on the skin to skin contact. He wasn’t delicate; his long fingers were squeezing and digging, a firm touch making it all the more intense. Using your free hand you fisted his hair, pulling on it. Dean purred, nibbling on your flesh, making your eyes roll. It was like playing tennis, back and forth; you had an answer to each other's movements.

The hunger inside you was growing fast; you were getting more and more impatient and being caged by Dean only made you feel limited. So, naturally, you rebelled, trying to take control; with Dean it was always a competition. But your attempt only caused him to press his body more, his knee coming between your legs, making it harder for you to move. The thin material of your leggings was a weak protection to his touch and you whined when your sensitive area met his thigh. Fidgeting even more, you made him chuckle.

“Stop fighting,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your earlobe between his teeth.

Growling, you turned your head and sunk your teeth into his neck, tasting sweet and salty. Dean hissed and backed away, looking down at you with a surprise in his eyes, brows slightly furrowed. You smiled and angled yourself to speak against his lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t like a fight, Winchester.”

The suggestion was clear and he seemed to understand. Your relationship was already a ticking bomb so why not have a little fun?

The challenging look you gave him was a last jolt and his mode switched. Before you could do anything, he kissed you firmly, letting go of you just to grab on the front of your shirt. Pulling with two hands Dean ripped the fabric in half, revealing your torso, making you smile a devil’s smile. He shook his head in disbelief that you were actually going along with it and grinning, he attacked your jaw. Scraping it with his teeth first, then kissing and going down passed your neck, to your collarbone. Bending his knees so he could reach lower and lower, he proceeded to shrug the destroyed clothing off you and focus on your breasts. Placing sloppy kisses on the curves, Dean moved his hands on your back and unclasped your bra. As soon as it was gone, he sucked in one of your nipples, causing you to arch your chest. Pulling his hair, you grabbed the back of his head, letting him know you enjoyed his work.

Every time his lips touched you, they left burning spots and you could feel yourself getting wetter. Not holding back anymore, you started to roll your hips, seeking the friction his leg could give you. Still playing with your boobs, he caught your hips and added the power to your moves, dragging a moan from you. Glancing down, you spotted the bulge in his sweatpants and realised he was still wearing too much clothes.

“Take that fucking shirt off,” you panted out, grabbing on the piece of clothing on his back.

This time he allowed you to do what you needed, lifting his arms to make your task easier and the second his chest was bare, you used your nails to leave red lines, making him grimace from pain before he kissed you. Caressing his newly exposed body, you felt firm muscles of his strong arms flexing. He wasn’t a gym type of guy, he was soft in some places but firm and strong in general, and that turned you on to the point your stomach flipped.

Suddenly, he pushed on your hips until your butt touched the wall behind you and pulled away from you, straightening himself. You looked at each other, panting and flinching in anticipation. Keeping the eye contact, Dean cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips and slowly slid his hands down your body. You swallowed hard when he hooked his fingers behind your waistband and pulled your leggings down, crouching in front of you.

With a thumping heart you looked down at him, meeting his dark eyes watching you as he kissed your knee, your thigh, your inner thigh; his hands travelling up your legs, leaving goosebumps. You shivered when his hot breath hit your still clothed core. He placed a kiss on your damp panties, making your pussy clench and stopped. Leaning his forehead on your lower stomach, he tried to remain self-control, breathing strongly to calm himself down... and he failed. This whole situation was too much and he had wanted it for way too long to stop now.

Shooting up, he claimed your lips, driving his fingers inside your briefs at the same time. His digits went through your folds, gathering slick and found your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Yeah? Right here?” he whispered and you sucked the air in through your mouth when he drew a circle, pressing harshly on your little nub.

Feeling him smiling, you clung to his neck, keeping him close when he started to make circles on your button. Moaning laughs escaped you, mixed with short breaths as you felt fire filling your veins, tickling sparks running from your clit to every nook of your system. For a moment you lost yourself in the feeling, but your brain woke up when he nudged you, rubbing his dick on your leg.

Opening your eyes, you locked them with his, tracing your palm down his chest and stomach. Somehow, you managed to turn you both around so he was by the wall. You didn’t care about teasing him through his pants so you pushed your hand inside and grabbed his hard shaft. Dean jerked and choked on his breath; the whole foreplay made him ridiculously sensitive.

You smiled satisfied and began to pump him, making his head fall back on the wall. His exposed neck was shining with sweat, throat moving as he swallowed hard. Your biting kink was begging for you to bite him, but the view was too good to not watch. His breathing quickened along with your strokes, his jaw flexing when he opened his mouth to chug. A thick vein popped out on the side of his neck, a guttural whine coming from him when you rubbed your thumb on his tip. Finally, you gave in and closed your lips on his jaw, light stubble pricking your lips. Dean turned his head and palming yours he brought you in for a kiss but you broke it fast, having enough.

"Come on," you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.

Not being able to stay away from each other, you stumbled towards the room, kissing and laughing, getting rid of the rest of the clothes on your way. Hitting the bed you let yourself fall on it, pulling Dean behind you. He hovered above you, using his tongue to play with your nipples as you both climbed up to the headboard. Adjusting the pillows beneath you, you felt his body pressing down, arms sneaking under yours as he kissed you deeply. Rolling his hips, he drove his cock between your folds, poking your clit and you automatically lifted your lower body up on your heels, feeling the electricity running through you. Dean bit down on your lip and pulled on it hard with his teeth, smiling when you hissed.

Without thinking much you just reached between your bodies and guided his cock to your entrance, making him freeze. The look he gave you was a mashup of a question and disbelief, and all it took was your evil smirk. You felt him fisting the sheets under you and with one, mild thrust he slid inside of you. Arching your back you inhaled, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He was stretching you; your walls fluttered around him when he bottomed out, making the two of you give silent moans, your voices stuck in your throats from intensity.

Watching you, he began to move, making you both more and more comfortable with the feeling. Gradually, his pace increased and so did the noises. Your breathy moans and growls filled the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin as Dean's hips waved between your thighs, faster and faster. New layers of sweat covered your bodies as the temperature increased; you felt the omnipresent, pleasurable burning.

Dean kept the rhythm, only stopping for just for a moment to kiss you. Not letting the opportunity pass, you pushed on him and flipped over so you were on top. Looking at you with a smirk, he palmed your asscheeks as you sinked down on him, continuing the activity.

The passion and sensuality made your head spin; Dean’s lustful eyes devouring you alive weren’t helping. You dragged your nails on his flesh again, making him hiss between the sounds. It wasn’t easy to breathe, to think or control yourself; your body started working by itself, speeding up, making you bounce on him while leaning your hands on his chest for support. Dean couldn’t decide where to touch, what part of you he should grab next; his hands were everywhere. Wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck he sat up, changing the angle and gave you this eye-rolling kiss. This asshole knew what he was doing.

A new position allowed you to only roll your hips and you laid back, grabbing Dean’s ankle to make your moves more fluent. He took a handful of your ass, helping you, watching himself sliding in and out of you, growling in pleasure. Tangled together you moved in sync, matching the other’s moves, grinding to empower the sensation. Feeling the coil tightening in your stomach, your head hung back and you exhaled, wailing quietly. A hand flattened on your back and Dean violently pulled you up, pressing your forehead to his. With closed eyes, panting against each other's mouth you chased both of your deliriums. Your pussy fluttered, your nails dug into his neck as you clasped it; the feeling started to overwhelm. The way Dean was moaning and clinging to you made it clear that he felt the same.

Your strength was fading and you found yourself slowing down. Dean’s attempts to continue were in vain as he was becoming weak too, exhaustion and his upcoming release taking over him.

“Y/N,” he warned you and you opened your eyes, looking at him when he reached between you. “I’m gonna-” you kissed him, cutting him off, tugging on his lip with your teeth.

“Stay inside,” you whispered, watching the surprise flash through his features.

The serious, assuring look on your face made his eyes roll back and the noise he made, clamped your stomach. Using your last strands of your power, you sped up, Dean joining you by hitting the right spot inside you. His fingers found your clit again, rubbing on it fast and you moaned loudly, feeling your muscles tightening.

A few more strokes, a few more moves and the crushing wave of pleasure hit you; your inner walls pulsated, squeezing Dean’s cock as you grabbed firmly on his neck, holding on for dear life. His thrusts went more erratic but also were more powerful; he was pounding inside you slow but hard, putting his forehead between your breasts. You were shaking and his breath fanning over your tummy only added more goosebumps.

Then you felt his arms wrapping around you and he hugged you tight. Pulling you close, Dean thrusted for the last time and with a low, throaty groan he stilled; his cock throbbing inside you, allowing you to milk him as you were still coming. The two of you were shivering, entwined in each other, panting and sweaty. Your heart was hammering and you could feel Dean’s galloping as well.

After calming down a bit, he let go of you and fell back on the bed, hitting the pillows with a sigh. Licking your lips, you looked down at him and smiled, seeing his eyes sparkling with joy and bliss. He laughed, caressing your thighs and then pulled you down for a kiss. It was sweet and soft, without tongue, just lips brushing yours; completely different then those earlier.

Oh, so he could be gentle too.

Cupping his face, you pecked his mouth a few times and then rolled off of him, standing up to make a quick run to your bathroom to clean yourself, leaving the door open.

"Hey!" you heard him yelling not even two minutes later, after you splashed your face with cold water. "Is it weird that I wanna cuddle?!"

You smiled on his words, shaking your head. Asshole also appeared to be a softie cuddler. Can this evening be any weirder?

"Yes!" you yelled back, laughing as you put down the cloth you were using to dry yourself.

"Cool!" he announced and then changed his tone, "I don't care."

Chuckling, you turned the light off on your way out and grabbed a random, oversized t-shirt from your drawer to put it on, letting it slip from one of your shoulders. Dean was making himself comfy in your bed, watching you carefully with his arm under his head and a stupid grin on his face.

"What?" you asked as you climbed on the bed, joining him under the covers.

"Nothing," he shrugged and shifted so you could fit in, resting your head on his chest.

Throwing your arm over his middle, you hugged him as his fingers came to trace the skin on your shoulder. A comfortable silence fell over you as you cuddled, enjoying the warmth, but you knew his mind was running, just like yours.

You didn’t like this tendency of yours to overthink, but the current situation was not only unexpected but also confusing. What now? Lovers? Relationship? Friends with benefits? Enemies with benefits? Because, you had to stay honest, if he did something that would piss you off, no matter how good he was in bed, you would still punch his perfect nose.

"I'm sorry." His words surprised you, detaching you from your thoughts. "For being a noisy neighbour."

You could hear the genuine guilt in his voice and that immediately made you feel like a bitch, so you said the first thing that came to your mind.

"I'm sorry for screwing up your car," you mumbled and quickly regretted it.

"Ha! So it was you!" His victory voice made your eyes roll and you poked his side, annoyed by the fact he dragged a confession from you so easily.

"But if it makes you feel any better, the paint is made of chalk so it’ll easily wash off," you said, unable to help the silly smile that spread across your face when you saw the relieved but shocked expression that he wore.

“Well played,” he chuckled, the sound rumbling under your ear which you found oddly comforting. So you snuggled more, melting into the intimacy.

You had to look the truth straight into the eye; maybe he did infuriate you like no other but there was something else. A pull, an urge to blow off the constant steam forming between you. You wanted him and something was telling you that from now on you won't be knocking on door number 12 just to fuss about loud music.

And once Jo finds out, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :) Feel free to leave some feedback. ASKs and DMs are open, don’t be afraid to message me. Every word from you is gold <3

Tag list is open! :)

If something is not working, you weren’t on the tag list even if you wanted to, you can’t send an ask or you didn’t receive the notification about me tagging you in any of my fics, please contact me in DM’s.

Tag list: @deanwanddamons @jay-and-dean @katehuntington @winchest09 @talesmaniac89 @roonyxx @bunkerconfessions @akshi8278 @snffbeebee @lady-pswrld @rvgrsbrns​ @polina-93 @teresa-67 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @mrspeacem1nusone @flamencodiva @cutiecowgirl @waywardbaby @flashxspn @lyarr24

[strawb3rryw00]

Late Night ♡ woo wonjae x female reader

warnings -> swearing

synopsis -> y/n works hard in her studio day and night and begins to worry her boyfriend who works right next door.

fluff and some suggestive shit.

also there’s a little bit of jay park x reader in here too

~♡~

4:25 am.

You let out a long sigh, slamming your computer shut after listening to your track. You had recently joined AOMG as their youngest member. You were a prodigy, having only been rapping for a year when Jay saw you performing at a small show just two years ago. No one in the company had a doubt in your skill, all of them praising you highly on the single you released after joining.

But you were a perfectionist. And you were determined to prove to everyone that your talent was undeniable. You were labeled as the hidden ace of AOMG by a magazine company after a special performance at one of Simon D’s concerts.

Your lyrical abilities and flow were unmatched by most artists in the game. You had a unique musical and physical style which caused you to have a large fan base, doubling in size when AOMG confirmed your relationship with Woo Wonjae, another artist under the label.

You were featured on his album, his fans becoming yours after hearing your talent paired with his.

But that only made you put more pressure on yourself.

You’ve locked yourself in your studio for days on end. Wanting to get your first full length album utterly perfect for your fans, the company, and yourself. You’ve gone days without sleeping or eating, earning the worry of your label mates.

Just three hours ago Jay was in your space lecturing you. He made sure to take care of every artist under him, checking up on them despite his busy schedule. While having two companies and multiple rappers and vocalists under his labels, you were the one he was always most worried about.

“Y/N man,” He spoke to you casually in english. “I love your drive and effort, but you need to go home sometime tonight.”

You frowned, pausing your song you had played. “But Jay,” You rolled up your sleeves and exposed your tattooed arms. “I’m just trying-“

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Jay cut you off, his tone a little harsh. He hated talking to you like that, but it’s what you needed. “Your friends? They snitch on you. Especially your little boy next door,” He referred to Wonjae, who was probably working away in his studio as well.

Since your boyfriend was also an artist, he understood your mindset and left you alone due to your request. Of course you guys still talked and spent time together, yet it was minimal during this time.

“I should not have to hear that you’re in here day and night. I gave you the full fucking luxury studio as a gift, thinking you’d take care of yourself. But youre basically living here. The shower is for occasional late nights y/n,” Jay furrowed his eyebrows at you, standing up and sighing. “I’ll force you to move to a smaller one, don’t think I wont.”

Jay opened his arms for you to stand up and hug him, which you did. He held you tightly, resting his head on yours and sighing again. “You stress me out. I better hear that you’ve gone home by tomorrow afternoon.” He says sternly, pulling away and looking at you.

“And you better fucking eat babe,” He always spoke to you in a friendly manner but it was never flirty. He genuinely cared for you and the other artists. And it was normal for you both to use babe in a casual manner. Despite his lecturing and the wide age gap, you both were very good friends.

“I will,” You smiled at him, pulling your phone out to find something to order.

He exits your studio and you sigh, sitting down on the couch you added. Your studio felt more like home than your apartment. You decorated it as such, even adding a cat tower for when you have your feline roomie with you, which is usually always because you don’t like leaving the ginger cat alone all the time.

After he left you went back to working diligently. You had finished three songs in the five months you’ve been working on the album. You didn’t have an actual deadline but you knew your fans were waiting. You had several features you wanted on this album as well. Hoody has been waiting for you to finish your part of this song so she can add her magical vocals to it. But you hadn’t quite found what you were missing from it.

Your phone lit up, a message from Jay on it. ‘I have your location ma’am’ The message read, earning a laugh from you.

‘lol’ you respond, setting your phone back down. You look at your lock screen and smile. It’s a picture of you and Woo that a fan took of you both performing on stage together. It was the first time you performed with him after it being confirmed you both were dating. In the picture you’re rapping to the crowd, squatted down a little and Wonjae is looking at you with the happiest look plastered on his face.

At the thought of your lover you decide it’s time to take a break. You get up and stretch, hearing your back pop, slipping back on your slides. You tend to stay in your socks while working, it’s more comfortable to you.

You walk out the studio and next door, smiling as you read your boyfriends name on the door. You walk in without knocking, knowing he never minds.

He’s in the booth, rapping his verse to Kunst, who looks at you with tired eyes. You stand behind his chair, resting your hands on his shoulders and giving them a slight squeeze while listening to your boyfriend.

You could listen to him rap all day. His deep voice was so beautiful in your ears. “Are you about to leave?” Kunst asks you. “Jay told us to make sure you leave.”

You shake your head. “Not yet.” You say, earning a sigh from the taller male.

Wonjae exits the booth, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. “Ahh finally taking a break mm?” His arms wrap around your shoulders and pull you close. You inhale his scent, closing your eyes in comfort. He doesn’t let you go, and holds you while talking to his friend.

“Imma head out, you did good.” Kunst gets his things together and pats you on the head before wishing you both farewell and leaving.

Wonjae kisses the top of your head and yawns. “Let’s eat baby,” He says softly. You nod and slide your hands under his shirt and run your fingers along his back, his favorite thing.

“I missed you,” You say into his chest, still with your eyes closed. He chuckles, his hand resting on the back of your neck while his fingers play with the few pieces of hair that fall from your bun.

“I missed you too, you been busy huh?” He pulls away slightly to look down at you. You meet his eyes and give him a tired smile which he returns.

“Yea you could say that.” He laughs at your answer which is music to your ears.

Now having been in his arms you don’t want to return to your studio for the day. You really did miss him but work is very important to you.

Wonjae sits down in the chair his friend was occupying previously and pulls you into his lap. Your legs hang over one arm while your back rests against the other. You lean into him, his arms sliding around you once more and pulling you closer. You tuck your head into his neck and relax to the sound of his deep breaths.

“It’s almost 6 am,” Wonjae hums, his fingers tracing the outlines of the tattoos on your exposed arm. “I’m tired.” He sighs. You know he’s hinting that you guys should leave, especially after Jay having said something.

“Me too,” You admit, placing a gentle kiss on his jaw and yawning. “Let’s go.” You add, reluctantly leaving his lap.

He stares at you a little shocked. “You’re finally listening huh? I’m impressed.” He stands up as well, laughing when you hit his arm.

“Go get your things jagi,” He waves you off.

After getting your things and your kitty, you lock up your studio and meet by his while he locks up as well. He smiles at you, sliding his bag on his shoulders and wrapping his arm around your shoulders while you both make your way to the parking garage.

