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honey-flustered · 3 months ago

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Kinktober Day 7: Virginity

Fboy!Steve Harrington x Virgin!Chubby!Reader

Summary: Steve never paid you much attention until the day he found your laptop open with your rice purity test results on full display.

Warnings: 18+ smut, mentions of virginity loss, kissing, awkward!reader, pervy!steve, corruption/innocence kink

It’s criminal that the chemistry teacher paired you with thee Steve Harrington. King Steve. How on earth are you supposed to pay attention to the lesson when all you want to do is swim in his golden brown hair?

You sigh dreamily, chin resting on your hand as you studied him. God, he never looks your way. You’d give anything if he’d just acknowledge you. Anything.

He glances your way and you’re so taken aback that you’re scrambling to adjust your position. Seconds after, you ponder on whether you’d see him move his lips.

“Huh?” You say, snapping out of your daydreams.

He lets out a quick laugh then a lingering smile. “I asked if you could get us a beaker up front. I would get it but I’m so sore from basketball practice, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Oh, of course. No problem. Thank you for asking me.” You say, cringing at how lame you sound once you turn away.

Steve purposefully sent you away for a chance to look over your computer screen. Today, practically everyone has been sending each other their purity tests results as some new trend amongst your peers. You knew you haven’t done much but to see how high your score was really put it into perspective that if you were olive oil, you’d be extra virgin.

You return to your seat, unaware of his snooping at first until you seen just how broadcasted your screen was.

“Y-you didn’t happen to see anything weird on my screen, d-did you?” You ask, heart racing.

“Wouldn’t say weird. More like…intriguing.” He smirks.

“Oh, god.” You groan, head resting on the lab table.

“So is it true? You a virgin?” He asks with contained excitement.

“Yeah,” You whisper, raising your head once again to meet his darkening eyes. “Is it hard to believe?”

“A little,” He ogles you, eyes traveling up and down your body. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to be between those thighs?”

You’re sooo confused. Only a minute ago, you didn’t exist to him. Now he’s unashamedly flirting with you.

Steve brings a foot under your chair, sliding you a little closer to him. He leans in to whisper, his breath tickling your sensitive throat.

“You’ve never had that cherry popped?” His smile grew wider.

“I already said yes,” Your face heats up, cupping your cheeks to hide yourself. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“You shouldn’t be ashamed at all for being a virgin. It’s a really neat thing that you’re one.” He says softly.

“Why?”

He looks around the classroom making sure no one’s eavesdropping before he whispers, “Because it means I get to be the one who claims it,” He lowers his lips to your ears. “You want that, don’t you?”

You nod.

“I’ll need a verbal ‘yes’, princess.” He demands.

“Yes, I want you to take my virginity.” You breathe out.

“Good girl. I’ll text you when to come over tonight.” He says, rubbing a hand on your upper thigh before turning to pay attention to the lesson as if nothing had ever happened.

Tonight?! So soon?

You spend the rest of your day, butterflies in your stomach as you count down the hours until you’ll be getting dicked down by King Steve.

Six hours went to four hours and four went to three until finally the hour arrived. You followed the address he’d given you, recognizing it was some old cabin home. He’s standing outside waiting in a t-shirt and gray sweatpants that hang low. If you didn’t know any better you’d say he isn’t wearing any underwear, the outline of his rather large member is damning.

You take one good glance at yourself in the mirror happy with the casual yet sexy look you were going for before you exit your car. He walks up to you, throwing his hands around you and taking in your scent.

“You smell nice.” He says, hardness pressing against your belly and your eyes widen as you try not to pass out. Steve Harrington is hugging you!

“T-thank you. I-it’s my mom’s perfume,” You mentally facepalm. “I-I mean she bought it for me but it’s not like her signature scent or anything like that. That would be weird.”

He laughs, taking your hand in his. “You’re adorable.”

You feel him tug you away, guiding you towards the front entrance of the home and your stomach lurches.

“Is this your place?” You ask with a nervous laugh, trying and failing at not sounding judgmental.

“Nah, vacation home for my uncle who lives in New York,” He explains. “Don’t worry. We’re all alone. So scream all you want to, no one’ll hear you.”

You remember the rumor going around that Steve takes his lovers to this remote cabinet specifically for this reason. You swallow the hard lump in your throat as the door closes behind you.

There’s no going back.

“Could I have something to drink?” You ask trying to keep yourself from hyperventilating. “Alcohol, preferably.”

“I want your mind clear when I’m in those guts, babe,” He helps you over to the couch, encouraging you to sit as he makes his way to the kitchen. “I can get you some water, though.”