“Let’s go get some early food and then go to my place yea?” Wonjae offers, guiding you to his car. “Ron can come with us and play with my babies,” He refers to your cat that you named after the ginger wizard.

You nod, getting in the passenger seat in his car and setting Ron on your lap. You inhale the comforting smell of his car, not having been in his car nor outside for a week now.

Wonjae drives down the empty road to a restaurant near his apartment that’s open early on weekdays. His hand rests just above your knee, his index finger reaching out to pet the cat on your lap. “No work talk today.” He says, looking at you as he parks. “You’re taking a break.” You smile, loving how he already knows how you are.

After you fill your stomachs, you’re on the way to his home. Even more tired now that you’ve ate. Once parked, he grabs his bag as well as yours and leads you into the building and up to his apartment. Unlocking the door, he rests his hand on your back to usher you in where you set Ron down while slipping your feet out of your shoes.

Ron immediately mingles with Wonjae’s three cats who make their way over to the two of you, the four of them following you to Wonjae’s room.

“Do you want to shower with me?” Wonjae asks softly, cupping your cheek into his hand and rubbing the pad of his thumb along the bone. You lean into his touch, kissing his palm. “Yes please.”

“Okay, I’ll go start it.” He rushes to the bathroom and you hear the water being started. You undress yourself, throwing the clothes in the basket he has in the corner of his room. Once you’re completely stripped you push open the bathroom door where you see Wonjae beginning to take off his clothes as well.

After sliding off his shirt he looks at you and smirks. “Mmm,” He hums, pulling you closer to him by your hips. “I missed looking at this.” He leans down and places a kiss on your neck, licking a stripe to your ear and flicking your lobe with the tip of his tongue. It sends a shiver down your spine, your eyes closing in bliss.

He knows your body like the back of his hand, he cherishes every piece of you. He looks at you, smiling. “I’ll fuck you later,” He kisses your lips, lingering for a moment before pulling away.

He finishes undressing and you both get into the shower. He hugs you under the warm water much like he did while you were in his studio but this time it’s much more intimate due to the skin to skin contact. Your breasts press against him, head tucked into his neck. The warm water cascades down your body, causing you to grow tired.

After you both wash up, you find yourself clad in his hoodie and sweats that are just a little big. Wonjae waits for you on the bed, the four cats finding their way to join him. He lays on his back, scrolling through his phone.

You crawl into the bed, snuggling into his side with your head resting on his shoulder. He immediately puts his phone down and rolls over on his side to wrap his arms around you too pull you closer. You feel him breathing in your scent, his legs pushing to get in between yours.

“Jay isn’t letting you back into the studio until tomorrow and I’m forcing you to lay with me all day .” Wonjae mumbles.

You laugh a little, feeling grateful to have such caring people in your life. “Your album can wait for a day. I’ve missed you.” He adds, pulling you even closer to him.

You both fall silent, your eyes closing. You’ve never felt more content and comfortable than how you do now. You feel one of the cats snuggle into your back and purr against you.

“Wonjae,” You began, earning a hum from the half asleep man. “I love you,”

His hand slides under your shirt and gently scratches your back. “I love you.” He says, resting his hand on the small of your back.

You find yourself slowly falling asleep. You know you’re going to be asleep for the whole day and you’re honestly looking forward to it. Especially with Wonjae and the cats.

He’s right, your album can wait.

~♡~

lol i had to write another for wonjae. it’s so hard for me to find fics for him so i jus been writing my own.

[ethanesimp]

PROMISES // T.R.

Pairing: Thomas Raggi x Best friend Fem! Reader

Summary: Thomas lulls your daughter to sleep after he wakes up to the sound of her crying

Word Count: 1.2k 

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex and asshole ex-boyfriends

 Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

Taglist: @gretavanfleetlove​  @superchrystaldrug​ @victoriadeangeliswifey​   @ethaneskin​  @dont-let-me-drown-in-you​  @bidet-and-legolas​

A/N: To make up for all the angst I give you this fluffy piece :)  If you’ve seen this before, it’s probably because this has been written and posted on my other blog @pparkersbitch as a Tom Holland fanfiction (which has now been deleted). It’s the same person and I’m not stealing anyone’s work :) 

Thomas and the band had been working on their most recent album closer to home. Somehow, Thomas had persuaded his friends into renting another home studio that time around. While he loved and enjoyed traveling around the world while on tour and recording new music, he didn't have the heart to leave his best friend alone after only a few months of giving birth. 

He had agreed on helping you raise the baby the moment you two realized how much of an asshole your ex-boyfriend was. You had shown up at his home one afternoon to tell him about your pregnancy and a huge part of you thought he'd be thrilled, you really did. All you got from him was a disgusted look and the accusation that you had probably cheated on him with Thomas and that's how you had gotten pregnant because he was sure you had always used protection when having sex. Which clearly wasn't true. 

After you told him everything, he was fuming. That day Thomas promised you and your baby to help with anything you needed because even though he wasn't the baby's father, you were still family and Thomas would do anything for his family.

You had been roommates of his and Ethan’s for years before you got pregnant and part of you had been afraid they would throw you out so they wouldn’t have to deal with a screaming and crying baby. Every fear of that was thrown out the window the moment they met your daughter for the first time though. She had them both wrapped around her tiny fingers within a few hours of being in the world.

He’d even insisted on you moving into the home studio with the band. You��d turned his offer down at first, not wanting to bother your four friends, but they didn’t listen and they took the chance to move her cradle and some of the furniture into their rented home while you were out with your daughter.

As much as Thomas loved his sleep and would probably kill whoever thought of waking him up, he didn’t complain when your daughter’s cries echoed through the house that very night. He sat up on the bed and stared at the time on his phone. It was only 1 AM, which meant you had just fallen asleep about an hour back because you had been working on a report your boss had asked for. 

He cursed under his breath. You had barely been sleeping lately. It hadn’t seemed to process into your boss’s mind that now you had a baby to take care of because he was bombarding you with a week’s worth of work in one day. While you did get the chance to work from home until further notice, Thomas was still mad that your boss had no shame in overworking you. 

Thomas didn’t hesitate to get out of bed and go to the nursery. He was hoping he’d be able to put her back to sleep or hush her cries before you heard her. You were a heavy sleeper, which was why he was hoping you wouldn’t wake up right away. 

A smile made its way to his face as he saw the little girl lying in her cradle. You had put her to bed with a warm pair of socks and more blankets than she probably needed. One sock wasn’t on her foot anymore and one of the blankets had been pushed aside.

Thomas lifted the small baby. Even though he knew babies cried and that’s what they did most of the time, it still hurt him to hear her cry. He wanted nothing more than to remove any type of pain from her life so he’d never see her cry. He cradled her in his arms as he let his weight shift from one foot to the other, “Shh princess, it’s fine, I’m here.”

He walked around the room as he softly swayed her from side to side because her cries wouldn’t stop. Thomas had already checked and she didn’t need her nappy changed and he spent around six minutes walking around the room until the idea occurred to him that she might be hungry. 

Thomas ran out of the room, careful when walking down the stairs so he wouldn’t fall or drop her. He was silently begging that you had left her a bottle on the fridge or something because he had no idea how to prepare formula and he wasn’t about to wake you up to ask. 

The young man cheered internally when he saw the bottle the moment he opened the fridge. He had seen you heat up her bottles enough times to know he wasn’t meant to put it in the microwave. Thomas heated up water on the kettle and poured it into a bowl. He left the bottle soaking in the hot water for a few minutes. He wasn’t sure if that was what he was meant to do, but it seemed to work nonetheless.

Once he made sure the temperature was alright, he sneaked back into the baby’s room and sat on the rocking chair in the corner of the room. She was still crying at the top of her little lungs, so he hoped that it’d be enough to get her back to sleep.

He rocked them both back and forth as she slowly drank the milk in the bottle. Her crying had stopped completely, which he was extremely thankful for. Thomas looked down at her in adoration. Even if she was only a few months old, he had already noticed small ways in which she was just like her mommy and it warmed his heart. He still resented her father so much it made his blood boil whenever someone mentioned his name. Both the little girl and her mom were like two angels sent from heaven to brighten up his existence.

He leaned in to kiss her forehead and whispered, “I promise I’ll always take care of you and your mommy, I  love you,” He knew she probably didn’t understand a word he was saying, but he had made his promise and he planned to keep it.

Once she had finished her bottle, it only took Thomas a few minutes of cradling her and singing lullabies for her to fall asleep. He set her back down and draped the blanket over her small body. Thomas decided he’d stay in the room for a few more minutes in case she woke up again, so he sat down on a couch that was right next to her cot with his guitar on his lap as he played the strings softly. 

— 

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you did was get up and check on your daughter. You had slept peacefully for the first time in months without a single interruption, which you found oddly suspicious.

A smile brighter than the sun appeared on your face at the sight in front of you. Thomas had fallen asleep right next to Valerie’s crib, with his guitar halfway on his lap and halfway on the floor. You also saw the empty milk bottle by the dresser and silently thanked whoever was listening for bringing someone as amazing as Thomas into your life.

[potter-imagines]

Smoking 🍃 w/ Your Boyfriend Fred Weasley...

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader  Prompt: Thought this was an interesting idea since I think we can all agree the Weasley Twins were def dealers lol

 (I’m still on vacation I just had this one in my drafts so I finished it up)

Warning: mature, sexual, weed, smoking, swearing, probs more.  If mentions of drugs makes you uncomfortable or you just don’t like it, don’t read this please! as implied by the title, this is literally all about what smoking with Fred Weasley would include 

-      Okay lets face it

-       Everyone and their owls know Fred and George Weasley were the best, most trusted, ‘flower’ dealers in Hogwarts 🍃🍃

-       You knew this before you started dating Fred

-       It just came as a bonus after getting together

-       Fred and George are almost always a little high

-       They sell carts, wax, edibles and flower

-       Like they’ve got it all, and the best quality

-      Their edibles are only for the brave; half the time you get an out of this world high, and other times, your skin is bright pink for a week from their trick

-       Lee Jordan also helps them with sales, the three of them are by far the biggest stoners in your year- probably in the whole castle

-       Seeing as most Slytherins’ did lines in the bathroom and in their dorms, Fred and George hardly sold to Slytherins

-       Most of the money the twins make goes towards saving for their dream joke shop

-       But Fred loves to buy you gifts when he has the chance

-       Like flowers, a bracelet, butterbeer, candies, books, etc.

-       He adores spoiling you

-       Fred never makes you pay if you wanna pick up from him

-       But he usually prefers you smoke with him or him and George

-       “You’re just so adorable when you’re high, sweetheart, I don’t wanna miss a thing. Plus, I’m scared you’ll tweak like a minx if you’re alone.”

-       Munchies galore

-       You guys will smoke late at night in their dorm with Lee

-       George is the designated snack man and will sneak into the kitchen before your smoke session

-       Lee shoves towels under the door and closes the vents

-       You would probably be the one enchanting the room so the smell doesn’t get out, but Fred really couldn’t care if anyone smelled it

-       You’ll usually smoke out the window, then trudge over to Fred’s bed and plop onto of him

-       “Jeeze, I think someone took one too many hits.”

-       Fred, George, and Lee will mess around, laughing loudly as they pass a blunt amongst the group

-       If it’s your first few times smoking, you’d probably just sit in Fred’s lap on the ground, staring off at the floor

-       Fred loves to tease you when you’re high

-       “Earth to Y/n- come back to us please.”

-       “Lovie, you’re eyes, they’re bloodshot as hell!”

-       Lots of kisses

-       You guys don’t make out too much after smoking as it’s nearly impossible for the both of you

-       Dry mouth is a bitch

-       Fred is vvv handsy when high

-       Like he needs to be touching your skin somehow

-       Whether he places you on his lap with his arms around you

-       Or laying together in his bed

-       Or holding hands on your walk back to the castle after smoking in the forest

-       Likes to pinch your butt when you’re walking up the stairs

-       He doesn’t really like when you’re high in public

-       He can tell when you’re nervous and start getting fidgety, so he’ll ask you to go on a walk with him to calm you down

“Angel, let’s go to the lake, yeah? Think you could use some fresh air, love.”

-       Fred will help you if you’re using a bong

-       “Here, love, just breathe it in until I tell you to stop and I’ll lift the top.”

-       COUGHING IN A SIN IN THEIR DORM

-       Whoever coughs first is labeled as a ‘little bitch’ according to George

-       Fred scolds Lee and George when they try to make fun of you for coughing

-       Like will murder them with his eyes and slap ts out of George’s arm

-       “Leave her alone… you know she doesn’t smoke as much as us… it’s completely normal, darling.” “Merlin’s sake, Fred. We’re just teasing her, mate. I think you could use the hit next him, maybe it’ll calm your hormones.”

-       George and you will have heated life debates

-       “No, George! Dinosaurs were here before people!” “That is not true, Y/n. Humans ruled the earth before those vicious stompers came roaming about. The dinosaurs- or should I say dinomurders- they killed all of humanity! They stomped on them, trapped the kids in those jeeps trying to eat them and ruined the kid’s fun and made destroyed the theme park-“ “George… that’s Jurassic Parks. It’s a fucking movie, you git.”

-       Fred likes to wrap his Gryffindor tie around your head and putting his sweaters over you “Aw, you look so cute, darling. I love seeing you in my clothes but my favorite thing is seeing you with nothing on at all.” “Fred! You can’t say that in front of George and Lee-“ “Oh believe me, Y/n. We sleep only feet away from you two- we’ve heard a lot worse. A lot worse.”

-       You guys will just lay around laughing for most of the night

-       You favorite times were when Fred and George would start talking about their childhood and sharing hilarious stories

-       George likes to mess with Fred when he’s high

-       For example

-       He’ll throw his arm around you and lazily lean into your side

-       Fred would watch closely from only a few feet away

-       George would then whisper into your ear, causing giggles to erupt from your chest

-       Which makes Fred jerk in annoyance

-       The weed didn’t help control his jealous- it magnified it if anything

-       Typically, he wouldn’t care since he knew George and you were extremely close friends

-       But Fred always got a little more… horny and possessive when the weed hit his bloodstream

-       Fred would pout until you noticed him and would comfort him

-       “Freddie, what’s wrong, bubba? You look so sad, aww.”

-       His jealously would diminish the second you moved away from George to his side

-       He loves when you hold his hand

-       Your favorite thing to do when high is play with his red, vibrant hair or when he would stroke and pet yours

-       Fred likes to attempt a braid in your hair

-       But he just ends up twisting two strands of hair in a coil then wrapped your black hair tie at the end

-       The gleeful, proud look on his face afterwards melted your heart so much you couldn’t tell him he failed miserably at a braid

-       You guys will place bets on who will slump first

-       It’s usually you or George

-       Fred and Lee will stay up until morning talking about life, school, quidditch, life goals, and anything else

-       Nights that you did get high with Fred in his dorm, he’d always insist that you sleep in his bed

-       He didn’t like taking the risk of you walking alone to your dorm room and risk getting caught

-       The last thing he wanted was you in trouble when he could’ve prevented it

-       You guys like to sneak into the kitchen after hours and make edibles together

-      Preferably marshmallow bar edibles or cookies

-       You liked to bring things with you for your smoke sessions with the twins

-       Like coloring books

-       A blanket, since Fred only sleeps with two which just seems criminal

-       A water bottle !!! this is a must

-       And some vanilla cherry Chapstick, Fred’s favorite

-       Fred’s favorite spot to smoke in along the Black Lake at night

-       Coming here with Fred will usually end with the both of you swimming in the lake

-       Whether it’s because he pushed you, you pushed him, or it was decided in the moment mutually that midnight was the perfect time for a swim

-      You liked smoking out by the lake as it was relaxing and fun with Fred

-       But you much preferred his dorm- it was the safest option by far

-       Fred loves getting high alone with you

-       Typically in his room as your roommates didn’t want people constantly in and out of the room as where Fred, George, and Lee were used to it

-       They made a handful of sales from their dorm room

-       Like a sinful amount 

-       It was by far the easiest way

-       Fred would light some candles before you arrived

-       A variety of sweets and snacks were sprawled against his bed

-        And warm fuzzy socks laid out for you 

-       He’d pack the bowl, then open the window

-       A blanket was thrown across the ledge so you could sit more comfortably

-       “What a gentleman!”

-       After smoking, Fred would carry you back to his bed

-       Most nights, you guys would just cuddle and whisper to each other

-       Fred never misses an opportunity to kiss you

-       On your lips

-       Forehead

-       Cheek

-       Nose

-       Neck (which will usually lead to something else with this boy)

-       Anywhere

-       Continuously giggling all night

-       Fred and you share your high thoughts

-       “But, just hear me out here. Is there another word for synonym?”

-       “Babe, who do you think came up with the alphabet? And how the fuck did they put the alphabet shit in alphabetical order.” “Darling, I am way too baked to even remember what fucking goes in an alphabet.”

-       High sex

-       Fred makes you feel so comfortable

-      Compliments you profusely 

-       Lot of laughing

-       He lovesssss going down on you when you’re both baked

-       Cause you make the cutest little noises, euphoria taking over your sense

-       He can stay down there for hours just basking in your sweet moans

-       Favorite is missionary so he can see every reaction gracing your face

-       Is only brave enough to try new sex adventures when he’s either high or drunk

-       Discovers that you both very much so enjoy his hand wrapped around your neck as he thrusts into you

-       And when you get on top

-       His touchy side comes out the most in these moments

-       Sloppy sex

-       But still vvvv fulfilling and pleasurable

-       He’ll whisper in your ear as his pace quickens

-       “You look so beautiful, sweetheart. So pure but so dirty just for me.”  

-       “Merlin, you’re bloody breathtaking with my fingers in your mouth, angel.”

-       “Freddie, you feel so good.”

-       You both finish within a matter of minutes, never lasting long when in this state

-       “…That was the best sex I’ve ever had, ever.” “Fred, lovie, you say that every time we have sex.”

“Cause it just keeps getting better and better!”

-       Cuddling for the rest of the night

-       Always making sure you’re dressed before George or Lee turn in for the night

-       Fred would fall asleep first when it was just the two of you

-       He talks in his sleep, nearly every hour he’d mutter something

-       In an odd way, you found it comforting

-       Especially when it’s your name he’s mumbling

-       Falling asleep in Fred’s arms

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part Seven

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: Oh hey look, more fluff! With a pinch of self-doubt! SO Sorry about that. Summary: You'd told Marcus at the start of this to treat it like an undercover assignment, and maybe he really was going the distance— treating this like an operation, putting himself into the mindset first thing in the morning.

Jill had been up with the sun, preparing food for the barbecue that afternoon. You’d made it a point to set your alarm to get up early and offer your help. But it had taken you a little while to get out of bed.

You and Marcus had been sleeping in bed together for the past three nights. You had been a little nervous at the beginning, sure - you hadn’t shared a bed with anyone for a while. But Marcus was the perfect gentleman when he was awake. The day you'd made the favor bags, you'd awoken to Marcus’ body had been curled around yours. His hand was resting lightly atop your hip, a touch that had been easy for you to draw yourself out from under. But this morning… This morning, you’d woken up cuddled up against Marcus. You were curled up against his side, your arm stretched across his middle. When you’d glanced up, you’d found Marcus just coming up from sleep, himself. Rather than moving away, you’d found yourself frozen, like he’d suddenly spot you if you moved. Marcus had just glanced down at you, murmured a soft, "Good morning,", and smiled sleepily, asking if you’d slept well as his hand had smoothed over your arm.  You’d relaxed a little, nodded, and rested your chin on Marcus’ chest. His sleepy smile had widened, his fingers trailing aimlessly over the back of your hand as the two of you had chatted about the last couple of days. You’d already shut off your alarm, knew that you should get up, and help Jill - that was why you’d set the alarm in the first place. But you were so comfortable, and Marcus seemed more than happy to let lay there and soak up some of his warmth. You did finally manage to pull yourself out of his arms, shower and dress. You’d settled on the edge of the bed to pull on your socks and house slippers. Marcus had cuddled up to you, still sleep-ruffled as he toyed with a loose strong on your shirt and chatted with you. It was another ten minutes before you’d managed to get yourself downstairs. -- Marcus' easy touches and your murmured conversations weighed heavily on your mind all morning. You'd told Marcus at the start of this to treat it like an undercover assignment, and maybe he really was going the distance— treating this like an operation, putting himself into the mindset first thing in the morning. And if he was— well, you couldn't fault him for it. It had been your advice, after all.

When Marcus had made it into the kitchen, finally, he found you at the counter with Jill and Marnie. After you’d offered your services, you’d been given your pick of the spare aprons and put to work chopping potatoes for the potato salad. Marcus crowded up behind you, resting his hands on your hips and his forehead on your shoulder as he’d waited for the coffee to brew (between yourself and Marnie, you’d wiped out the previous pot before he could make it downstairs). “You excited for later?” He asked softly as he shifted to rest his chin where his forehead had been. “Mhm,” You hummed softly, eyes set on your work, fingers working steadily at your task, “Are you?” “Sure,” He conceded, “Be nice to see some old friends...Family…” You glanced at Marcus, holding a chopped piece of cooked potato up to his lips. He hummed, sucking it from between your fingertips. Your skin prickled with heat as his lips brushed against the pad of your finger. “Thanks,” He mumbled around the tiny morsel before he’d turned his head, nuzzling into your neck. You’d felt the looks that Jill and Marnie were giving you, heard one of them murmur, “Adorable”. Marcus’ hands squeezed lightly at your hips, like a silent, ‘They’re buying it’. You tipped your head to the side, lightly resting your head against his for a few seconds before straightening up again. They were buying it. And if you weren’t careful, you were going to start buying it, too. 

--

It was times like this that you could tell Marcus was glad that you’d made it a point to practice your story as much as you had. Maybe he was starting to treat it like the two of you were undercover, but there was still that half-second panicked squeezing of your hand before he answered a question about your ‘relationship’. The two of you had gotten pretty good at this, though, and by the time the barbecue was in full swing, you were casually draped over one another, finishing the other’s sentences, leaning into endearments like, ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ and, once, from you, ‘darling’. And maybe you should’ve felt a little bad, if only for the way some of Marcus’ family was cooing over the two of you, teasing him for being so lovestruck, but with Marcus, it was just so goddamn...easy. Everything felt so easy. When he tucked you under his arm, you felt like you fit perfectly into his side; you didn’t worry about the fact that you knew so few people. You didn’t stress yourself out about remembering names because, after the wedding, you were probably never going to see them again. “You doin’ okay?” You asked lightly, rubbing Marcus’ back gently as one of the members of his old band stepped away from you to get some food. “Yeah,” He nodded, “I uh… I think I’m alright. Are you?” “You haven’t cut off the circulation in my hand yet, so, yeah,” You teased, “I’m good.” Marcus chuckled, leaning in and brushing a kiss to your temple before he turned, looking around. You felt him go tense, and you frowned. “What is it?” “Uh… Spotted someone.” “Ex-wife?” “No. The...The woman Marnie was going to set me up with.” “Ah,” You glanced around Marcus, spotting the woman coming toward you. She was just a bit shorter than you, with bright red hair curled expertly around a diamond shaped face. Her eyes were slate grey— and focused in on the two of you.  “She’s hot,” You muttered. “Not that it’s a contest, but you’re hotter.” “Really taking this lie for a ride, huh?” Marcus’ brow furrowed, frowning down at you. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, you heard, “Marcus! I thought you might be around here somewhere.” And her voice was so shrill. You gave Marcus a teasing look before he turned to face her. “Couldn’t miss my sister’s wedding,” He gave an awkward little laugh, the likes of which you’d never heard. It looked like the woman wanted to step in for a hug, but her eyes darted to you before she could get too close. You gave her a bright smile as awkward silence persisted between the two of them. “Oh-- Sorry,” Marcus laughed as he introduced you, “Sweetheart, this is Kimberly. She used to live right down the block, and we went to Quantico together.” “Aw, neat, so you’re in law enforcement too, huh?” You smiled, draping your arm around Marcus’ middle once you’d let go of Kimberly’s hand. Her eyes darted to your arm, then up to Marcus’ face. You glanced between the two of them before straightening up. “You know what? Why don’t I let the two of you catch up,” You looked up at Marcus, “I will go see if your mom needs any help-- You need a drink or anything?” “N-No,” Marcus shook his head a little bit, but you could see the slight panic in his eyes. “Okay!” You could see the smile on Kimberly’s smile - a presumption that she’d managed to scare you off. So you turned, cupping Marcus’ neck and drawing him down for a kiss. You could feel him smiling against your lips, and you ran your thumb along his jaw as you sucked his lower lip between yours. You grinned at the sound of a soft, awed moan that left him, feeling his hand curl in the fabric of your dress before you leaned away. Marcus looked a little dazed, his grasp on you showing no sign of loosening, even as you reached up to lightly smear away some of your lipstick that had transferred onto his lips.   “Not quite your shade, babe,” You teased, winking at him. You lowered your hand, patting his chest lightly and turning back to an infuriated Kimberly and offering her a bright smile. “You two have fun!” -- Jill didn’t need any help, so you grabbed a beer for yourself and stepped over to a quiet corner of the porch and taken your phone out. You set the beer on the wide porch rail as you opened an email to answer. “That has to be the shortest conversation I’ve ever had with her,” You heard behind you. You smiled, finishing the email you were typing before glancing back at Marcus. “So? How’d it go?” You asked, turning to face Marcus and leaning back against the porch railing. “Well,” Marcus said thoughtfully, placing his hand on either side of you as he crowded up against you, “We made about two minutes of incredibly awkward small talk, she asked if I’d known you long and then left to get some potato salad.” “Damn,” You sighed, shaking your head a little bit, “I am...Good.” “You might actually be the best,” Marcus conceded. You smiled as he smoothed a hand over your side. “And that was… Some kiss,” He added softly. You smiled, licking your lips.  “Yeah, you seemed to like it. I mean, it was vindicating, what with my being so out of practice.” “If that’s you out of practice, I can’t imagine how proficient you are when you’re in top form.” You smiled a bit, drawing your lower lip between your teeth. Your stomach fluttered as Marcus’ eyes lowered to your mouth. He raised his hand, cupping your cheek and using his thumb to pull your lip from between your teeth. Your stomach fluttered as you felt Marcus' leg slide between yours, your chests brushing together. You’d noticed that, unlike other aspects of the lie, Marcus’ smiles and touches and kisses felt different. When Marcus leaned in for a kiss, there was no squeezing of your hand, no half-second of hesitation, no panic. When Marcus kissed you, it always felt so damnably real. He slipped his lips across yours before sucking your lower lip between his, as you had to him before. You sighed softly, raising your arm and looping it around Marcus’ neck and sliding your hand over the nape. You smiled as Marcus pressed you against the porch railing, arm curling around your upper back. You kept your eyes closed as the kiss broke. Marcus didn’t stray, just brushed another kiss against your lips, then another before he rested his forehead against yours. “Any better?” You teased softly. “Better and better,” He murmured, “Every time.” You lowered your head, lightly butting your head against Marcus’ jaw as sheepishness twisted your lips into a smile. Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long ; @spideysimpossiblegirl ; @blueeyesatnight ; @elen-aranel ; @yespolkadotkitty ; @artsymaddie​ ; @phoenixhalliwell​ ; @lunaserenade​ ; @winniedaboo​  ; @empress-palpat1ne​ ; @randomness501​ ; @nutmeg-20​ ; @leonieb​ ; @the-feckless-wonder​ ; @lou-la-lou​ ; @captain-jebi​ ; @supernaturalgirl​ ; @naturenebula21​ ; @evelynseventyr​ ; @giselatropicana​ ; @heatherbel​ ; @marydjarin​ ; @annathewitch​ ; @absurdthirst​ ; @hnt-escape ; @writingletterstothefire​ ; @misswriter​ ; @bison-writes​ ; @xx-small-town-witch-xx​ ; @ajeff855​ ; @hellovanessax

[bbyheedeungie]

You have me now | Cat hybrid!Jungwon AU

Pairings: Jungwon x Reader ft. Bang Yedam

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: depression, slight nudity

Word count: 1.7k

Synopsis: Going through some tough times in your life, you come across someone who is struggling as well. And now you never thought you'd find solace in your cat, Jungwon.

Author's note: this is my longest fic yet! I got very emotional with this one. Btw, thank you for all your support! 😭❤may all of you have someone to depend on in your darkest times.

Dark gray clouds cloaked the skies, with vicious thunders warning everyone that heavy rain threatened to pour mercilessly. It was 5pm, your last class had ended long ago but your teacher had to make you stay to discuss important matters with you; your failing grades in his class. And to make matters worse, your boyfriend had just broken up with you through a text.

As you make your way through the gates of the school, you groaned as the cold rain engulfed you within seconds.

"Guess this day can't get any better huh."

You make a sprint for it, not caring about getting your socks muddy anymore as your arms make a futile attempt to shield yourself from the rain.

Amidst the harsh cry of downpour, you were stopped at your tracks by the sound of weeping meows, not too far away. And there it was, under a tree was a small kitty crying in sorrow as the cardboard box which was probably supposed to be its home melted away in the rain.

You've never been one to keep pets, but you've always had a soft heart when it came to animals that is why without hesitation, you scooped up the poor kitty in your arms and ran home.

You were dripping wet, shivering as the warmth of your apartment slowly welcomed you and your companion. You settled the kitty on a rug as you took a warm shower and changed into an oversized shirt and sweatpants. When you finished drying yourself, you notice that the kitty barely moved an inch from how you left it, still shivering.

"Hey kitty, you'll be okay now." you cooed and stroked its wet head and ears. It looked at you cautiously yet gratifyingly and you were shocked at how much emotion its eyes held. Almost like a human.

"That's kinda odd. But you have very beautiful eyes though." you smiled.

Never having owned a pet, you were honestly unsure on how to take care of it. And so, together with your wet books, you blow dried the kitty with your hair drier. You giggled as the kitty flinched lightly and its fur stood up, probably new to the sound and sensation of your hair drier. Your laugh fades as your eyes train upon the scars all over the poor kitty's body. You could have easily missed it because of its dark fur but as it dried more, it became more visible. You knew battle scars when you see them. As your fingertips lightly grazed your scarred wrists, your heart can't help but ache for the small cat.

"I won't let anyone or anything hurt you again. I'll take care of you from now on, okay? You can depend on me." you assured and it meowed in response, tilting it's head sideways as it blinked at you a few times.

At dinner time, you rummaged all of your cabinets for anything you can feed to the small cat. The rain hadn't ceased yet, withholding you from going outside to buy proper cat food. For the time being, you decided that a can of tuna will suffice.

You placed the bowl of food in front of the kitty, taking a few seconds before it cautiously moves closer to it to sniff it.

"Well go on, don't be picky." You raised your eyebrows, placing your hands on your hips. The kitty meowed and did that thing again, tilting its head and blinking at you before dipping it's head into the food. It only took a few minutes for it to finish eating and you felt like a proud momma. Poor little thing must have been very hungry.

That night you decided to let the kitty sleep above your blanket, settling into its place at the foot of your bed. Suddenly, the sound of raindrops have never felt so calming as you slept soundly that night for the first time in weeks.

The morning welcomed you with bright sunshine beaming through your windows. You hummed in content as you snuggle closer to the warm body that cradled yours.

Your eyes shot wide open at the sudden realization and shoved the person away from you. You stumble out of your own bed and stare at the gorgeous boy that blinked at you confusedly.

"Come back to bed, I want to sleep some more." He whined sleepily, tilting his head as he blinked at you. Why did it seem familiar to you?

You combed through your hair profusely, trying to stay calm as you rake your thoughts on what had happened last night. Did you got drunk and brought a boy over? Your blanket covered his body up to his neck but you were sure he wasn't wearing anything underneath, remembering how warm his skin felt on yours. You slap yourself internally and took a deep breath.

"Umm hey, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave. Last night was a mistake." you said awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers. He blinked at you, seemingly hurt.

"I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?" He said sadly and sat up and attempted to reach out to you, your blanket sliding down to his hips. His entire torso was now in full display and you quickly stopped him.

"No, stay! Don't come near." You shrieked as you look away with your hands covering your eyes.

"Do you regret taking me in last night?" He asked bitterly, looking down to his hands.

"What, what do you mean?" You remove your hands from your eyes and glance at him, your eyes quickly falling to his scarred torso.

Just like—

"Oh! Did my human form freak you out? I'm so sorry, I'll change back."

My cat. Under the covers, was the kitty you took in.

To say that your morning was eventful was an understatement. You told him to change back to his human form and had him wear one of your oversized shirts in which he happily sniffed before putting on, and a pair of shorts that your brother had left when he last visited you. And now both of you are seated at the kitchen table, eating kimchi fried rice and eggrolls for breakfast. It has been 5 minutes of awkward silence when he decided to clear his throat.

"I guess I should introduce myself." He said shyly, his eyes glued to his plate.

"Please do." you nod, trying to stay composed.

"I'm Jungwon, and I'm a hybrid."

You take in a shaky breath. A freaking hybrid.

"I grew up in the animal shelter, where I was separated from my parents since birth. I don't know if they're hybrids as well." his fists clenched under the table and he took a deep breath, his eyes closed tightly. You quickly notice his discomfort.

"Hey, it's okay—"

"At the animal shelter, they didn't treat me well. The workers often lashed out me and hurt me when I couldn't obey them. And I didn't know why but I had this instinct of not to show them my human form. Honestly, this has been my longest time as a human." Jungwon said ruefully, ashamed to look at you in the eyes.

"When I was old enough, I escaped and ran away. I swore to myself that I am never going back to that place. And then I ended up under that tree, drenched and starving and you appeared and you—" he choked, his tears trickled down his face and you quickly sat up fron your seat, rushed to his side and engulfed him in a hug.

"Hey, you don't have to be alone anymore. You have me now, okay?" You said as you stroked his hair comfortingly.

Once he'd calmed down, you introduced yourself as well.

"I'm Y/N. I guess I haven't told you my name last night." you chuckled. He shook his head.

"No, but I kinda peeked at your school ID while you showered. Sorry about that." He said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"No need to be sorry for." you giggled.

Your conversation was abruptly cut off by the sound of your doorbell.

"Huh, who could that be?" you muttered to yourself, leaving Jungwon at the kitchen.

You opened the door, revealing your ex-boyfriend, Yedam.

"Hey, I was worried when you didn't text me back." You scoffed at him.

"Why would you even worry about me? Didn't you dump me?" you couldn't help it but you were angry at him. How he treated you so lowly that he thought you didn't even deserve a proper break up, that just a text message will be enough.

"Hey, you can't blame me. Y/N, your grades were failing, you were diagnosed with depression. You were falling apart—"

"And you decided I'm too much for you to handle. Yedam, leave." Your voice broke, your tears threatening to fall.

"Y/N wait—"

"Y/N asked you to leave." a voice spoke behind you, his hand reaching out to rub your back comfortingly. I'm here Y/N, I'm right here for you.

He didn't like the way the man you were talking to was making you feel. He could sense how upset you are and it pisses him off.

"Who are you? Back off man, this is none of your business." Yedam tried to brush him off.

"Any business of Y/N is my business too. Y/N, is this guy troubling you?" He asked you, his beautiful cat-like eyes look at you with tenderness and then shoots menacing glares at Yedam.

"No, not all." You smiled at Jungwon, and Yedam saw it. How your eyes sparkled as you look at the boy. You were happy. And when your eyes flew back to him, it was empty.

"Yedam, we're over. This conversation is over too. I hope you live a good life and thank you for being part of mine. That is all." You stated, feeling proud of yourself for handling things so well. For being strong.

"Bye then." Yedam said, turning his back to the both of you not before shooting Jungwon a look and muttering "Punk."

Once you close the door, you let your tears stream freely. Jungwon worriedly wipes away those tears.

"That human makes me want to claw his eyes out. I hate him for making you hurt like this." he scowled. You only smiled at him.

"Y/N, you don't have to be alone anymore. You have me now, okay?" he said, repeating your own words.

[bratkook]

eleven months. (m) myg. two.

masterlist.

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: fluff, slow burn!!!, eventual smut, warnings: brief non-descriptive mention of death, otherwise none word count: 7k author’s note: here’s some more backstory on both of them as well as more interaction beyond yoongi hunting down an album by the cure lmao. like i said before, i’m really soft for yoongi in this story so lmk what you think! (also..because i hate myself and love piling up wips, theres mention of oc having a previous love interest that’s actually part of another story that takes place in this universe that’s a prequel soooo...coming soon lol) taglist (open): @min-yus​ summary: it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what’s coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.