“Kay.” You say, fiddling with your skirt. It’s now or never. You needed to put on a brave face, you will not be missing out on this Greek god’s dick. You begin to pull off your sweater, struggling with it as you hear the sound of approaching footsteps.

“What are you doing there, angel?” He asks and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh, ya know…thought I’d take this off since it’s getting all nice and hot in here.”

“I agree,” He says suggestively, placing the cup on the coffee table to help you remove your sweater. Once it pops off, you stumble a little causing him to wrap an arm around your waist to balance you. “That better?”

“Mhm.” You reply, forcing yourself to look in his eyes.

He lowers his lips to yours and kisses you. You let out a surprised gasp against his lips before you follow his lead. You can tell you’re sloppy at it because when he shoves his tongue into your mouth it’s heavenly but when you do it, it’s all slobbery.

But even when you’re doing wrong, it feels so right because he’s moaning into it and as long as he’s doing that then you’ll consider it a win. His hands cradle your head, deepening the kiss. You can hardly breathe nor do you care to, clutching onto his shirt.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against your head. “I usually do foreplay but I wanna feel your tight little pussy squeezing around me so badly.”

That’s the second rumor you remembered about him. He usually says that very line to whoever he fucks. Only girl to ever have been treated to foreplay was his ex, Nancy. It hurts that you get a front row seat to the truth of the rumors. I guess that’s why they say never meet your heroes or, in this case, never have a one night stand with your crush.

“Can I please?” He pleads, hazel eyes big and wet as if it physically hurts not being inside you and judging by the way he jumps and throbs in his pants you’d say it’s a possibility.

“Yes, you can fuck me. Please fuck me.” You say, kissing him once more and he whines against your lips. He loves hearing how much you need him.

Laying you on your back onto the couch, he quickly removes your clothes off your body tossing your shirt, bra, and skirt to the floor but leaving you in just your white thong. He groans at the darkened wet patch, hooking his finger underneath to pull to the side.

“Look at that pretty pussy,” He praises. “You tellin’ me no one’s had the chance to see it let along be inside it.”

“Yeah, no one. Guess I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Fuuuck, baby, don’t talk like that or I might fill you up with my cum.” He says.

That’s another of those little rumors. He threatens to cum inside you. You should be revolted by this but you find yourself canting your hips upward in anticipation.

“You want me, babygirl? I’ll give it to you.” He pulls his sweatpants down just below his bent knees and a horse cock comes out springing and swinging.

You froze, mouth dropping. Oh hell no. You need to get out of here. The rumors do no justice at all to the sheer size of him. He’ll tear you apart!

Panic sets in as he hooks the back of your knees into the crook of his arms, positioning himself between your thick thighs.

“O-on second thought, I think I’ve found God and he tells me that maybe I shouldn’t…” You trail off when you feel his warm cock rubbing between your clothed folds. Oh, now he surely needs to be inside you. You’ll take the pain.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He asks and you whine in agreement. “Then, pull those panties to the side and let me in.”

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crassstitchbeetch · 3 months ago

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bee’s summer of stitching

ahoy! thank you for bearing with while i’ve been quiet here! i’ve been pretty busy. i’ve been using my stitching to unwind and calm down, and i’ve got through a bunch of work in the summer. here’s a rundown for your reading pleasure:

the only way to begin is by beginning | stitched by me on 18 ct | i LOVE gamechanger and i loved stitching this one!

ceasefire now! | stitched by me on 14 or 16 ct | good to spend time doing at the encampment. this pattern, as well as the other free palestine patterns, are freely available with an option to donate but honestly just donate to a gofundme

i've had ENOUGH aroace pattern | stitched by me on 18 ct | this took about a month to stitch and was really simple once the outline was done! this will look really cute on the wall near my aroace flag !

devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes | stitched by me on 18 ct | the pinks looked brighter than the pattern but i loved it! i’ve spend this summer working on my thesis so i’ve been drawn to simple designs and this was perfect. i also backstitched the font and border to make the project last longer (so i didn’t get hyperfixated on a new pattern)

the children yearn for the mines | stitched be me on 14(?) ct | i started this one earlier this year, but finished it this summer. got super close to the edge there but i’ve stolen @jennystudy’s technique of putting masking tape on the edges to prevent fraying, so it was all good!

take me back to the coconut tree | stitched by Pax on 18 ct | Pax is my flatmate and i got it into cross stitch over the summer. when i asked them for a review of the stitch, it said, “um… it was pretty fun. except for the bit where i didn’t have one colour because we went all the way to the craft store and i didn’t write it down so i didn’t get it. it was a good stitch.”