In the next coming weeks it becomes obvious that Yoongi is in fact a regular. His routine visits allow you to remember the usual days and times he’d pop in, so you knew if you’d be working on his chosen days. 

Somewhere in between his casual drop ins, the two of you had formed somewhat of a friendship— or the beginning stages of one at least. Yoongi liked your sense of humor, how open and friendly you were to anyone you encountered, always having something to say about anything. Conversation came easy to you, never running out of stories. It left Yoongi thinking you’ve definitely lived about ten lifetimes compared to him.

In turn, you liked how he let you steer the conversation any way you chose. Most people would probably watch on in horror at the way you’d go from talking about a specific song or band, and then switching to a story about how you chased a pickpocketer during your travels before moving on to talking about your roommate’s cat. None of it gave him whiplash though, seamlessly flowing into the next topic with a grin on his face, never feeling like he had to think too hard to keep it going. It worked best this way. Yoongi was observant by nature, a great listener above it all, so if you were the one doing most of the talking it was fine by him. 

Everyone at Rkive360 had taken notice that Yoongi’s usual five minute visits had turned into ten, and then twenty, until it became very clear he was lingering inside the store. No one told him anything, besides the fact that he was bestfriends with the owner and had immunity, all of you were fond of him. Taehyung enjoyed the sly remarks Yoongi would make, Sana just enjoyed ogling at him, Namjoon would never mind seeing him, and you would take any chance you could to attempt to wow him with your small knowledge of music. 

It was a nice distraction whenever he stopped by, always heading straight to the back where the vinyl was kept. Sometimes he had a specific album in mind, other times he was simply browsing, but he only ever bought one at a time. It was routine, maybe even a weird ritual of sorts if he really thought about it. 

On the days you knew he’d be coming you would spend a little extra time in the beginning of your shift picking out a few records to suggest to him if he didn’t have one in mind. Because of this, he had stopped his usual path to the bins and now came directly to you, the first stray off his usual routine. 

Today you’re standing behind the counter, ringing up a customer when he walks in, a smile on your face as you chat away. He patiently waits at the far corner, leaning back against it as his eyes roamed the interior of the store, taking note of the way Sana and Taehyung were trying and failing to build a giant display. It looks like a mess of parts, scattered around with no instruction manual in sight— definitely Taehyung’s idea to toss it judging by Sana’s look of frustration. 

He tears his gaze away from them beginning to argue when he hears you wish the customer a good day as they leave, pushing away from the counter and shuffling your way with a grin on his face. You smile back at the way his doughy cheeks push out, high points of them reflecting the light from above. 

“Any shirt facts of the day?”

That had also become another common occurrence. Whenever you decided to wear a band shirt, he somehow always had random facts about whoever it was. It didn’t matter if it was some obscure french band or a 90’s rapper, Yoongi knew something about everyone, like some walking encyclopedia of musical artists. So when you take a step away and spread your arms out, he sees your shirt of choice today is The Doors, and he scoffs. Too easy.

“The Doors were the first band to ever advertise a new album on a billboard.” He nods his head slowly, almost as if he’s telling you yes I know, amazing right?

A hum leaves your lips at his fun fact, slightly impressed by it. “Interesting. Like always, I did not know that.” You peek under the counter top at the selection of records you kept stowed away for him, safe from any undeserving customers. “Now, do you want to see my daily, hand picked selection just for you.”

This was his new favorite pastime, getting to see the random albums you’d group together for him, wanting to know what you thought was worthy for him to listen to. When he nods, rubbing his hands together in excitement, you haul up the stack and carefully spread them out across the top.

The genre of the day was R&B, he can tell that much as he sorts through the albums. You’re familiar with the way he clumps together certain records, marking them down as albums he already owns, until he gets to an orange colored cover. The words The Internet fill the top right corner along with Ego Death on the bottom left. This he had never heard before. He picks it up and flips it over, scanning the song names with interest.

His eyes raise up to yours with curiosity, the same sharp gaze that somehow still makes you nervous holds the obvious question being passed between you with no need for words: are they any good? And the way you nod your head immediately convinces him enough. “Alright, I’ll give them a shot.”

A small sense of pride fills your chest, a tiny victory whenever he decides to pick something from your stack, trusting whatever music knowledge you had somehow convinced him you have. “I promise you’ll love them.”

When you hand him his change and the brown paper bag, you immediately check the time and clock out, dipping back under the counter and grabbing your bag from its hidden spot.

“Are you off?” Yoongi finds himself asking, no longer used to leaving immediately after he purchased something. The usual fifteen minute conversation you two had was missing today, and he’s not too sure how he feels about that. 

“Yes I am, you were my last customer. The store will now be run by those two heathens. Here’s to hoping they don’t bite each others heads off while they finish building whatever the fuck that is.” Taehyung is now standing up, lazily holding up a part of the display as Sana tries to screw something together, angrily giving Taehyung commands but he only mimics her with a ridiculous face. And when she socks his thigh, her fist aiming a little too close to home, you let out a laugh.

Yoongi highly doubts that’s going to be possible, Namjoon would probably have to be the one left to finish building the display while also putting them on opposite sides of the store whenever he came in for the day. It was truly a shock that they had gone this long working together without an actual fist fight breaking out. If it came down to it, Yoongi had his money on Sana being able to whoop Tae’s ass. 

“Do you know any good take out spots nearby? I’m starving and I’m still new to the area so I’ll take any recommendations.” Your voice snaps him back, his eyes looking at you briefly as the question registers within him.

“Oh, yeah. There’s a place not too far from here that has pretty good jajangmyeon.”

“Hell yeah.” Your hands pat your belly softly, coming up to readjust your bag as you walk around the counter and head for the door, shouting out a goodbye to Taehyung and Sana as you leave the store. When you exit the shop, your hand holding the door open behind you, you glance back inside in confusion when you spot Yoongi still standing by the counter with wide eyes. “Well, aren’t you coming?”

Truth be told, he had been wanting to talk to you outside of work for a while but he was scared to ask, not wanting to make you feel obligated to say yes just because he was a regular at your place of employment. Something about you seemed familiar to him, and to be quite honest he just craved social intimacy. His job consumed him and coming into this record shop was the small escape he needed, you being there was just a newly added plus.

You’re on the same page he is, wanting to hang out with him just as much as he had, something about the way he seemed like a half open book interested you. Throughout all of your adventures you had forced yourself to come out of your shell, no longer afraid or bashful when it came to initiating friendships. If you wanted to get to know someone better, then you’d bite first. And you definitely wanted to get to know Yoongi better.

It takes him a moment to react, his gaze switching from you to look back over at your coworkers, seeing Sana sending you a curious glance. Yoongi was about to attempt to muster up the courage to ask you to hang out and you beat him to the punch, but after a second he grins at you with a nod. Of course he was coming.

The weather in Seoul is forgiving today, the usual cold of autumn being prevalent in the air without the need to bundle up, the slight wind not stinging your skin as it blows around you. This was probably your favorite season, comfortable enough for you to do whatever you want without feeling restricted by heavy layers or sticky from the heat. 

A soft smile is on your lips, hands shoved into the pockets of your baggy cardigan, and a small pep in your step as your eyes take in the world around you. That feeling you get when you visit a new town on vacation, how you’re just passing through for a brief moment in a place so many call home, it makes you realize how small you actually are. 

It’s a feeling you always longed for, to experience a new place and make it home, it's the main reason you always bounced around so much. Staring at all the shops around you, taking in all the people just going about their daily life, you’re content with your new choice of scenery. 

Too lost in your own head as you take in the shops and people around you, you snap out of it when Yoongi reaches out and clasps a hand on your shoulder, steering you to turn right when you keep walking straight. “Get your head out of the clouds.” 

He hears the snort you let out, allowing him to guide you the correct way. Slowly trailing away from the main road, the amount of people lessens, only a handful of stores line up around the alley you had turned into. When you spare a glance at Yoongi you can see the excitement on his face, speeding up his pace until he’s standing in front of the restaurant. It’s a small hole in the wall shop that didn’t even look like it served food from the outside, all black exterior with a red sign hung up on top showcasing their name, Ipum.

It’s charming, and the way Yoongi spreads his arm out puts a similar smile on your face. Only then does he pull open the door, allowing you to step in first before he follows. 

Once Yoongi steps inside he’s immediately greeted by the workers calling out his name in glee, bowing in response with a bashful smile as he approaches the small counter set up for take out orders, not needing to read the menu. You don’t realize he’s waiting for you as you take in the interior of the restaurant, the red dining tables surprisingly packed despite their lack of advertising outside. This place really must be as good as Yoongi promised.

“Anything specific you want?” he asks, finger pointing to the small menu in his hand in case you needed it. When you shake your head, letting him know he can order anything he wants, he does exactly that, placing two orders of jajangmyeon, along with fried dumplings and sweet and sour pork to complete it. It was his go to choices whenever he came, so he hopes you’ll enjoy it as much as he does. 

As you step to the side, backs pressed against the wall closest to the counter in order to keep the space open for the workers and patrons to walk comfortably in the small shop, you turn your head to glance at Yoongi again. “You come here often?”

The way the workers had spoken to him had made that glaringly obvious, but you wanted to hear it from him, wanted to know if he came here for comfort food or some other weird tradition like his ‘one-vinyl-a-day’ way of life. 

It was sort of a habit he had fallen into years ago. Having grown up in this city his whole life, he had stumbled upon this place his last year of high school. It had become a staple soon after, a place he would come to directly after classes were done to come stuff his face before heading home. Then it became a place his girlfriend and him frequented when the apartment they moved into turned out to be a mere block away. 

In a way, the owners of this shop had become like a second family. The amount of times they’ve seen Yoongi at his best and worst throughout the years, never once throwing judgment his way even if he came in beyond plastered back in the years he used to drink, never turning him away even if he cried into his noodles. 

He decides that’s a little too much to unpack right now, so he just nods in confirmation. “Yeah, I’ve been coming here for years. One taste of their noodles and you’ll be hooked too, trust me.”

Oh you trusted him, the amount of plates you’ve seen so far just made your mouth water once they passed by you and the smell of the food reached your nose. “We should’ve just sat down, I’m not gonna be able to wait until I get home to eat this.”

As you say this one of the workers approaches you two with a tied up plastic bag in his hand, the inside stuffed with takeout boxes and utensils for you to take. Yoongi grasps the bag with a smile and thanks him as he walks away. “Don’t worry, I live like a block away.”

He realizes how his words could be taken immediately, how he had assumed you two would innocently go back to his place to share a meal. You had invited him to eat but the location of where you would be doing so had not been discussed and the last thing he wanted was to come across as a sleaze.

His mouth was ready to back track completely, until he sees the way you dramatically place your hand over your chest, and he knows it's too late, “Oh damn, your place? Saucy, but I’m starving so I’ll do almost anything.”

You can see the way he relaxes when he notices you aren’t being serious, taking his words lightly the way he intended them. His eyes roll behind his lids, a lazy smile gracing his lips as he shoves your shoulder lightly to get you to start walking. 

“Is jajangmyeon all it takes?”

“Slow your roll, good jajangmyeon is all it takes. I’ve yet to have a taste.”

Yoongi smiles at your words, taking the lead when you step out of the shop and turn back down towards the main street. His apartment was on the next block over, a short walk that you didn’t mind, especially since he took it upon himself to point at random stores you passed to let you know the best places to get what.

He has a lot of love for this city, the memories it possesses spread out through his entire childhood and early adult years, lingering in each crack on the sidewalk. He often sits and wonders how different his life would be if his parents had decided to move to Busan instead of Seoul, or stayed in Daegu altogether. The thought of the timeline of his life being altered so drastically to the point of possibly not being able to be living this moment sends his mind into a flurry, so he's grateful you’ve reached his front door now as his mind settles.

“Oh my god who’s this?” You coo as you step into his apartment, crouching down towards the white stone floors to pet the fluffy gray cat that greeted you, enjoying the way it purred and rubbed against your knee.

“That's Yuri, the queen of the house.” He steps away from you, setting the plastic bag on top of the kitchen counter a few feet away, his hands pulling out the containers and setting them down. “Don’t give her too much attention or she’ll never let you leave.”

Yuri glances up at you, her bright green eyes peering up innocently at Yoongi’s words, almost as if she was pleading for you to keep petting her. It doesn’t take much convincing for you to scoop your hands under her and press her against your chest as you stand up, your fingers gently scratching the top of her head. Yoongi lets out a sigh when he sees his cat has succeeded in wrapping you around her finger.

“Sorry, she’s too cute to not cuddle with.”

She nuzzles into your chest, purring in appreciation when your fingers trail down onto her spine. Yoongi watches you as he pops open the lid of the container that holds the noodles. Yuri is his baby, yet every time a new person comes into his place she acts like he doesn’t exist— well not until he pops open the container holding the sweet and sour pork. That's when her head pops up, her green eyes sharpening when she spots the food, and Yoongi glares back at the fluffy traitor.

When Yuri's fluffy body shakes slightly as you laugh Yoongi glances back at you, breaking up the staring contest he had going with his cat. “She’s gonna betray your love right now for some pork.” 

You don’t doubt him, not with the way her paws start to push at your arms, attempting to stand up in your embrace until she’s hopping off from your arms and slowly walking towards Yoongi. She’s absolutely shameless as she rubs her body against his legs, and Yoongi can only look down at her before staring back up at you, gesturing out with his hands. “You see?”

The act of betrayal doesn’t sting, not when she’s as cute as she is. Instead you just chuckle, walking towards the stools Yoongi has by the oversized kitchen island, a breakfast bar set up at the end, the food spread out on top of it. He ignores Yuri for the time being, pulling out the stool beside yours and sliding into it. The both of you pull your chopsticks apart and get to eating instantly, swirling the noodles until they’re evenly coated in the sauce.

You try to ignore the way Yoongi blatantly stares at you as you bring up the first clump of noodles, waiting to see what your initial reaction would be to the food he held so near and dear to his heart. Yoongi knows this could go south so quickly, there is nothing worse than trying something new when you’re starving and having it absolutely suck. Sensing his nerves, you slurp the noodles up, and when the salty taste hits your tongue you hum, chewing them thoughtfully to make a show for Yoongi.

“Verdict?”

He waits patiently for you to swallow, sharp eyes analyzing your expression, seeing you lick your lips and grin at him. “You weren’t lying, definitely some of the best jajangmyeon I’ve had.”

In pure dramatics, he practically sags in his seat and raises a fist into the air in success, being able to properly enjoy his food now that he knew you approved of it. The two of you begin to eat in relative silence, the sound of munching and slurping filling up his kitchen space. 

As the minutes go by, the back and forth of your chopsticks plucking out a dumpling after he did, lands with you snatching the last one. An evil cackle leaving you as you pop it into your mouth and grin at him, cheeks puffed out slightly and he can’t find it in himself to be irked at you snatching the last dumpling when you looked like that.

The compromise of that is you leaving the remaining pieces of pork for him to enjoy, and when Yuri gracefully hops onto the counter you see why he had suggested that. He grasps a tiny piece of pork on his chopsticks and feeds her like a parent would a toddler, airplane noise and all until Yuri opens wide and gently clamps down on the meat.

“She’s spoiled because of you.”

He merely shrugs, a giant smile spreading across his face as he watches her with adoration as she chews the food. “I refuse to confirm or deny that.”

As you finish up the last of your food you just watch on as Yoongi alternates between feeding himself and Yuri until no more pork remains. Seeing the soft way he acts with his cat just warms you up, Yoongi had always seemed like a blunt person from the times you’ve seen him at the store, his sense of humor is one that could easily be taken as harsh or cold if you didn’t match it, but you’d never expect to see him this way. The tops of his cheeks push out as he smiles at his cat, cupping her face between his hands and rocking it back and forth before planting a kiss on her forehead.

She seems to understand that that's her cue to hop off the counter, knowing that snack time is now over as Yoongi starts to clean up the empty containers. When you reach to clean your own mess up he’s quick to slap your hands away, smirking when you retract them with a small wince, your fingers rubbing the back of your palm that he had swatted with a pair of chopsticks.

“Shoo.” He waves his arm in the direction of his couch, not giving you another glance and missing the way you pout at how he had dismissed you like he would his cat.

With a huff you turn on your heel, properly taking in his living room. From the small tidbits of half truthful information that Taehyung had provided you with, you knew Yoongi was somebody in the music industry. You had always assumed that when people said that it meant struggling soundcloud rapper or something of the sort, but from the look of his apartment alone it was very evident that Yoongi was not a struggling soundcloud rapper. 

The wall of his living room was lined with floor to ceiling windows, letting you catch a glimpse of the cityscape down below, the darkening horizon and slowly flickering street lights blending together. A dark grey couch was on the wall adjacent to that, directly facing the entertainment center he had set up, complete with a massive mounted television and soundbar, a collection of DVDs organized in the storage unit below it.

You walk closer to it, catching sight of the picture frames he had displayed along the top of it. They were all simple black frames, all differing in size, all of them having photos of Yoongi and his friends on them. The one in particular that had you smiling was a photo booth picture with Yoongi and Namjoon, they were accompanied by three other people, a boy with slightly red tinged hair and a bright smile, another boy with dark brown hair and a slight pout on his face from Namjoon squishing his cheeks, and a girl with light brown hair smiling widely as Yoongi gave her bunny ears.

Namjoon was a very smiley person, never needing a reason to be, but seeing Yoongi sporting a massive gummy smile had you realizing how nicely a smile suited him. It was clear that he held this group of people near to his heart considering they all occupied the remaining photos as well.

A couple of steps right beside that was where he had his prized possession, his record player that he had fully customized to get him the desired sound he was looking for. It was a sleek black, accents of silver shining off of it, resting pretty on a dark stained wooden stand. A few of his records were stored beneath it, but what really caught your eye was the eight by eight makeshift gallery wall that showcased his current favorite LP’s, each individually shelved to show the album art in all its glory.

“Should I give this a listen with you here?”

His question has you turning your head towards him, cutting your admiration of the album covers short. He stood a few feet away, his hands holding up the orange cover of the album he had bought today with your suggestion, and a small sense of nerves bubbles up in your stomach for some reason. You had always suggested music, confident in your choices when you were in the safety of the record store, but having to witness his first impression made you a little uneasy. What if he hated the band entirely, or worse, what if he pretended he didn’t hate them just to soothe your ego.

Is this what he felt like watching you take your first bite of food earlier?