we all got a little barbie in us | stitched by me on 18 ct | like minecraft, i started this one a while ago (edit: a whole year! holy shit!) and came back to it later in the summer. this one is Lorge holy shit i did not expect it to be so big!

last, but not least:

under all conditions, i will persevere | stitched by me on 14 ct (grey) | i literally started this three days ago when the draft was already in my folder but i got through it q u i c k l y so i added it! this one is so cute, i’ve been wanting to stitch it since i designed it but never *quite* got round to it. this pattern is very special to me because of the damned stubbornness of dandelions and because they signal the end of winter, which is my least favourite season. i just love them

thus concludes the season of stitching i hope u enjoyed my silly little recap !!

#i am excited to put these all on my wall when i get round to it #i have done nothing summery this summer i have only done thesis and stitching so i have a lot to show for it #bee’s season of stitching #bee’s patterns #cross stitch pattern #cross stitch #bee’s patterns out of the hive

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nowimjustastranger · 1 month ago

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Just a little gift for my bestie Phoenix, aka @flame-cat, because they were in a car accident recently. But thankfully they're okay! This was actually inspired by an outline for an interaction between the brothers that they shared with me privately, so enjoy 1.5k words worth of stangst y'all!

Ford scrubbed a hand over his face with a frustrated groan, fingers knocking his glasses askew. He couldn’t afford to have his body fail him now, not when he had an exam to study for. But what he wanted didn’t change the fact that his eyes had started to outright refuse to focus on the words in the textbook five minutes ago, an annoyingly persistent migraine pulsing behind his eyes.

To make matters worse, the landline rang. The shrill sound made the bothersome migraine go from a mild three all the way up to a solid eight on his tolerance scale, which made his temper flare. Ford snatched the handset off the cradle with a growl, reluctantly bringing it to his ear.

“Stanford Pines.” He bit out, adjusting his glasses with his free hand so they sat on his nose properly. When his prickly greeting didn’t garner a response outside of what sounded like labored breathing, Ford scowled. Great, it was his mystery caller again. Just what he needed on top of an already stressful day.

“I refuse to keep entertaining these prank calls, so if you call again I’ll be notifying–” Ford began in a stern tone, but he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Stanford.”

Stanley. That was Stanley. Why was his brother calling him at –Ford stole a glance at the clock– two in the afternoon? What could he possibly want? Well, whatever it was, he wouldn’t be getting it from Ford. He had already given up so much because of Stanley’s selfishness, he wasn’t about to give him the opportunity to worm his way back into Ford’s life–

“…Sixer?” Stanley asked, a breathless quality to his voice that brought Ford’s anger back down to a simmer. Why did Stanley sound like that? His breathing was short like he wasn’t taking full breaths, but there was still a measured quality to each inhale and exhale like he was breathing that way on purpose.

“How did you get this number?” Ford asked bluntly, bracing his elbow on his desk before letting his forehead drop into the palm of his hand, resigning himself to having this unexpected yet long overdue conversation with his estranged brother. Maybe Stanley had realized the error of his ways and called to apologize? Yeah right, fat fucking chance of that.

“Ma passed it along.” Stanley grunted, his tone laced with pain, and Ford could certainly relate. He didn’t want to be talking to Stanley any more than Stanley wanted to talk to him, which begged the question: why exactly did Stanley call him?

“Of course she did.” Ford grumbled, suddenly feeling every hour of lost sleep hitting him all at once. He was exhausted. He was tired of trying to fend Ma and her mission to reconnect him with his brother off, tired of walking on eggshells during his monthly calls home just to avoid saying the wrong thing and causing unnecessary drama, and he was tired of putting up with the part of him that still cared about his brother.

“I… I think my ribs are broken.” Stanley said quietly and Ford’s brain shrieked to a standstill, his grip momentarily going slack on the handset as he tried to process the implications of such an ominous statement, forcing him to fumble with it until he managed to press the receiver back against his ear.

“What?” Ford barked, tone incredulous and concerned in equal measure. He resolutely ignored the way that his hands trembled, his grip white-knuckle tight on the handset.

"My ribs. I think–” Stan cut himself off as his breath hitched, a pained hiss following shortly after. Ford found himself leaning forward, blankly staring into the middle distance as he strained his ears to hear every little shift in Stanley’s breathing, trying to assess his brother’s current state. “Nevermind. Shit. Not important right now.”