“Sure,” you choke out, taking a giant step back from his record player, hearing him chuckle at your odd behavior.

As he lifts the cover up and slides the giant record out of its sleeve you decide to go sit on the couch, sinking into the plush material and welcoming Yuri into your lap when she jumps on as well.

With a few clicks, the low whirring is heard of the turntable beginning to spin. And when he eases the needle onto the record a small crackle sounds before Get Away starts to play. He fiddles with the volume slightly until satisfied, only then does he turn back around and join you on the couch.

His face is settled in thought, bobbing his head gently to the beat as he rests back against the couch, sinking into it with a groan until he’s fully comfortable, legs spread out with one arm resting casually on his lap and the other on the arm rest, fingers tapping along.

You watch on in silence, your fingers raking through Yuri’s fur until her purring calms your nerves and you’re sagging back. Before you know it your eyes shut as you listen along to the music, your belly is full and your limbs are sore from the unpacking and rearranging that had to be done at work so being able to sit here and shut your brain off while mellow music filled the room was what you needed.

Before long the A side is finished playing, Yoongi having to get up to flip it over until the B side plays all the way through, the ending voicemail of Palace/Curse playing until it fizzles out entirely, the room falling into silence once more.

Yuri had gotten comfortable herself, sprawled out across your lap with her head by your hip, but when Yoongi gets up with a stretch her head pops up, eyes narrowing at her owner until she senses no threat and lays back down.

“Verdict?” You repeat his earlier question, seeing him hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, his lips pursed in thought.

“Honest opinion?”

“Brutally honest.”

He hums with a sly grin as he turns his head to face you. “They’re good. Kinda makes me feel nostalgic too for some reason. But as a whole, it's great music that calms you down.”

With the way you’re laying practically boneless on his couch you can attest to that, they were definitely a band you listened to to unwind. He catches the wide smile spreading across your face as he stands back up to properly store the record, your smile only getting bigger when you see him replace one of the displayed albums on the wall with the new one. 

“It's going on the wall of favorites,” he announces, sliding the previous record back into the storage underneath.

“I’m honored.”

He steps back from the wall with his hands on his hips, admiring how the orange of the album pops out against the others. Yoongi very rarely switched these albums out, but he had a feeling this wall would eventually become full of the random albums you’d recommend to him.

“Quick question,” he starts as he turns back to face you, taking in the sight of you and his cat cuddling together. “It’s been sitting at the back of my mind, and Taehyung has given me like three different answers.”

A small laugh leaves you as you raise your eyebrow at him in question. “Sure, what is it?”

“Where did you move from?”

You stretch your legs out in front of you, your toes just barely reaching the coffee table he has set up a bit away from the couch, Yuri mimicking your actions and stretching out as well. You were definitely gonna grow as attached to her as you were to your roommate’s cat.

“Like where was I last before this, or where am I actually from?”

He walks towards his fridge, still being able to see and hear you due to the open layout of his place. “Both I guess.” The door pops open and he reaches for a bottle of water.“You thirsty?”

“You have some wine, or some beer?”

Yoongi grunts at that, shaking his head slightly, “Sorry, I don’t drink anymore but I’ve got water and juice.”

You’re sitting up straighter now, voicing out that the water was fine. “Where I’m from is classified information, you’ll have to level up on our friendship for me to tell you that.” You accept the water he hands you, smiling at him as he sits back on the couch. He was fine with your secrecy, taking whatever you feel comfortable telling him. “But I was in Madrid before I came here.”

“Oh? Did you leave where you’re from to go live there?”

Your fingers capture Yuri’s paw, squishing her toe beans as she gently swats at your hair. “No, I was in Amsterdam before that, and Berlin before that as well to name a few. I’ve been bouncing around since I was 20, so about 6 years now.”

He has a look of interest on his face as he sips the water, leaning onto the couch sideways to face you. “Do you ever want to go back to those places?”

“Like visiting the place more than once?”

He nods, his eyes focusing on Yuri’s fluffy body, seeing her sitting back up to hop onto the ledge of the couch, rubbing her body against the back of your head before settling on the backrest of it and getting comfy.

“Hm, not sure. I can’t see myself wanting to flip back the pages of my life to reread a story I already know the outcome to.” With a sigh you shrug at him, your fingers now tracing the material of the couch. “Maybe in the future, years from now, I’ll crave a specific memory and want to go back, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

The amount of new cities and countries you’ve been lucky enough to call home for any amount of time held a special place inside of you, the memories and stories you had because of those experiences helped shape you into the person you are. Sure not all of them were movie-like experiences, some close calls happening at a few places that made you question whether you made the right choice living your life the way you did. But then you’d have moments that just felt right, and right now, sitting on this couch with Yoongi, this was one of those moments.

“So you don’t plan on staying here forever?”

“Well what do you mean by forever?”

He smiles, not thinking he would have to explain what forever meant to him. “For the rest of your life. Is there another version of forever Y/N?”

“Shut up,” you laugh. “It’s not likely, but who's to say. I never move somewhere with a time frame of how long I plan on staying.”

“How do you decide? Sorry if I’m prying but I just can’t imagine that moving somewhere new would be easy. Picturing having to leave friends behind would probably wound me.” 

That was true, that was definitely the hardest part of doing this— emotionally at least. The people you met and befriended were a factor in deciding how long you’d stay somewhere. After the initial week of exploring a new place, it gets lonely. You’ve been to places where even the roommates you’d stay with weren’t friendly, and you’d have to take it a step further and search for friendships elsewhere. It was the main reason you had learned to not be timid when it came to making the first move.

“It’s kind of a gut feeling. The longest place I’ve lived in was Paris for two years.” A smile spreads across your face as you recall the two years you spent in that city, how you probably would’ve left after a few weeks if you hadn’t ran into that cute boy right before the club you were in shut down for the night. That experience alone was one of the main reasons you made it a conscious decision to not fall in love, not wanting to experience the inevitable heartbreak that came with it. 

Paris was the first place you moved to, jumping head first into adventure and taking everything that came with it, including romance. Leaving friends behind had been hard, but leaving Park Jimin behind had been a different version of painful.

“Before this I was in Madrid for a month. I found myself getting comfortable too fast and when I get comfortable I get bored. When it's no longer new and exciting I don’t see the point of staying anymore.”

Yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, the carefree aura radiating off of you, but he weirdly craves it. He craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what's coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. His entire life had changed in the last few years and was now built off routine, bullet point to-do lists and deadlines he had to meet. The only adventure he experiences anymore is thanks to his friends, luring him out of his apartment to fulfil any of their spur of the moment ideas, but nothing comes close to this. 

He’s not able to understand how you can be suspended in freefall for the majority of your life, and instead of panicking about your lack of parachute, you’re admiring the view.

“Do you plan on staying here forever?”

That question makes him freeze a little, he had been prying into your life no problem but now that a question was directed at him, he felt himself growing uneasy. “I guess I did.”

“Did...why past tense?”

You see the way he hesitates, his mind is already playing through all the scenarios that can come because of this but he decides to just bite the bullet. “Love makes you think of forever. I pictured forever with my fiance.”

At the mention of a fiance your mind thinks of the girl in the photos with Yoongi, the girl with the bright smile and wide eyes.

Was Yoongi a married man?

He can spot the way you process his vague information, knowing he should elaborate before you think anything else, before your eyes move to his ring finger only to find it bare. “When you’re with someone for almost 8 years its normal to think of forever you know.”

The flashes of his relationship play in his mind, meeting his fiance in his last year of high school. How they had pulled each other out of their shells, becoming rather chaotic in their adventures over the years, turning into adults and supporting each other in every aspect of life.

The memory of Yoongi proposing to her still feels fresh in his mind, taking her to Jeju island since it was a place she had always wanted to visit, not being able to due to caring for her family.

“We were actually planning our wedding, having invitations sent out with everything nearly ready but she uh–“ he stops to breathe slightly, his eyes moving to stare at the picture frames, proving your assumption of the girl being his fiance right. “She got into an accident.”

He hadn’t specified if she died or not, but that faraway look in his eyes spelled it out for you. Forever didn’t have any sympathy for his situation, but he just shrugs it off, forcing himself to not speak further on it. There was more that tied in to the tragic passing of his fiance but he felt he had overshared enough already, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by unloading this information on you. The last thing he needed was to turn this nice day into a pity party with him being the center of attention. 

He’s just waiting for the routine apologetic words that would fall from your mouth—maybe you’d reach over and rub his arm like some people did, tell him how sad it was as if he didn’t already know. Some half assed attempt to make him feel better even though you were clearly blind sided by the topic. 

Yoongi didn’t want that, always hating the way people would stare at him like he was some charity case. This was why he rarely chose to stray from his circle of comfort, from the people that knew the baggage that came with him and accepted him, keeping his group as tight knit as possible in order to not pick at scabbed over wounds. 

When you sigh, he braces for it, mentally accepting that this might be what ends your new formed friendship before you could really creep through the cracks in the wall he built. But instead you reach forward and grasp Yuri once more, scooping her up and bringing her to your chest like a baby. “So Yuri wasn’t the only queen of the house, is that it?”

Yuri purrs in confirmation and Yoongi turns to stare at you again, blinking the wetness away from his eyes before he could even call them tears. You had a smile on your face as you stared at him, not that typical sympathetic smile people always sent his way, it was a genuine one, letting him know he was free to talk more on the subject if he needed to.

And for the first time Yoongi acknowledges that maybe he did need to. He was so used to bottling his emotions in, shutting himself off after her passing, pushing all of his friends and family away and locking himself at home as he mourned, submerging himself in his work to numb himself from feeling anything. Even now, his friends never pried, let him handle his feelings any way he wanted to. But Yoongi can’t act like his chest aches from keeping it all in, the pressure slowly releasing even with the minimal information he had given you. 

“Yeah,” he sighs out in relief, reaching out to pet Yuri. “Hani was the queen before Yuri got promoted.”

As you coo at his cat he feels himself sagging back onto the couch. The small dam of emotions he had inside finally released, and before you know it he’s spilling everything out, telling you tidbit stories of him and Hani, and somehow easing you into sharing similar stories of you and Jimin. 

The sun fully sets through the windows, neither of you noticing as you talk well into the night, and Yoongi found himself laughing and smiling at the mention of Hani for the first time in two years. You urge him on, watching on with interest while he talks about the day they had picked up Yuri from the shelter. 

His eyes are crinkled up in that endearing way you had seen more of today than in the past weeks of knowing him, and it fills you with warmth to know he’s allowing you to know about this part of his life. It felt like sacred information, uncharted territory from the way he had hesitated in the beginning, almost like he wasn’t sure if he could trust you with the precious memories he held tightly. All he needed was a gentle nudge and a genuine smile to slowly let you flip the pages of his brain, knowing you wouldn’t judge the bleeding ink and scratched out words that came with each story. 

As he stares at the way you smile at him, he comes to the realization that your sneaky ass must have already managed to slip past the cracks of the walls he built, infiltrating the tight knit circle he had for himself. He has to hold in a laugh when he recalls the way Taehyung had seriously suggested that you might be a spy sent here from another country. Maybe he was onto something, because he was refusing to accept that his willingness to overshare and stray from his norm was due to anything but your highly trained interrogation skills. 

You clearly had his cat fooled as well. When Yuri leans up and nuzzles her face against yours he sighs, knowing she had claimed you as her favorite solely based on the attention you gave her. You were good. Yoongi guesses he would have to keep you around now, just for the sake of his cat, nothing more. 

[ickymichi]

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒:

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

<3 warning: none really! just slight mentions of nsfw but nothing brutal, swearing, v slight angst, mentions of insecurity.

<3 things to know!: set in the timeskip, unless i’m like ‘this was back in high school’. (implied female) reader and issei are in an established relationship.

<3 summary!: headcannons i have about issei and his appearance/body. :)

<3 a/n: see i genuinely had no idea what to call this. like it’s headcannons that i have about issei’s appearance/body?. and also to make some of the things named more normalised and to make ppl see how attractive they make ppl. reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

all contents belongs to hotboyissei 2021. please do not repost or modify on this or any other platform.

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒: listen to this okay. issei with freckles on his shoulders. beautiful i know. but just imagine it. those nice broad shoulders with thousands of freckles scattered across them from years of tanning and getting sunburned on the beach while on holidays or just from the numerous summers he spent in your backyard getting a tan. just running your hands across them seeing how some of them connected to form a bigger one. he always tells you it tickles. but never says stop. also in summer he gets them on his face from the sun.

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒: he definitely had them on like the part of his back where his arm meets his shoulders, on the under side of his biceps and definitely got some on his ass cause boy got cake. but he’s insecure about them and used to hate wearing tank tops cause you could see them. but you told him how much you love them and how cool they look. now mf thinks he’s hot shit (as he should) and walks around your house in them or just shirtless. if you have some to he would literally always be telling you how attractive it is. literally constantly.

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑: he definitely is on the hairier side. like he got hairy ass legs let me tell you, but it thins out when it gets to his thighs a bit. definitely waxes or shaves his ass idc idc, was scared from this one time he was watching porn and it just got a shot of the guys hairy ass and he was disgusted. but also he got like, not a lot to where he has to constantly wax it, but a nice amount of chest hair, like it’s only on his pecs not on his stomach you know?. side story!: it was like, two months after you started dating and you were having a movie night at his and you were staying over. makki convinced, i mean convinced him you were going to have sex for the first time. so issei being afraid you’d think his chest hair is unattractive he booked a chest wax and made makki come with him. he recorded the whole thing and showed you two years later, big bad matsukawa issei himself, screaming from pain and nearly breaking makki’s hand with the grip he had on it. end of side story :). his happy trail? pheww that shit idky it’s just attractive to me for some reason. also has a bit of stubble but he shaves it cause of one time in third year he was just really lazy that week and didn’t shave and when the four of them went to go to the cinema on saturday oikawa said: “who’s uncles coming our way?”. from then on he never goes out with to them without shaving beforehand. if you tell him you find it attractive he’d grow it out a small bit just to see your reaction. but if you said you don’t like it he’d do it anyway to annoy you.

𝐀𝐂𝐍𝐄: high school issei definitely had acne. not like major but had some on his cheeks and his back. he hated it sm cause all his friends never had a problem with it. until you told him it doesn’t matter if he has it for not he’s still seggsy as fuck. now timeskip issei? not as much. he made sure to start taking care of his skin halfway through high school. that is until masks became a thing, poor guy has a love hate relationship with them now.

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆: listen, issei eats. mf has the biggest appetite you’ve ever seen. ceo of “you eating that?”. every time you see him on the couch he either has a bag of crisps, chocolate, popcorn, leftovers from last night or a takeout he ordered in his lap. man just loves food (i relate ‘sei dw). but all that eating makes boy bloat like crazy. like, he has a fast metabolism so mf never gains weight that much🙄. but he could literally eat half a sharing bar of chocolate and suddenly he’s eight weeks pregnant. also, he didn’t know what bloating was until you finished a movie night and mf took half the popcorn, had his own bag of jellies and three of the small multipack chocolate bars. so when he undressed for his shower and caught a glimpse of his stomach that normally only has a bit of pudge, pushed out to where it looks like he gained weight over night he has a stroke. this how shiz went down:

“(Y/N)!!” you literally sprinted to the bathroom thinking he fell or sum. “what issei? what happened?!”. “have i, have i always been this big?” “what? you look like you always do”. the distressed noise he let out along with him fake stumbling and grabbing the counter had you confused. “i look pregnant! what do you mean i always look like this? we’re getting a treadmill or at home gym or whatever i need to get back to how i was. good lord i really let myself go.” he ran a hand across his face while rubbing his stomach and looking in the mirror. then it hit you. “oh my god you fucking idiot, you do realise how much shit you are right? your just bloated.” “bloated? the fuck is that?”. you then spent the next fifteen minutes sitting on the toilet seat explaining what bloating was while he showered.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇: i just know baby don’t got teeth that look like a fresh set of veneers. and it’s not like they crazy crooked, just slightly that you barley notice unless you’re up close and stare at his mouth. but because he’s always looking at himself it’s the first thing he sees. this leads to him covering his mouth whenever he laughs and only slightly smirking or lifting his mouth to a small closed lip smile when he’s told to smile. everytime he has to take a picture with his family one of his auntie who’s taking it shouts: “smile issei!” every time. and he always says: “i am though”which leads to his getting pinched in the side by his mother and her telling him: “fucking smile properly before i whoop your ass” through gritted teeth while she smiles brightly herself. he grew to not care as much when, you again, told him you love his smile when he threw his head back instead of covering his mouth when you told him a funny story.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒/𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐒: heavenly i know, but bby doesn’t completely agree. we all know boy thick especially those gorgeously thick thighs! but he just thinks they’re too thick. he’s used to seeing oikawa and makki’s slender ones, so when he stands in front of the mirror in a pair of swim shorts he bought and they’re swinging on his waist but about to rip around his thighs he can feel himself start to tear up. and then, what a suprise, you walk in!

~ start story:)): “ ‘sei! you ready to go, oh are you okay?”. he whips his head around to see you standing in the doorway in the swim set you just bought your self. ‘god you look so good’ he thinks to himself. “uh yeah yeah i’m good just need a few minutes these uh, they don’t fit.” he brings a hand to his face and uses his index finger and thumb to wipe the tears in the corner of his eyes. “oh well then you can just tie the strings, that’s what they’re there for, i told you to go a size down silly”. you stand infront of him and start to tie the strings in the shorts around his waist. “no doll, they aren’t to big, they’re to small look” he motions his head to the way they’re straining around his thighs and he just wants to start crying again. “oh i see, we’ll theres nothing we can do there , is there? we’ll just buy another pair on the way.” how? he thinks. how are you not laughing in his face that his legs are to fat to fit in a pair of shorts that are 2 sizes to big for him? “i know what you’re thinking,” your soft voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “why is she not laughing at me huh? she probably thinks i’m fuckin’ ugly” you do your best to mimic his deep voice but just sound silly trying, making him let out a small laugh. “how many times have i told you how much i adore your legs hm? how many times have i done, such oh so sinful things on them while going on about how much i love them?. to many to count issei. so next time you think all those silly bad thoughts just think of me and every time i tell you nice things about them!”. now he’s definitely crying, but this time over how much your words helped him. and now he feels like a million dollars as he struts across the beach to the three men waiting for you with his neon orange shorts tied around his waist and clinging to his thighs. end story :))~

jesus i forgot about his legs. anyway, all his life he’s been told how ‘lanky he is’ and how long his legs are. this makes him feel like shit really,most of his jeans stop above his anlke so the only type of socks he had is the long ones that he uses to hide his ankles fromm people, making them think he has the perfect size. he’ll never forget the time he spent hours shopping with his mother and trying on countless pairs of trousers for an upcoming wedding that and they stop above his ankle. he feels embarrassed really, seeing the fitter tell him they can just get them custom made, but it’ll cost more plus the original price. watching how distressed his mother gets when he tells her how much it’ll be. he doesn’t want his mother spending that much money on a pair of trousers he’ll wear once so he butts in saying it’s fine and he’ll deal with it by wearing black socks and no one will notice. the same exact problem happens several years later except in his mother’s place is makki along with oikawa and iwa, watching him get fitted for your wedding. he tells himself ‘think of (y/n), think of (y/n) and how much she says she loves your legs’ but it’s hard to when all the other men have no problem finding the perfect suit size. he doesn’t want to pay extra for a custom suit but that’s what it looks like is going to happen.