“Not impor– You can’t be serious, Stanley!?” Ford seethed, lurching out of his chair, uncaring as it tipped back and crashed to the floor as he began to pace. He made sure to stay within the range that the cord allowed him, but he simply couldn’t sit still when Stanley was hurt and possibly even suffering from a head wound considering that he wasn’t making any fucking sense–

“I’m fine. It’s fine. I just…” Stanley spoke in starts and stops, his breathing strained as he spoke through what sounded like clenched teeth. “I need…”

“What? What do you need? What happened?” Ford prompted with urgency, fingers curling and uncurling anxiously. He had to know. He couldn’t estimate the severity of Stanley’s injuries without more data, right now he was left with what his imagination could produce. He needed facts in order to combat the increasingly horrible scenarios that his mind was dredging up.

“Car crash.” Stan said on an exhale and Ford nodded even though his brother wouldn’t be able to see it, pinching the bridge of his nose as his useless brain fixated on those two words.

“What else hurts? Or is it just your ribs?” Ford asked tersely, moving back to his desk with a determined stride to grab a piece of paper at random along with the pen that he had tucked behind his ear earlier. He scribbled down Stanley’s comment about his potentially busted ribs and then let the pen hover as he waited for Stanley’s –hopefully detailed– analysis of his person.

“I dunno… stomach hurts. Kinda swollen.” Stanley mumbled, sucking in a sharp breath as he presumably prodded at the area in question.

“Lightheadedness? Nausea?” Ford pressed, his heart lurching into his throat as several injuries came to mind, internal bleeding being the most likely explanation. Stanley had already displayed textbook signs of internal bleeding, such as disorientation and shortness of breath.

“Both? Feelin’ a bit sluggish too.” Stanley admitted, the muted rustle of clothes indicating that he had adjusted.

“Is the cord long enough for you to sit down?” Ford asked, looking up when the door opened and Fiddleford stepped into the room. Ford frantically waved him over, writing a message for Fiddleford in the notebook before sidestepping so he could read it when he hurried over.

“I think so? Lemme just…” Stanley huffed, Ford splitting his attention between the sound of Stanley gingerly lowering himself to the ground and Fiddleford’s rapidly paling face as the man read through Ford’s notes of Stanley’s wellbeing.

“Stanley? Stanley, are you there?” Ford prompted when there was nothing but harsh breathing for several seconds, sharing a look with an equally rattled Fiddleford.

“Yeah… yeah ‘m here.” Stanley panted, his speech slurred, and Fiddleford hurried from the room to contact emergency services with a different phone. As soon as Ford got a location, he would relay the address to Fiddleford and then stay on the line with Stanley for as long as he could before the call cut out.

“Where exactly is ‘here’, Stanley? Where are you?” Ford asked, rapidly tapping his pen on the notebook just to have something to do since he couldn’t get his hands on his brother like he desperately wanted. He hated feeling so useless.

“Uh… outside a 7/11.” Stanley said weakly, his voice barely a whisper.

“Which 7/11?” Ford demanded, his eyes narrowing. Either Stanley was losing consciousness, or he was losing his grip on lucidity. Neither were ideal considering the circumstances. Ford didn’t have enough information to confidently deduce how hurt his brother was. These could be Stanley’s last moments and Ford was wasting his breath giving him the third degree instead of saying anything of value–

“Um… I dunno.” Stanley said with the vocal equivalent of a shrug and Ford suddenly felt the inexplicable urge to scream.

“An address, Stanley.” Ford clarified in a clipped tone, impatiently tapping his foot as emotions built up in his esophagus, bubbling up despite his best efforts to stuff them back down into their vault. This could be his last opportunity to say something. Anything. Ford couldn’t squander this rare chance, couldn’t let Stanley fade away without knowing that his big brother lo–

“I dunno, s-somewhere in New Mexico, I guess.” Stanley murmured, sounding a little less strained but just as tired. Sitting down had eased some of the stress that his body was under then. Good.

“Just stay there, Stanley. You hear me? Don’t move.” Ford said sternly, speaking slowly and clearly so Stanley’s muddled brain could register the words and damn well heed them. Ford knew that Fiddleford could triangulate Stanley’s position using the phone call, but he wasn’t going anywhere until the call ended.

“M’kay.” Stanley agreed, his voice so quiet that Ford wouldn’t have caught it if his entire focus hadn’t been on his brother. Ford ran a hand through his hair, gripping it at the roots and tugging as he stared down at the notebook, bloodshot eyes roaming over his messily scrawled notes.