-end <3

[the-bau-quinjet]

I watched it begin again

Chapter 4 of In Breakable Heaven!

Summary: Reader runs into Spencer again a few weeks later!

Warnings: none

Word Count: ~1800

It was a few weeks later before you ran into Spencer again, literally. You stopped at the grocery store on your way home to pick up some snacks for the binge-watching you were planning for your evening. As you placed the third dessert item in your cart, you turned the corner and ran straight into something- no, someone. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed as you reached for the popcorn you had knocked out of his hands. “Let me get that for you.” As you stood back up, something about the scuff marks on this man’s converse reminded you of someone.

“Hi Y/N.” You finally manage to compose yourself and hand him the popcorn before stuttering out a greeting in return. Spencer glances at your cart before asking, “planning a party?”

  “What? Oh! No, I just had a kind of long day and I wanted to go home and hide from the world while indulging in some sugary treats.” A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you realize you just admitted the multitude of foods in your cart are in fact all for you. “I couldn’t decide what to get, so I figured a little bit of everything would solve the problem.” You laughed awkwardly as you try to explain your cart. It looks as though a three year old had free rein.

  “Trust me, I understand.” Spencer laughed with you. “I always have something sweet nearby. I am definitely known to have a sweet tooth.”

  “Oh, well would you care to join me?” You instantly froze when you realized what you said. You aren’t normally so forward. “I could use a friend.” You add on in hopes of diffusing the growing tension.

  “Um, yeah I’ll, uh, I’ll join you.” Spencer is rubbing the back of his neck as you begin walking through the store.

  “Great! You can pick the ice cream flavor!” You turned and started walking before you could come up with something even more awkward to say.

  You pick out a few more sweet treats before paying for your groceries and heading to your car. Spencer says he will meet you at your place after he helps you load the groceries into the trunk.

15 minutes later, you’ve returned home and put the groceries that need to be kept cold away. You move everything else to the coffee table so you and Spencer can reach whatever you want easily.

  You are reaching up to get some bowls for the ice cream when you hear a knock on your door. You glance through the peephole just to make sure it is Spencer before swinging the door open with a grin. “Welcome to the sweetest apartment in the building!” The two of you laugh as you close and lock the door.

  “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” You aren’t sure what to say now that he’s actually in your apartment. You don’t have the same barriers you had last time. You are both perfectly sober and neither one of you just went through a massive breakup. “Yeah, sure”

  “Got any preference?” You ask as you look through the available movies on Netflix and Hulu. “Oh, uh, no you can pick.” Great, you hate making decisions.

  After a slightly awkward few minutes filled with overanalyzing your movie choices, you finally decide on Mr. and Mrs. Smith because it had a bit of a comedy, action, and romance. “Well, dig in!” You don’t know how else to start the conversation as you rip open a zebra cake, offering Spencer the second one in the bag. He smiles at you as he takes it, easing the tension in the room.

  You fall into a comfortable silence as you both watch the movie. You find yourself sneaking glances at Spencer whenever you really want to see his reaction to a certain scene. You can’t really tell if he’s enjoying it, but he has laughed a few times.

  A half hour into the movie, you decide you want some ice cream. “I’m going to go change and grab some ice cream. Want any?”

  “Oh, yes please” Spencer sounds slightly surprised at your sudden question, but you just walk into your room to find some pajamas. You slip on some shorts and a t-shirt pulling on a pair of fluffy socks as you make your way back into the kitchen to get the ice cream. You decide just to bring the two bowls, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and sprinkles with you so Spencer can add his own toppings.

  You somehow manage to balance everything as you walk back over to the couch. You are so focused on not dropping the sprinkles that you don’t notice Spencer has been staring at you since you exited your room. He blinks a few times as you set down the toppings exclaiming “it’s a build your own Sunday bar” as you hand him a bowl and a spoon. You sit back down on the couch, closer than before since you need to reach the toppings.

  “Can you pass me the whipped cream?” Butterflies form in your stomach as your hand brushes his.

  “Whipped cream as we know it today was invented by Charles Getz in the 1930s. Of course, hand whipped cream can be dated back to the 16th century. They would use tree or bush branches as a whisk to incorporate air into the cream.” You could listen to Spencer ramble for the rest of your life.

  You smile at him while you squirt enough whipped cream to completely cover the ice cream and then some. You look up to see Spencer staring. Quickly, you look away and hand him the whipped cream. “Sorry, I just really like whipped cream.”

  “No, you don’t need to apologize! I’m just happy.” A confused look forms on your face as you look back, urging him to continue. “I, uh, I’m just glad you feel comfortable enough to be yourself with me. Most people wouldn’t have even admitted this was their plan for the night. I’m happy that you invited me to join you. I absolutely love sugar.”

  “I’m happy that you’re here too. Who else would provide me with unending knowledge about all the sugary treats?” You laugh as you grab the whipped cream, pointing it at him like a weapon. “Now, tell me who invented chocolate or prepare for the consequences!”

  Spencer puts his hands up in mock surrender as he rambles on about chocolate. “Chocolate dates back to 450 B.C.. The Aztecs believed that cacao seeds were the gift of Quetzalcoatl, the god of wisdom, and the seeds once had so much value that they were used as a form of currency. Originally prepared only as a drink, chocolate was served as a bitter liquid, mixed with spices or corn puree. It was believed to be an aphrodisiac and to give the drinker strength. Today, such drinks are also known as "Chilate" and are made by locals in the South of Mexico. After its arrival to Europe in the sixteenth century, sugar was added and it became popular throughout society, first among the ruling classes and then among the common people. In the 20th century, chocolate was considered essential in the rations of United States soldiers during war.” He finished his ramble with a slight smile and a nod.

  You are so taken with his ramblings that you can’t form a response. In a panic, you decide to spray him anyway. Whipped cream goes flying all over the place as he flails in surprise. “Gotcha!” You shriek as he grabs the can and turns it on you. “Not fair, I answered your question! Now you have to answer mine.” He stops to think for a second before asking, “What language is the word dessert derived from?”

  “Now that’s not fair! You are a literal genius. I run a book store.” Spencer laughs at your feeble attempt to protest. “Just answer the question.”

  “Fine, ummmm, Latin?” You are completely guessing and by the smirk growing on his face, you are not correct.

  “Nope.” He says popping the p. “French!” You grins even wider as he sprays the whipped cream, landing some on your face despite you trying to block it with your hands.

  “Damn, I guess this is only fair.” You say rolling your eyes. He just stares at you in response, his mouth falling open just enough to be noticeable. Right as you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, he reaches over and brushes the whipped cream off your face. Before he can reach a napkin, you grab his hand. Pulling it toward you, you wrap your mouth around his fingers, licking all the whipped cream.

You have no idea what possessed you to do that, but instantly you are trying to back track. “Can’t waste any whipped cream!” The two of you had gotten much closer together throughout your whipped cream battle. Close enough that you can look into his warm hazel eyes. 

He leans closer whispering “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Something in his voice spurs you on. You whisper back “you have some on your nose.”

  Leaning impossibly closer, in an uncharacteristic show of bravery he replies “you better take care of that seeing as it’s your fault” in an equally hushed tone. 

You reach up and steady his face with your hands, leaning in to lick the whipped cream off his nose with a slight kiss. Your face flushes as you look into his eyes. You don’t know if you’re moving or he is but you are shifting closer and closer.  

  The sound of explosions break the moment as you both jump back and shift your gaze to the television. “You know, neither one of these two would make a good profiler if they couldn’t tell that their spouse was an assassin.” You laugh at how matter-of-fact that statement was, the moment on the couch drifting to the back of your mind.

  “You’re probably right.” You don’t know what to do with your hands anymore, so you pick up your ice cream. He pulls you back onto the couch and the two of you lean into each other as you eat and finish the movie.

  Two hours later, the two of you are falling asleep on the couch. After the movie ended, you put on random episodes of Parks and Rec. You finished eating and turned off the lights about 45 minutes ago under the ruse that you can see the tv better without the lights. You’ve been talking to each other pretty much nonstop as the episodes play in the background. Nothing too big, just random information about your lives. Your eyes fall shut, yet again, encouraging you to go to bed, but you don’t want the night to end. He seems to feel the same way, and the two of you fall asleep on the couch wrapped up in each other’s arms.

 tag list:

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[winterscaptain]

intellectual guesswork.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: another ajf update that requires absolutely no context to enjoy! i love you all so much. send some extra love to your favorite writers this week :)

one quick thing - if you’re on my taglist, please consider dropping a reply or a reblog! i love to see what you all think, and it encourages me to keep going :) it’s also getting a bit long, and i want to make sure my mutuals and people who engage are seeing everything - tumblr sometimes has a hard time with a lot of mentions. 

words: 1.6k warnings: none!

summary: “ignorance of the law excuses no man - from practicing it.” - addison mizner. au!may 2008

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next? edited: january 12th, 2021

You all settle into one row. Aaron’s on the end beside you, looking very sharp in a crisp black suit, his favorite Rolex, and a settled kind of confidence you’ve only seen in him a few times. It’s like he’s in his natural habitat. 

Aaron’s record as a federal prosecutor speaks for itself, of course, but you’ve never seen him in action. As often as they can, the bureau’s leadership sends him in as an expert witness. This time, the case happens to be one of yours. The judge hasn’t required a sequestration for Aaron, so you get the treat of sitting together in the courtroom. 

He’s scoffed and mumbled snide remarks under his breath all morning. You’re just itching to see him get up on the stand and give this joker an education. 

Emily leans over, whispering in your ear. “I promise you’ve never seen anything like this before. Hotch is going to rip this clown to shreds.” 

You stifle a laugh and look over at Aaron. He heard her. Leaning toward you, he murmurs, “All my JD does is collect dust. When I use it, I’d like to enjoy it.” 

“Your Honor, the prosecution would like to call our expert witness, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, to the stand.” 

He takes a breath and rises, buttoning his suit jacket and crossing the courtroom. His presence commands respect and everyone in the courtroom seems to shrink before him. 

The prosecution’s questions go over smoothly, and the defense attorney stands with an unreasonable amount of confidence. 

Emily leans over. “He thinks he can get Hotch with at least one of these questions, and he might. But just watch.” 

You nod, taking everything in. 

“So you’ve stated that it was your profile of the killer that led you and the police to my clients door that night.” 

“Behavioral analysis was a factor in our investigation, yes.” 

Without hesitation, the attorney follows up. “And was behavioral analysis also a factor in the Olympic Park bombings case in Atlanta?” 

“Yes, it was.” Aaron’s eyes and tone never waver, no hint of arrogance or cheek. 

“And was that suspect you identified,” the attorney asks, far too aggressively, “Richard Jewell, ever convicted of the bombings?”

The prosecution objects, and you watch Aaron. Every part of him observes the proceedings with an outwardly detached interest, but his eyes are alive - strategizing and anticipating. It’s like you can see the wheels turning as the lawyers bicker. 

 The judge ends the squabble. “I’ll allow it.”

Aaron, now with permission, answers simply, “No, he was not convicted.”

“Because he was innocent. Your profile led you to the wrong man.” 

Oh, give me a break. It takes everything in you not to scoff and you can feel Emily’s eye roll.

“Jewell was not the perpetrator, but if you look at the real Olympic Park Bomber, Eric Rudolph, you’ll see that our profile was dead-on.” 

Dead-on indeed, Aaron. 

“Well, how about we look at the Baton Rouge Killer? Your unit said that he was white and living in the city. He was Black and from the suburbs.”

Aaron’s eyes narrow and you feel Spencer shift beside you. Emily shakes her head. “Don’t worry,” she whispers. “He always recovers, never in the way you’d expect.” 

“How do you know?”

Emily’s face pulls into a little smile. “I’ve read the transcripts. Hotch is terribly clever.” 

“You said that Dennis Rader, the B.T.K. Killer,” the attorney continues, “was divorced and impotent. He turned out to be married with two kids.” 

JJ huffs, and you hear her whisper to Spencer, “Can we quit with the sermon?” 

His lips turn up. “Just wait.”

Dave leans over and stares them down over Derek. Stop talking. 

All of you look down at your hands like chastised children, but your gaze floats back to Aaron right away. 

The prosecution objects again, this time on the grounds of preaching. The judge forces a question, and the attorney turns back on Aaron.

“Having been wrong on those cases, isn’t it possible that you were wrong about Brian Matloff?” 

“No.” Your chest squeezes. He’s completely firm in his denial. 

How does he do that?

“Fact is,” the attorney continues like Aaron didn’t speak at all, “behavioral analysis is really just intellectual guesswork. You probably couldn’t tell me the color of my socks with any greater accuracy than a carnival psychic.” 

“Objection!” 

Her outburst is unnecessary. Aaron has a plan. His eyes track to you as if to check in. Are you paying attention? 

If you weren’t watching before, you’re certainly watching now. Always. 

“Withdrawn.” 

“Charcoal grey.” His flat assertion makes you gasp and you immediately cover your mouth with your hand to stifle the sound. 

The attorney turns around. “Well, look at that,” he exposes his socks to the court, and they are, in fact, charcoal grey. “He got one right.”

Aaron’s not finished. “You match them to the color of your suit to appear taller. You also wear lifts and you’ve had the soles of your shoes replaced. One might think you’re frugal, but in fact, you’re having financial difficulties.” 

You do your best to school your expression and remove your hand from your mouth. Checking down the row, you see six smirks watching the witness box. 

“You wear a fake Rolex…”

And you’d know. 

“...because you pawned the real one to pay your debts. My guess would be to a bookie.” 

Is he smiling?

“I took this case pro bono.” There’s tension in Mr. Charcoal Grey’s voice. You can hear it behind the false confidence and it pulls a smile from you. “I am one of the most successful criminal attorneys in the state.”

Hotch continues, completely bypassing him. “Your vice is horses.” There’s definitely a little smile on his face now. “Your Blackberry’s been buzzing on the table every twenty minutes, which happens to be the average time between posts from Colonial Downs. You’re getting race results.” Your smile gets wider, and Emily grabs your hand. 

“Just watch.”

“And every time you do, it affects your mood in court, and you’re not having a very good day.” There’s something that looks almost like concern on Aaron’s face, but you know it’s nothing if not facetious. He’s ripping this poor man to shreds without changing a single thing about his presentation.

I love - 

Don’t finish that thought. 

Why not?

Remember how he’s freshly divorced?

I know, but have you seen him?

“That’s because you pick horses the same way you practice law -” 

You lean forward and Emily follows, her thumbnail between her teeth. 

The final blow. 

“- by always taking the long shot.” 

If this was any other setting, you’re sure the entire team would be on their feet, shouting and jeering. But alas, you’re in court, so you settle for a wide smile and a suppressed laugh. Amused brown eyes meet yours from across the room and you shake your head just the tiniest bit. I can’t believe you.

His lips twitch. 

“Well, you spin a very good yarn, Agent, but as usual, you’ve proven nothing.” He’s just trying to recover something, anything left of his dignity. He fails, miserably. 

“If I’m not mistaken,” Aaron says, his eyebrows raised just a little, “the results from the fifth race should be coming through any minute.”

Just then, his Blackberry buzzes on the defense table. “Why don’t you tell us if your luck has changed?”

You raise your hands to your face to cool the rising heat in your cheeks. 

“Your honor, this is - “

The judge takes matters into his own hands. “What do you want me to do? Either show us your Blackberry or cut him loose, counselor.”

Hotch and the defense attorney share a loaded look. It’s a battle of wills. 

Aaron wins. 

“Nothing further.”

+++

When you all leave the courthouse, you practically latch onto Aaron’s arm, completely floored. 

“How did you do that?”

He laughs and Derek jumps up beside him, shaking his shoulders. “Come on, Hotch. That was incredible.” 

“Why have a law degree if you aren’t going to use it?”

+++

He offers you a ride home later that evening and you take him up on it. You’re both still in the car, idling in front of your house. 

“That really was impressive today,” you admit, your eyes on your hands.

You can feel his soft smile rather than see it. “Thanks. I know it didn’t quite go the way we wanted as far as the case itself, but there’s more to come.” 

“It’s never as bad as it looks in the first couple of days.” 

“Exactly.” He sighs. “Thanks again for being there today. It’s…” his lips twist as he thinks, “nice to have the team around.” 

You reach out, squeezing his forearm before immediately letting him go. “Of course. We’ll always be there for you. Plus, there’s nothing better than watching you tear blowhard lawyers to shreds in a court of law.” 

“I’m not sure that’s exactly how it went.” 

“You’re kidding!” You laugh. “That’s just what happened. The man left without half his soul! You absolutely tore it from his body.”

The pair of you quiet, and you move to get out of the car. He stops you with a hand over yours as you unclip your seatbelt. “Really. Thanks for being there today.” 

“I can’t emphasize this enough - it was my pleasure.” 

Enough of a pleasure as it was, his smile in the dark of the car is the best part of your day.  

+++

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[dilly-oh]

Laundry Day

    It had been building for weeks now. Piling up, bit by bit. Iruka ignored it for as long as he could, shoving it to the back of his mind and going about his daily business, teaching at the Academy and pulling shifts at the Mission Desk like nothing was wrong. But eventually, even he could deny it no longer. When he checked his closet and found that all he had to wear was a single ketchup-or-maybe-blood-stained crop-top, tight yoga shorts, and flip-flops, he knew it was finally time to stop putting it off. There was no other choice left. 