“I’ll meet you at the nearest ho–” Ford assured, unceremoniously cut off when the line abruptly went dead. “–spital.”

Fuck.

“God fucking damnit!” Ford snarled, slamming the handset onto the cradle with excessive force before turning on his heel to sprint out of the room and track down Fiddleford. Then Ford would take over the call with emergency services while his roommate used his skills to locate Stanley, sending an ambulance to him.

College could wait, Ford’s brother needed him.

#gravity falls #writing #ford pines #stan pines #fiddleford mcgucket #stan and ford #stan twins #tw: car accident #tw: injury

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crescencestudio · 7 months ago

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๋࣭⭑ Devlog #41 | 5.28.24 ๋࣭⭑

It's hot girl (/gender neutral) summer season

HAPPY MAY!!

Hope you're all doing well <3 We're already getting into summer, which is a little crazy to me. The year is flying by! Before I get into what we actually did this month, it wouldn't be a May devlog without our annual Mermay celebration!

Look at those locks. His Ariel/Rapunzel era fr

Since I already had updated Mermay pieces for the Alaris LIs, I decided to do one for our beloved Van this year ^^ Hope you all like it!

For writing this month, I spent a lot of it catching up on Etza edits. Being totally transparent, I wasn't Completely Happy with their route when their draft was finished. But now that I've started the editing process with Wudgey, I'm really excited to see how their route is shaping up!!! We've been fleshing a lot of little interactions out with their route, and I can already see Etza's character really starting to shine with these edits ^^

I've also been chipping away at Kuna'a's route! While it's nowhere near finished, I'm hopeful that this upcoming month will be the month of Kuna'a now that I don't have a bunch of releases I'm trying to balance. His route is also one of the ones whose outline is more fleshed out (Druk and Etza I would say were the least fleshed out, which might be why they also took a bit longer). So I'd love to see Kuna'a's first draft complete/almost complete by the next devlog!

This month, I had to dust off my art skills tbh LMFAOIJSDF. It's been.... a WHILE since I've made CGs since I've been in the writing and coding dungeon for so long. So most of this month's art updates are me getting tilted from redrawing an ugly sketch over and over.

I DID manage to get the Van Mermay piece out. And I also was able to sketch out Kayn's Tragic End CG; that leaves only one CG that has to be sketched out! Currently, six of their CGs are finished, two need to be rendered, and one needs to be drawn still.

And since Kayn's CGs are mostly done, I've started drawing Fenir's. I was actually able to finish one because I basically Locked In when I made it, so here is a sneak peek!

Kisses his little pink nose

You might notice there's not toooo many updates on this month's devlog. The reason for that is because this month, I spent a lot of it recovering both mentally and physically. April shenanigans and those back-to-back releases took a lot out of me, and after going full speed basically since this year started, I learned I REALLY needed a break. That coupled with the concussion I got made it so that most of this month was focused on recovering and then getting back into the groove of things.

Another thing I tried to focus on this month was finding a balance in my workflow. Going into this month, I felt like I was on the verge of a mental breakdown almost every day, in large part because I have a lot of big things I'm trying to accomplish this year. Between finishing my dissertation, Alaris, and a personal big event that I have to plan, I have a lot on my plate this year, and it's made it easy to get overwhelmed as the months pass by. So I wanted to find a balance between all three that didn't make me feel like I was also falling into insanity. After talking to beloved Wudgey of @herotome fame, I've started adopting a schedule that gives me enough structure and flexibility to feel like I'm making progress without going crazy and getting lost in the sauce.

While it's still early in the process, I'm really happy with the balance I've hit, and I'm feeling much more like myself now compared to a month ago!

I caught up on quite a few things in my backlog this month, which made me happy ^^ I always like to learn from and support other devs, so finally being able to return to that helped with the recovery process <3

I don't have any actual fanart pieces, but there are a couple of games I'd like to highlight!

First of all, of course I must talk about our hot girl (/gender neutral) summer cross-promo. If you haven't checked out these games, I can't recommend them enough!!

Links to each game can be found on the Alaris Game page under the magic and mystery otome section!

Specifically, Save the Villainess, The Good People, and Thorn for the Villain are amazing games if you're into thriller/political games layered with mystery

The Silent Kingdom (which I played recently and is AMAZING) and Dual Chroma (Otojam 2023 ALLY) have added mechanics of RPG for exciting action-adventure fantasy stories

Lost in Limbo, Obscura, and Snow White Ashes are BEAUTIFUL dark fantasy games. I've played all three of these and they have some of the most beautiful writing and visuals... BIG FAN OF ALL OF THEM.