    He had to do laundry.

    “Oh my God, who did you kill?” Anko asked as he dragged the bulging laundry bag down the hallway of his apartment complex.

    “You, if you don't back off,” Iruka snapped at her. “There's just enough room in here for a body.”

    “I sincerely doubt that,” Anko said, cocking an eyebrow at the huge bag. “Seriously, what gives? That thing must be, like, a hundred pounds. Is this some kind of new training craze?”

    “It's laundry day,” Iruka stated. Anko blinked. “I haven't done laundry in two months,” he went on impatiently. “It's kind of hard to find the time between my job teaching, my job at the Mission Desk, and my other job keeping Naruto and Sasuke from killing or kissing each other in public, and since they all count as full-time jobs with none of the benefits, I literally have nothing else to wear.” 

    “Ah. That would explain the booty shorts.”

    “They're called yoga shorts, and they're comfortable.”

    “I don't care what they're called, your ass looks amazing in them.”

    “Stop ogling me!” Iruka barked, his cheeks flaming. Anko's eyes didn't move. “Am I gonna have to go have another talk with HR?” Anko paled.

    “Oh, God, please don't. Last time I had to watch a three-hour film on sexual harassment in the workplace. I had to take notes. There was a quiz after.” 

    “Then stop. STARING.” Iruka gave Anko one last glare, then continued on his way, dragging his laundry bag after him with all the dignity he could muster. Which wasn't alot, considering the bag was heavy as fuck and he'd kinda been neglecting his standard workout routine. Because, you know, three jobs or whatever. 

    There were quite a few laundromats scattered about Konoha, all stocked with specialized, heavy-duty cleaning supplies for shinobi needs (to aid in the removal of blood, guts, and other icky bits picked up from slaughtering enemies and whatnot). The one Iruka usually frequented was located about ten blocks away, which normally wasn't too bad, especially if Iruka went by rooftop. However, that was quite impossible at the moment, considering his giant bag of dirty clothes was hefty and ungainly enough that it would probably squirt right out of his arms and kill an unfortunate pedestrian below. Also, it was the middle of summer and the sun had decided to be an asshole that day, blazing down like some kind of fire Jutsu and scalding every living thing in sight. To make matters worse, the laundry bag seemed to grow heavier with every step until it was like dragging Hokage mountain down the street. So by the time Iruka finally managed to heave the bag halfway across Konoha and up a flight of stairs into the laundromat itself, he was a hot, sweaty mess, his ponytail half-undone and hanging in his face, damp clothing sticking to his skin. 

    Which was exactly why Hatake motherfucking Kakashi was in there, of fucking course. There was no way Iruka's silly little crush wouldn't be in the one place he'd hoped he wouldn't be. 

    Iruka wanted to crawl into the nearest drier and turn it on.

    Maybe he won't see me, he thought as he quietly slipped inside.

    “Hey, Iruka!” Kotetsu shouted from across the entire laundromat. “Nice shorts!” 

    Everyone immediately turned to look.

    Well I know who I'm going to kill now, Iruka thought to himself miserably as he was ogled by every shinobi in the room. He made a mental checklist and vowed to prank each one in retaliation. His body was a temple.

    “You know you could have just stuffed that in a scroll,” Genma said after peeling his gaze off Iruka's thighs, twitching his senbon at the bulging bag. 

    “I'll stuff you in a fucking scroll,” Iruka hissed at him, wiping a sweaty strand of hair out of his face.

    “Ooh, baby, talk dirty to me,” Genma cooed.

    “You're disgusting,” Iruka said flatly. He glanced around, looking for a table with any inch of free space, perfectly willing to fight someone for it. There, in the back, he spotted one last table...right next to Kakashi. Because, you know, this day couldn't get any worse. Iruka debated waiting an extra ten minutes or so to see if the laundromat emptied out a bit, saw Genma wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at him, and decided anything was better than this. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he dragged his bag over to the open table beside Kakashi and started dumping clothes out.

    Kakashi, thankfully, didn't respond to his sudden arrival except for a polite grunt and nod in greeting. Iruka nodded back, then focused for the next several minutes on organizing his dirty clothes, intent on ending this humiliation as quickly as possible. As he worked, he couldn't help but sneak glances at Kakashi while he sorted his lights and darks. The man was busy folding his own laundry, bent over the table, his movements precise and methodical, done with the utmost care. Iruka almost suspected he was using the Sharingan to achieve such perfect folds. He glanced down at the clothes themselves, expecting combat fatigues or maybe a pair of well-worn sweats. 

    Instead, he was surprised to discover Kakashi was folding almost two dozen miniature flak jackets with some kind of funny emblem on the back. 

    “Did...did you accidentally shrink that in the drier or something?” Iruka blurted out before he could stop himself. Kakashi looked over at him, blinking lazily, then chuckled, a husky sound that made Iruka's knees weak. 

    “Of course not,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “This is my ninken's laundry.” 

    Iruka had to hold in a snort. The famed Copy-Nin of Konoha, scourge of all enemies, feared by missing-nin, doing his ninken's laundry? It was ridiculous! It was absurd! It was...

    Adorable, quite frankly. Iruka's heart melted a little at the sight of him carefully piling up their little vests, careful not to crease them.

    “It's a pain,” Kakashi went on. “They're so picky. I have to use unscented detergent and dryer sheets or they complain.”

    “Too bad they don't sell a fresh cat-shit scent,” Iruka chuckled awkwardly before biting his lip. 

    Kakashi, however, took no offense, throwing his head back and laughing aloud.

    “Ha! They'd like that! Maybe they have a three-day-old steak one, too.” He grinned at Iruka through his mask, one visible eye twinkling. Iruka flushed, and he quickly turned back to his laundry, realized he was holding a pair of underwear, and flung it away, his face flushing darker as he busied himself with sorting again. “You've got quite a load,” Kakashi went on after a moment, nodding at the mountainous pile in front of him.

    “Yeah, I've been putting it off for a while,” Iruka grumbled distractedly, searching for a stray sock's missing partner with no luck. “This is literally the last thing I have to wear, so I either do laundry today or go into work tomorrow naked.”

    “I knew I should have finished that mission report,” Kakashi said under his breath.

    “Very funny,” Iruka scoffed in annoyance, shoving his first few loads into the nearby washing machines.

    “Oh, I'm dead serious.”

    The annoyance turned to anger, and Iruka looked over at the other man to give him a piece of his mind, only to find him staring right back, his warm grin having grown into something much more inviting, bordering on flirtatious. Iruka's sharp comment died in his throat and he cleared it roughly, feeling hot all over. Awkwardly, he reached for change in his pockets, then froze. He looked down and swore. He didn't even fucking have pockets. Stupid booty- YOGA shorts. He'd forgotten the quarters, and he didn't dare leave his clothes unattended for fear someone like Genma would be a creep and steal a pair of underwear or something. Also, Izumo and Kotetsu had a habit of borrowing things and never returning them, and he could see them eyeing several of his favorite shirts from across the laundromat. He'd just have to pack everything up and return home. What a waste, the whole trip had been for nothing-

    The clink of coins snapped him out of his mental cursing, and he looked up in shock to see Kakashi paying for his loads. 

    “Oh no,” he sputtered, “please, Kakashi, you don't have to-”

    “It's fine. You can pay next time,” Kakashi said with a wave. 

    “But I...well...oh, alright, fine.” Iruka sighed, giving in. “Thank you.”

    “So it's a date then,” Kakashi said. “Which cycle do you prefer?” 

    “Cotton cycle, cold water, extra rinse, please,” Iruka said automatically, then blinked. “Wait, I'm sorry, did you say-” 

    “See you next week,” Kakashi was already halfway to the door, his ninken's clothes tucked under his arms and a pile of quarters left on Iruka's table for the rest of his loads. Iruka gaped after him in shock. 

    Had that...really just happened? Had he really exchanged pleasantries with one of the most infamous shinobi of Konoha while folding laundry? Or had it all been merely a dream, a figment of his imagination-

    “You washing those shorts, too?” Genma asked hopefully, leering like a hungry wolf.

    Nope, he was definitely awake. Iruka threw some Tide-pods at Genma to chase him away before turning back to his loads, shaking his head in wonder.

    He'd definitely be doing his laundry more often from now on.

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Ten Prompt: Laundry)

[yannowhatigiveup]

My One And Only - Chapter 18

Previous | Next | Master List

Hey! Welcome back to another chapter of MOaO! I won’t be able to update this as much as I want to (I’m not really updating it as fast as I won’t to right now but I’m trying) as exams are coming up as well as other various things. (I just realized that I haven’t said this earlier I’m so sorry, Ramadan Kareem to those who celebrate it!) Also, thank you so much for 128 followers!

"...I believe I found a way to subdue Hawkmoth"

————————————————————

Her eyes repeatedly scanned the page, making sure she was reading it correctly.

"It won't defeat Hawkmoth" Damian carefully pointed out, not wanting to diminish her excitement. "But it'll be able to stop him for some time, a month or two at most"

"Do you know what this means?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "We'll be able to have some peace of mind! We'll be able to prepare ourselves! The whole of Paris! Who know, maybe we'll be able to get some clues on his identity as well as Mayura's as well!"

By the end, Marinette was spinning around the room, her slight giggles of happiness appeared here and there. Damian chuckled at her delight, seeing her happy was probably one of his most favourite sites in the world, that and seeing her flustered.

"I understand that you're excited but what do these cryptic messages mean, 'a tear of joy'? Did I translate that correctly"

She giggled at his confusion. "No that's one of the ingredients for the power up. Speaking of ingredients, I need to get some" Her bluebell eyes quickly scanned over the tablet again before she speed walked out of the hotel with Damian on her arm. "We're going to Master Fu's old place, he still has some ingredients we could use"

The two walked in silence, there was a topic that they needed to discuss, the end of the week was approaching fast.

"Maybe in the small time of peace, I can get Father and my brothers to help"

The bluenette chuckled slightly but not out of amusement. "I almost forgot, you'll be leaving in a few days" her gaze fell to the ground before she looked up at her boyfriend, solemnly. "It's gonna be a lot different, huh?"

He squeezed her hand gently with a comforting smile on his face. "It will be but I'm sure we'll handle it"

The couple grabbed the necessary ingredients and made their way back to the hotel. They dropped them off at the hotel room before making their way upper to the restaurant to get some food. Their dinner was quickly interrupted by a rockstar coming to congratulate his niece.

"Nettie! You're rock'n'roll! Your song is a huge hit!" Jagged exclaimed once he reached the table, he only seemed to register there was another person there once he sat down. His moderate cyan eyes widened in recognition when his gaze landed on the green-eyed boy. "You must be Damian, you look just like you're old man Brucie"

Damian shook his hand when the rockstar had offered it. "I am, Mr Stone"

"Uncle Jagged-"

"You break my niece's heart, I'll send Fang to eat you"

"Uncle Jagged!-"

"And I will gladly let you"

"I approve of your relationship, I just wanted to give the shovel talk since it sounded fun"

Marinette gaped at the two males on her table. "Dami, don't encourage him! I've already got Gami waiting to spar with you"

"Ah yes, my son's girlfriend is just as scary as Penny" Jagged visibly shuddered in good nature.

"Wait, Luka and Gami got together? Without telling me?!" The bluenette huffed, offended. "And to think I'm his honorary cousin"

Jagged chortled at her reaction while Damian had a faint smile playing on his lips. The rockstar decided to take his leave shortly after that, not wanting to draw some unwanted attention. He did manage to leave a pair of blushing teens as he told them to "Use protection!" before departing. Marinette was utterly embarrassed while Damian was flustered. Once dinner was finished, the couple went back to Damian's hotel room to discuss what they were going to do next.

Doing his best to help, Damian passed the ingredients to his girlfriend who then mixed up said ingredients in a pot.

"Can you get the Tear of Joy, Dami?"

The green-eyed boy looked through the ingredients until he found the slim bottle with a minuscule amount of clear liquid. He eyed the water as it squished in the bottle, it seemed so ordinary despite the great magic it could create. Damian could almost see the water taunting him with its mystic properties, he could just about feel it as he brought the bottle closer to the cauldron.

"This is it, correct?" The ravenette showed the blue-eyed girl the bottle in his hand

Her eyes lit up when presented with the vial. "Yes, that's it" As she removed the cork that was sealing the bottle shut, Damian asked a question that was lingering in the back of his mind.

"What exactly is the tear of joy?"

Marinette turned to smile at him. "It's a tear of joy"

"So a tear caused by laughter?"

"Precisely" She looked up at the ceiling wistfully. "I remember, when Syren attacked, Master Fu was trying to decode what a 'tear of joy' was. It took some time but we managed to figure it out in the end" She sighed. "It's great that we managed to find out about 'power-ups' but if we found out about them sooner, maybe more people would've been saved."

He put his hands comfortably on her shoulders. "What did Syren do exactly?"

She stopped dead in her tracks. That wasn't the reaction that Damian was expecting, whatever had happened with this Akuma must have been bad to induce this response.

The bluenette sighed and looked at the green-eyed boy straight into his emerald eyes. "Syren was one of the most dangerous Akumas we've ever had to deal with. She flooded all of Paris with her tears, only a few hundred people managed to reach the rooftops in time"

A breath quickly sucked in through his lips, the scene itself sounded horrible, imagining it even more so, having to actually see it must have been... traumatic.

"But Ondine is doing much better with Kim. And it's all in the past, we've learnt how to deal with the memories!" Her smile hurt to look at. His girlfriend had to deal with so much and she couldn't even express her negativity without fear of becoming an akuma. Damian placed a kiss on her head as she finally got the lid off of the bottle.

Both teens watched in anticipation as the droplet rolled down to the bottle's lip, teetering over the edge. It fell in. The concoction then shimmered a silvery blue. Grabbing a bottle, Marinette poured some of the liquid inside it, looked at the bottle and hummed in satisfaction. She quickly put all the equipment used back in a box and cleaned up any mess made. Once she was finished, she turned to the boy standing over her.

"I'll bring these back to Master Fu's old apartment then I'll drop this bottle off at my house, you can tell Tikki and Plagg that they can come out now"

The contents of the box shifted to one side, Damian helped steady both the bluenette and the box before going to the kwamis. Once the kwamis where comfortably with their owners, Tikki in Marinette's purse and Plagg in Damian's hoodie pocket, they made their way to the apartment. It still technically belonged to Master Fu, he rest hadn't rented it out so they were free to roam around. After putting the equipment away, the couple strolled to Marinette's house hand in hand. The bluenette went up to her balcony, with Damian close behind, and hid the bottle under her pink-striped deck chair, away from the sunlight.

"It needs to 'mature' in the moonlight, I guess. So when the moon is out, I'll take the bottle out" Marinette gestured for Damian to follow her as she went back down to the bakery portion of her house. "I'll give you some Camembert with the power ups infused. But I'll have to make it first!"

She hummed as she went upside to retrieve other substances that Master Fu had taught her to create. In the moment she was gone, Plagg appeared.

"I hate transforming!" The black kwami whined, settling in the boy's hair.

"What's so bad about it?" Damian raised an eyebrow at Plagg's outburst.

"It ruins the beautiful taste of Camembert, and it tastes weird"

"Quit your whining Plagg" Tikki's squeaky, but still relatively scary, voice rang out as both she and her owner returned.

"But Sugarcube-"

"No 'but's Stinky Sock!"

Damian watched with quiet amusement while Marinette giggled, handing him a wheel of Camembert.

"The cheese is cut up in different slices, each representing a different power up. I'll explain which is which on the way back to the hotel"

Damian put the wheel in his pocket before taking the bluenette's hand. "I look forward to it"

~~~

Each power up was simple enough, they all had a different colour corresponding with it's ability, making it easier to memorize. The couple walked by a dark alley as Damian check the time. Passing his phone to the bluenette next to him, Marinette took one glance at the time before dragging the two of them into said dark alley. It was time for patrol. Once both were done transforming, Noir and Ladybug made their to the assigned rooftop. When landing, Noir took his staff and looked through the help guide to get a better idea of what weapon he was working with. Spinning the staff with his hands, he separated the staff into two separate batons. He hummed in contentment.

"Grayson never gave me his escrima sticks for missions. I suppose this is good training if I ever want to use them"

The two rods snapped back together with a satisfying snap. Continuing to look through the articles on his now full staff, Noir didn't even notice when Ladybug moved to stand behind him. In one swift motion, the spotted heroine pulled down the black hood that was shielding the black cat-themed hero's face.

"La-"

Her covered fingers stroked his black cat ears, she giggled as his cheeks flushed. The feeling itself was unusual to the green-eyed hero, he had never felt anything remotely similar before but he wouldn't say he didn't enjoy it. It was just... unexpected. The spotted heroine, however, quite liked making the stoic Noir flustered. His ears felt so much like a real cat's that Ladybug was nearly taken aback, she got used to it after her shock, though. Noir found himself leaning into her touch but looking at everything but her in embarrassment.

Had his ears not been occupied he probably would've heard the two other heroes arriving, he only knew they were here as he saw them in his peripheral vision, rolling his eyes as he noticed them snickering.

'Angel, Rena and Chien are here'

Ladybug's head snapped in the direction of the two other heroes, one of her hands left his head as she she greeted the fox and the dog.

"Hello Rena Rouge, Chien" Ladybug greeted them casually, something Noir knew he couldn't do at that moment.

"Hello to you too LB! Hey Noir, did the bug find a way to tame you?

He mumbled a reply.

Ladybug giggled before turning to properly address the other heroes. "I've been thinking of adding three more members. I know it's a lot since you, Rena, have only just been announced as a permanent user and you, Chien, have basically just joined. But Noir and I found something that will require their help. I have a hunch that Hawkmoth might try something like Guerrier but with the same level as Syren"

The fox-themed hero nodded. "You need all the help you can get. So who do you have in mind?"

"A Snake, a Bee and a Dragon" The spotted heroine answered with no hesitation. "We'll need a snake as it is... intuitive"

Upon registering the description, Chien chuckled. "Isn't that the point?"

"Perhaps" Ladybug hummed with a smile on her face. "A dragon can control elements, a strong power would be useful. The bee miraculous's power is immobilization-"

"Paralysis can be very beneficial when trying to stop an akuma" Noir provided his input.

"Yes. So what do you think?" The spotted heroine looked between the three heroes standing on the rooftop with her. Noir hummed approval while Chien gave her a thumbs up.

"You always have the best ideas, Bug!" Rena voiced out her agreement, Ladybug let out a sigh of relief she didn't know she was holding.

"Then I'll go get them now shall I? We gotta teach them as fast as we can" The blue-eyed heroine took the yo-yo from her hip, spinning it with a flick of her wrist. "I'll send them here and then you show them the ropes"

"Aye aye Captain!" Chien saluted and Rena followed suit, only after a quick laugh. Noir rolled his eyes in good nature while pulling his hood back up, flicking his cat ears before doing so.

Hurling her yo-yo at a nearby building, Ladybug hissed through the air, her yo-yo latching onto another building as she neared the previous. Soon enough, she landed gracefully in a quiet area where two familiar figures were strolling hand in hand.

"Ladybug?" A boy with dyed hair questioned, a bluenette with short hair and almond eyes next to him.

She nodded before pulling out two miraculous from her yo-yo with, presumably, unlimited storage. "Luka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, these are the miraculous of the Snake and the miraculous of the Dragon. They grant you the powers of Intuition and Perfection. You will use these miraculouses for the greater good, can I trust you?"

Luka and Kagami shared a knowing look then turned to the heroine in front of them.

"You can count on use Ladybug"

"We're honored to be chosen to fight by your side, my Ladybug"

She gave them the miraculous and watched as they both transformed into Viperion and Ryuko. "The others are waiting at this location." She showed them a map on her yo-yo. "I'll meet you there once I finish with a task a have to do." She hissed through the air once more, thanks to her yo-yo, and landed on a rooftop that was very familiar now. There stood a blonde, leaning on the banister.

"Ladybug?" Chloe's confused voice rang out.

"Hello Chloe Bourgeois" Ladybug took something from her yo-yo. "This is the Bee miraculous, it grants the power to immobilise your opponents. Should you choose to help us-"

"I can't"

"Pardon?"

"I said I can't" The blonde looked solemnly at the heroine. "I've been an utterly horrible person, I don't deserve to be a hero. Especially after... Queen Bee"

"People can change Chloe" Ladybug put a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "As long as they are given the chance to. Do you want to take this chancep?"

Chloe stared at the miraculous before looking at the heroine with a determined expression.

"I won't let you down, Ladybug"

~~~

Ladybug soon returned with a bee-themed heroine, named Honey Bee, by her side. After a brief reintroduction, the patrol began. Rena Rouge took the west side with Honey Bee and Viperion, Chien and Ladybug took the East while Ryuko and Noir took the North, they had already checked the South. Most of the patrol was done in silence, other than the odd 'nothing wrong here'. Ryuko had been the one to start a conversation

"You're the new wielder of black cat miraculous, correct?" The dragon user questioned Noir. He recognised it as the beginning of an interrogation.

"It certainly seems that way" Ryuko hummed.

"You fancy Ladybug, don't you" The question obviously took him aback. "Do you consider yourself... worthy?

The cat-themed hero didn't hesitate. "No"

He saw her raise her eyebrows.

"Ladybug is too virtuous for this world, there's not a soul in this entire universe worthy of her affection"

The dragon hummed in satisfaction. "You remind me of the boyfriend of one of my friends. Though I have yet to be convinced that he should date said friend, you have proved yourself worthy of Ladybug. I approve of your relationship even though it isn't my place to make such a decision"

"I am pleased" Despite the fact that he is a leader in this team, he's content with the fact he has the great dragon user's approval as she is the most intimidating of the team, other than Ladybug herself.

"Also don't mess this up, Ladybug is a Queen " Ryuko casually pointed out.

"Glad I am not the only one that thinks so"

"How can you not? Have you seen her?!"

"She's a goddess"

"You have my approval again"

~~~

Noir and Ryuko were first to arrive as they had finished their patrol early, the rest of the team weren't too far behind, however.

"Alright" Ladybug began once everyone returned. "Honey Bee, Viperion, Ryuko, it'll be best if you memorize all of Paris. That way, when there's trouble, you'll know your way around."

"I found that an aerial view is the fastest way to know the city like the back of your hand!" Rena Rouge pointed out.

"That's also the way I did it!" Chien chimed in,

"Yep! If you don't mind, there's something I'd like to discuss with both Rena Rouge and Chien. Noir, will you join us?" The spotted heroine turned to the heroes named.

"I ought to" He replied flatly.

"Alright then, follow me!" Ladybug hissed through the air followed by Noir with his staff and Rena and Chien with their enhanced abilities. Soon they landed in an alley. "I know you already know this, Rena, but I think it's fair if Chien knows too"

"Fair that I know what?" His gaze moved between the two heroines before landing on the black cat hero, silently begging for answers, to which Noir returned with an unconvincing shrug.

"That you know this. Tikki, spots off!" A blinding red light filled the narrow corner they were in, Rena shut one of her eyes while Chien shut both, Noir was shielded from the light thanks to his hoodie. Then, a certain Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood where the spotted heroine once was.

"Wh- Bu- How-" Chien spluttered as his brain combusted with all the information that was flowing through it at once. Marinette giggled at his confusion, Rena full on laughed, clutching her stomach while Noir merely smirked. "But, but I saw you standing next to Ladybug! Wait no, yourself? My brain is melting! Wait, you two knew?!" The dog-themed hero screeched.

"She's my best friend" Rena shrugged with an innocent expression, her transformation dropped. Chien stared in shock.

"She's my girlfriend" Noir mimicked Rena Rounge's shrug while letting his transformation fall too, leaving Chien the only one transformed.

"Okay THAT makes sense, you're both deathly attr- Wait, did you say best fRIEND?!" Chien shrieked and detransformed.

"ADRIEN?!" Alya exclaimed, Marinette and Damian watched in amusement.

"As entertaining as this is-" The green-eyed boy cut in before the pair would attract unwanted attention. "-Marinette needs to explain the reason why she revealed her identity to you"

The bluenette nodded. "You see early today, at school, I had this 'miraculous burn' I guess you could say from Guerrier's attack. Thanks to Alya I'm feeling better but that resulted in getting my identity revealed. So to avoid anymore incidents like that, I also told you Adrien. I can't tell the rest of the team yet as I don't want them to go all protective over me, you'll three will have enough overprotectiveness"

"Not wrong there, girl" Alya said without shame.

"I know I have to tell them my true identity at some point but right now it's better just to have you three know."

"We understand" Alya and Adrien said in unison.

"Great, now let's go back to the others so we can tell them patrol is over"

~~~

It was sunset, the orange cotton clouds contrasted beautifully with the darkening blue sky. A cool wind blew through the air, cold enough to make one shiver but not enough to catch a cold. Walking hand in hand, a couple made their way to Le Grand Paris. The bluenette looked up to the noirette next to her, leaning onto his arm covered by the Robin-themed hoodie and smiling while doing so, she closed her eyes to savor the moment.

"Angel?" Damian brushed the stray hairs on her face as she pulled away to look at him properly.

"You know, I'm really going to miss this" Marinette raised their conjoined hands as they approached the hotel doors.

He hummed and in response, put his arm around her waist to pull her closer while going through the elevator doors. "I am too"

They soon reached the hotel room, the kwamis roaming around for food once they got inside. Food in hand, Tikki and Plagg sat of the coffee table, leaning on one another as Damian turned on the screen to watch a movie. Once he was comfortably seated, Marinette joined him, snuggling into his side. He brushed his fingers through her silky midnight hair. He was going to miss this, deeply. What would life be like going back, without the beautiful bluenette physically next to him?

'I do not want to find out'

———

Provisional Cessation, It was created for the purpose of temporarily stopping a miraculous from being used if any harm were to come to the user. It would also deem it unusable for a certain period of time if the miraculous were ever come into the wrong hands. The reason Master Fu didn't tell Marinette this information was because the last time a user tried this power up, they were put into a magical induced coma, it was too risky.

———

Taglist:@little-bluestar,@miracleofadisaster,@frieddonutsweets,@jjmjjktth,@genderfluidmoma,@starlit-dreaming,@icerosecrystal,@lolieg,@kashlyn,@mochegato,@eggadoodle,@walkingthroughonautopilot,@toodaloo-kangaroo,@lady-bee-fechin,@weebjai1

[komfortkiri]

HELP WANTED (PART 2)

WOLF QUIRK F!READER x HANTA SERO x EIJIRO KIRISHIMA WORD COUNT: 2,997 TW/CW: ABSENT PARENT MENTION (I know some people get really bothered about absent parents)

NOTES: No banner yet. And yes, I posted two parts in one day BECAUSE I’M LIVING FOR THIS. The next part I’ll include things from Kiri and Sero’s POV. I got tired toward the end of this one and wanted to finish and post it before going to sleep.

Your alarm went off at 6:45 AM, allowing you more time to actually get ready and look like a decent human being.. well, sort of. You laid there for a moment, though, thinking that if this really went well, you could be leaving within the next week. You’d have to tell your father and though he’d be hurt, it wasn’t like you wouldn’t come back to visit. With a deep breath, you threw your legs off the side of the bed, holding your arms over your head to stretch. The stretch was so good that you almost fell back into your mattress and went back to sleep but you shook your head and rose to your feet, proceeding to your bathroom to shower.

After you took your shower from Hell, you walked out of your bathroom and back into your room, making your way to your closet to browse over the clothes you had. You realized quickly that you should probably do some upgrading to your wardrobe but you’ll worry about that another day. Your eyes scanned over everything and nothing really stood out to you so you pulled out your phone to check the weather, seeing that it was pretty cold out— roughly 23 degrees. Coffee definitely sounded luxurious right now and that thought alone made you check the time to see that it was now 7:15 AM. You took a little longer in the shower but the scorching water felt like Heaven to you.

You sighed, taking a long-sleeved, burgundy turtleneck half-shirt off of a hanger along with a pair of black high-waisted jeans. You tossed both articles of clothing onto the bed then went to your small dresser in the corner of your room to open the top drawer, pulling out a white colored bra and a matching pair of panties to go with it. You closed that drawer then opened the second drawer, getting some black socks that rose to just under your knee. Once you had everything, you dropped your towel then threw your undergarments on, along with your socks.

During your dressing, you received a text message from the Kiri person so you rushed over to it, hoping they weren’t cancelling the get together. Relief washed over you whenever you read the message.

FROM KIRI: Morning! Wanted to send you a text to tell you that me and my roommate are getting ready and should be at the coffee shop closer to 8:30 AM. We still on?

You replied rather quickly, it was almost creepy.. like you were waiting for a text.

TO KIRI: Good morning! Yes, of course! I’m getting ready right now as well.. I may be there earlier than you both since it’s right around the corner from me!

Once the message delivered, you threw your phone back onto your bed then put on your shirt and pants, which had a special made hole just for your tail, then walked over to your full body mirror hanging on the wall. “Not bad.. Not bad at all.” It was almost like you were hoping these were men that you were meeting. You scoffed at your thought, nah. You walked back to the bathroom to grab your hair brush, one for the hair on your head and another for the fur on your tail. It was weird in a way.. you had to color coordinate what you used for your tail because the fur wasn’t as soft as your actual hair was. Once you finished grooming yourself, you put on a pair of flat-bottom, over-the-knee, black boots. 

Time, what was the— shit! Your damned tail, taking so much time to brush through. It was now 8:05 so you had to rush a little bit if you wanted to be extra early and order what you needed so you grabbed your black trench coat off your coat rack, grabbed your phone then your backpack that held your wallet and other necessities that you may need throughout the day and booked it out of your room and out of your front door. Your dad must have had to work this morning, considering his car wasn’t out front but nonetheless, you expected as much from a police officer.

NO TIME TO THINK, you thought so you turned in the direction of the coffee shop and started walking. Your walking turned into walking fast then into.. running, which doesn’t affect you much considering it’s part of who you are. You thankfully had a bottle of perfume with you, just in case you smelt like a wet dog and you sprayed a few pumps amongst your coat and a few on your neck. You took a minute to catch your breath right outside Camille’s front door then walked in.

“My, my.. Look who it is! If it isn’t my dear Y/N! I haven’t seen you in a few weeks, must be pulling extra shifts at the animal shelter, huh?” Camille practically rushed to you, bringing you into a hug. All you could do was smile and accept her embrace then return it. If you were being honest, you really needed the hug. “Hi, Camille! I’m sorry I haven’t been visiting like I normally do. I have picked up a few more shifts so I can save up for a place of my own.” You took a seat at your usual spot, right up close to where she made most things. There was a small little bar, in which, Camille practically saved your seat every morning when you started coming in. She was like a mom to you, which was nice in its own way considering yours wasn’t worth a shit. 

Camille knew just about everything about your life so you felt awful knowing that you hadn’t been around in a few weeks but you had to do what you need to first. “You know, darling, whenever you stopped coming in, these two very handsome boys started coming in every morning. It was almost fate in a way. They kept me company while you were gone, but don’t get me wrong, I’m glad my favorite girl is back.” Boys? Was this elderly woman really trying to hint at hooking you up right now? All you could do was shake your head and laugh as she set your usual in front of you— hot hazelnut coffee, extra sweet. You lifted the glass mug to your lips, speaking from behind it, “Boys, huh? Camille, are you trying to set me up?” A smirk formed along your face as you took a sip of the coffee, humming softly in satisfaction, your ears falling back some. She always did make the best coffee, it never failed.

The older woman laughed then leaned back onto the counter opposite from the one you were at, “Now, you know I wouldn’t meddle into your love life, dear. All I’m saying is, they are complete gentleman.” She leaned forward on her elbow, whispering her next statement. “If I was year and years younger, I’d probably take both of them.” This made you snort then double over in laughter, “Camille! Shame on you!” All she did was shrug then before she could respond, her eyes lit up when she realized who was entering her shop. You noticed this look and raised an eyebrow, sipping your coffee. Camille realized your eyes were on her and she nodded toward the door, mouthing that’s them. You tried your best not to make it obvious but you turned your head just enough to the side to peer over your shoulder and boy, she was not kidding. However, these were definitely not boys.. they were pure men. 

You quickly turned your head before they realized you were ogling them, your insides heating up. All you could think of was how the good Lord above took his sweet time crafting both of them. Your heightened sense of hearing allowed you to listen in on what was being said between both of the guys and Camille so you just barely turned your left ear to the side, lifting your coffee again to take another sip.

“My boys! Where have you been? Fighting crime as usual?” Camille greeted both with a big hug each before one of them answered her. “Yes ma’am, you know us. We have to make sure nothing happens to your wonderful coffee shop.” Your heart skipped a beat at that statement. Smooth. “Always such sweethearts, come. I want you to meet another regular of mine.” Please don’t, please don’t, plea— “Y/N?” Your face was probably as red as a beet at this point but you turn anyway with a smile that was semi-forced. You hadn’t much prepared well on talking to… very, very attractive men. “Boys, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Eijiro and Hanta.” You shook each of their hands, your insides felt like they were being lit on fire at this point.

The man known as Kirishima smiled, “You can call me either Ei, Eiji or Kiri, though.” The fire was immediately put out by his statement. You were thanking all the Gods that you didn’t have your coffee in your hand because you would have dropped it. “D-Did you say Kiri?” You cleared your throat, scratching the back of your head nervously. 

“Yeah, do you know me? I mean, I’m a pro-hero but do you know someone I know or—“ You cut him off, not meaning to, but you had to get it out. “No, I.. I inquired about the roommate ad you had put up. We texted this morning and last night?” Kirishima and Sero’s eyes widened and they looked at each other. Something tells you they really weren’t expecting the person they were meeting to be a woman, but you were in the same boat because you didn’t expect for the two people you were meeting to be two gorgeous piece of asses either.

Sero spoke this time as he looked back at you, “So you are looking to be our roommate?” You blushed a soft shade of pink, not really knowing how to properly answer that but you did anyway. “Well, I-I didn’t really plan on you guys being, well… guys.” Both men laughed then Kirishima sat next to you, Sero sitting next to him on the other side. Camille put their coffees in front of him, Sero’s was partnered with a bagel. She gave you a wink then rushed back to the kitchen, peering out the little window in the door. All you could do was shake your head with a grin. “If it makes you uncomfortable, you definitely don’t have to move in with us but we’d like to be your friend.” 

You smiled at that but thought of the trouble you’d get yourself in just by being their friend. It was almost impossible not to yank both by their collars to the bathroom and— “Wolf quirk, eh?” Sero’s voice shook you out of your inappropriate thoughts. It’s almost like he knew where your head was spiraling to. “Y-Yeah. My dad is also part wolf as well.” You nodded, clearing your throat even though you really didn’t need to as there was nothing to clear. 

“What about your mom?” Sero pressed, not knowing that talking about your mother was something you hated doing. You sighed quietly, eyes darting in front of you to a blank space on the white wall in front of you. Your ear fell back, tone filled with… hatred when you spoke, which you didn’t intend for, but your burning rage for her was not controllable. “Don’t know her. She left not too long after I was a baby. Just up and left in the middle of the night and nobody has seen her since.” 

Kirishima looked at Sero, eyes saying way to go, idiot. He wanted to lighten the mood so he changed the subject quickly, “So, uh.. about your quirk..” You three sat there for what felt like hours just talking, having casual conversation. They asked about your quirk, showing high interest in every aspect of it. You reassured them that you didn’t shed hair so they didn’t need to worry about any of that. You didn’t realize that they were pro-heroes until they told you their hero names and you almost choked on your semi-hot coffee. You had heard of both but you never really are around the action to put a face to the name. They both do a lot of good work around your city, in which, you are thankful for with your father being on the police force. Without them, your dad would probably have been hurt or worse. 

Your anger about your mother had withered away and you were really enjoying yourself with the two men next to you. Your tail was moving to-and-fro the entire time, meaning you were happy. It got silent at one point and that prompted to Sero clear his throat then bump his elbow into Kirishima’s own, basically trying to push on this conversation. Kirishima turned his body a little toward you, his tone was soft, “Um.. This roommate thing.. It’s obvious you aren’t a serial killer, unless you’re a really good actor. You don’t have to give us an answ—“ You held your finger up with a smile because it was clear he was about to start rambling on due to nerves and not wanting to overstep. “You don’t have to say anymore. I’m super down for being your roommate.” It seemed like relief washed over the both of them because they smiled at you. “Hell yeah, you can move your stuff in at any time. Just let us know when so we can help you.” Sero nodded in your direction and you nodded back with a smile.

Moving in.. with two insanely attractive men.. What could go wrong, right?