Mask Beyond Lies and Sigh of the Abyss have that epic fantasy adventure appeal to them, in a way that I think is similar to Alaris! And Pearlglow Cafe (another Otojam 2023 ALLY) is a very lighthearted and charming game for those of you who like the comfy vibe that most of my stories have!!

Some other games that I played are Favor (@favorvn) by beloved @concreteparasite which is SOOOOO stylish. If you've played Binary Star Hero by Connie, you can expect that same stylish, dark, sultry vibe from Favor. If you haven't checked out either of those games by Connie, I can't recommend them enough, especially if you like yanderes. There is so much aesthetic and atmosphere to them!

I also played Where Winter Crows Go by @prikarin who is a VERY talented developer (and one I'm sure many are familiar with). I had a lot of fun romancing Crowe and both the MC and him have such strong personalities, it was so fun seeing their dynamic!!!! The CGs were also made by anta, who is the dev behind Thorn for the Villain, and they're BEAUTIFULLLLL. Each one has so much style and rly has a professional look to them. Can't recommend enough if you haven't played already ((heads up that it is another yandere game for those who can't do yandere!))

Okay I've yapped enough. If you've made it this far, you are god's strongest soldier LFMASLDIFJ. See you all next month with hopefully some exciting progress!

#devlog #alaris

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lovelyjuju · 25 days ago

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𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 - 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐦𝐚

gym crush!fuma x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: weird persistent guy at the gym?:(

word count: 2.2k

this one is for you @sudi109, my favorite fuma girly, ily <3

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

five, four, three, two, one.

you mentally counted down, thighs burning as you slowly got up from your squat with shaky legs. you carefully dropped the weight to the ground, grabbed your water bottle and chugged down what felt like half of it.

a glance at the big mirror revealed your visible exhaustion – pearls of sweat dripping down your neck, your chest rising and falling fast as you tried to catch your breath, and your cheeks visibly red from exertion. your legs were still shaking, but you hadn't reached your goal for the day yet – and you refused to go home without at least trying to do one last set.

so, with a deep breath in, you picked up the weight and positioned your legs to squat. once you felt stable, you slowly bent your knees. you did your reps, struggling a little, but not enough to give up.

at the last repition, you stayed down, counting down from eight and trying to ignore the intensifying burn in your lower body. your legs were starting to shake almost uncontrollably, but you were so close to reaching your goal.

you exhaled in relief as you counted "zero", but the brief pang of pride was quickly replaced by a hint of panic when your legs refused to move as you tried to stand.

that's when you suddenly felt the weight lift from your shoulders. at first, you thought you'd dropped it, but as you glanced at the mirror in front of you, you noticed a pair of legs behind you. without the weight holding you down, you shakily rose to your feet.

the legs belonged to a strong figure, and as you glanced up in the mirror, you recognized his familiar face.

oh god, no.

you'd seen him around the gym a lot – somehow he always worked out when you arrived and still wasn't done when you left a good two hours later. either, you coincidentally followed the same schedule, or he was just always at the gym. it was probably the latter, if his physique was anything to go by.

he was fit, his biceps flexing as he still held the weight he'd taken off of you just a few seconds ago. his compression shirt outlined his toned chest that softly rose and fell with his breathing and hinted just slightly at abs that were probably hidden underneath. a thin layer of sweat glowed on his face, causing his bangs to stick to his forehead.

you'd only seen him from afar – and admittedly he'd already looked handsome – but seeing him up close felt like switching a video from 140p to 2160p (seriously, how was it even possibly to look that good?)

"you okay?" his low yet soft voice interrupted your thoughts and snapped you back to reality.

suddenly, you felt hyperaware of yourself – your dishevelled looks, and the fact that you'd probably been staring at him through the mirror for god knows how long. a fresh wave of heat rose to your cheeks, and you were grateful your face had already been red before.

"yeah... thank you," you replied, forcing an awkward smile that went unnoticed by him as he crouched down to drop the weight.

he brushed off your words with a quick wave of his hand. "i just happened to walk by and you looked like you were struggling. i swear, i wasn't watching, i just wanted to go there," he rambled, pointing to a machine near where you were standing. your lips curled up a little at his almost desperate attempt to prove he wasn't a creep.

"oh, i don't like this one," you replied, "i could never figure out how to use it properly."

his brow furrowed slightly. "why don't you like... ask the staff?"

you stayed silent for a moment, suddenly feeling silly for wanting to say what had always seemed logical to you; you'd been coming to this gym for the past year, and by now, it felt like too much time had passed to be clueless about the machines and how they worked.

"i can show you," he spoke again, sensing you didn't want to answer, and not wanting to push you. "i mean–... if you want to."

even days later, you were still thinking about your little interaction with the guy who'd introduced himself as fuma just shortly before you'd parted ways again. he'd shown you how to use the machine, even let you use it first. he'd spotted you and had helped you to adjust your form – all while keeping enough space for you to feel comfortable enough and never touching you without asking at least twice.

you'd found out that he'd been going to the gym for one and a half years longer than you, and that the two of you, in fact, coincidentally shared the same schedule, which explained why you saw him every time you went there (although you hadn't told him you'd noticed).

anticipation started to bubble up in your stomach as you walked through the doors, eyes already scanning the training area subconsciously. you hadn’t planned on seeing him today, but just the idea of exchanging a quick “hello” was enough to make your stomach flutter slightly. as you made your way to your usual spot in the gym, your eyes fell on the place where you'd met him last time, and your heart did a little jump, though you quickly pushed it aside.

after your warm up, you went straight to the bench press, still in thought, until an unfamiliar voice broke through the thick fog in your mind with a smooth, almost too confident "hey."

you turned your head to see a guy you hadn't seen before approaching you, a smile on his face that seemed more rehearsed than friendly. his eyes skimmed over you, lingering a little longer than comfortable.

you instinctively took a step back, but he didn’t seem to notice – or maybe just didn’t care.

"those were some impressive push-ups," he continued, nodding toward the bench press where you’d just finished your set. "mind if i join you for a set?" his tone was casual, but had an unmistakable flirtous undertone to it that made you slightly uneasy.

you gave him a polite but firm smile. "thanks, but i’m good."

he didn’t take the hint. instead, he leaned in a little more, clearly not discouraged by your rejection. "come on, you sure? i could spot you. i mean, you’re looking..." his eyes scanned you again, "...strong, but i’m sure i could–"

"i said no, thanks," you interrupted, a little more firmly this time.

just when he opened his mouth, you felt an arm swinging carefully around your shoulder. "there you are," fuma's voice rang out, "i've been looking for you."

the warmth of his touch felt oddly comforting, even though he kept a tiny distance between your bodies, not pulling you any closer.

he raised an eyebrow at the guy who’d been standing a little too close for your liking.

"oh, who’s this, babe?" fuma asked, his tone a causual – just a little possessive on the nickname, as if you were his and that was the end of the story.

you blinked, completely thrown off by his sudden action and too stunned to reply. the other guy looked visibly deflated, his posture stiffening, although he tried to mask it with a forced laugh.

"uh... no one," he muttered, taking a quick step back. "guess i’ll see you around." he didn’t even wait for a response, turning on his heel and walking off without another word.

fuma watched him leave before he took his arm off your shoulder and turned back to you. "are you okay?" he asked, his voice a hint softer than before.

you blinked again, still processing what just happened. "you didn't have to," you said quietly.

fuma's eyebrows knitted together slightly. "he was making you uncomfortable, wasn't he?"

"he was being... persistent," you replied. "thank you. for saving my ass a second time," you added with a little smile, trying your best to shake off the lingering feeling of discomfort. "i owe you."

fuma chuckled, his gaze trailing to the bench press where you'd just worked out. "you don't owe me, but if you insist," he hesitated as if he was thinking what to say, "you can spot me for a set?"

he asked so gently, like he gave you every right to say no, but you nodded your head almost without hesitation.

he flashed you a quick, thankful smile before adding heavier weights to each side of the bar. as he lay down on the bench and adjusted himself, you moved a little closer, positioning yourself at the head of it.

he looked up at you, gave you another warm smile and reached for the weight. you helped him lift it from the holder and only let go of it once he nodded to signal you he was ready.

"i'll do eight," he informed, to which you just nodded. fuma took another breath before lowering the bar to his chest and pushing it up again in a swift motion that forced you to stop your eyes from widening slightly at how easily he handled the heavy weight.

his eyes focused on the ceiling above, his jaw slightly tighetened and his breathing balanced with his movements. after six push ups, he started to slow down a little, and you stepped a bit closer to make sure you could intervene in case he'd lose control of the bar.

"doing great, only two more," you said, your voice encouraging but quiet enough to not distract him.

his eyes flicked up to you and for a second the hint of a smile spread across his lips before he focused back on the weight, lowering and pushing it up a little slower but still steady for the seventh time.

"last one," you said as he started to lower the weight again. he kept it down a little longer, and when he looked at you, you almost panicked, wondering if you should help him. but he just flashed a quick smile again before pushing up the bar only to lower it again and push it up another time.

then, he put it back to the holder with a clang and exhaled in relief as the weight stopped pressing down on him.

"show-off," you said, which drew a light chuckle from him as he sat up on the bench and reached for this water bottle.

"thank you for spotting me," he said once he put the bottle back to the floor. his voice radiated genuine appreciation, but you couldn't ignore the tiny hint of uncertainty.

you smiled at him. "thank you for saving me... twice. we're even now?"

"well... technically not if you count that i also showed you how to use the other machine, but i guess i can let that slide," he replied, amusement in his vocie.

you let out a small chuckle that, for some reason, shot straight to fuma's gut, sending butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. he tried to ignore them, but they didn't die down.

just as you opened your mouth to ask if he was okay, he spoke up again.

"you know," he began, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly as he looked at the floor in front of him, "i kinda... when you said you owe me, i kinda wanted to ask you out for a coffee, but..." he hesitated as if searching the right words, "i didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

you blinked in surprise, just looking at him with a blank expression, too stunned to form a reply. fuma glanced up from the floor, his eyes falling on you and the unreadable look on your face.

"sorry, i shouldn't have said that. that was inappropriate, i–"

"wait," you interrupted, giving him another look he couldn't decipher and turning around to rush toward the reception desk.

fuma followed you with his eyes, his eyebrows etched together in confusion as you spoke with one of the staff members, grabbed a pencil from them, and rushed back to the bench, not without taking a tissue from the dispenser next to the sanitizer.

you scribbled your number on the tissue, folded it once and handed it to fuma, who still looked at you with confusion written all over his face.

"i'd love to grab a coffee with you, so if you change your mind again, text me," you said with a smile, "you know. just to make us even."

fuma took the piece of paper from you, the confusion still clear on his face as if he was unsure if you were being serious or not.

when your smile grew wider, he started to relax and mirrored the expression.

"just to make us even," he repeated, unaware that in reality, your heart was already running a marathon and you'd ask him for a million favors again if that meant to make it up to him by spendig even more time together <3

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httpknjoon · 9 months ago

Text

(re)starting over again | kth; 14

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 4.9K+

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader, hoseok x reader

note | *cue that tiktok sound* okay, guys. we're back. did you miss us? hi! I'm back with my monthly update 💀 I already outlined everything. there are six chapters left in this series (not including the drabbles). thank you so much for patiently staying around. i appreciate y'all a lot. let me know your thoughts, enjoy reading!

main masterlist | series masterlist

When did texting someone become so hard?

It has been exactly three days since Taehyung got to talk to you again. He offered to drive you home after your date failed to show up. You said yes. You two had a friendly conversation in his car. Like you were old friends, which you were. But were you? It’s complicated. For the first time in years, he heard your laugh and saw you smile just like in the photos he saw when cleaning up at your shared house. He remembered you waving at him with a soft smile on your lips before getting into your apartment building.

You also said you never changed your number and you would reach out. But he wants to update you about the small celebration the bakery will have later next week. He tried typing something but later erased it before he could even finish the first word. He doesn’t know what to type or how to begin a conversation. So he just typed a single character and hit the send button.

It was past six in the evening. You were already in your PJs after a long day at work. Treating yourself with dumplings and beef fried rice from the nearest Chinese restaurant in your area, you let yourself indulge while your favorite sitcom plays on your TV screen.

“You’re not easy-going, but you’re passionate, and that’s good. And when you get upset about the little things, I think that I’m pretty good about making you feel better about that. And that’s good too. So, they can say that you’re high maintenance, but it’s okay because I like…maintaining you.”

You found yourself pursing your lips when your favorite character said that line. It was one of the quotes that stays in the back of your head almost every time. You were about to reach for the remote control to play it back again. But your phone, which you set into silent mode an hour ago, vibrated. Your eyebrows shoot up as you read who sent you a message.

From Jung Hoseok

Hi, YN. I really regret missing our date last time. Would you be willing to give me another chance with a cup of coffee this Friday? I know a great cafe around the city 🙂

The day after he failed to show up at the restaurant, you woke up to a text message from Hoseok apologizing again. You reassured him that you understood and he promised to make it up to you. You didn’t really expect anything from that and thought that he would just pass by like your past dates that Martha set up. So seeing him reaching out again was unexpected.

You smiled as you typed a reply.

To Jung Hoseok

Will there be tea? I don’t drink coffee.

You see those three dots immediately popping in, indicating that he’s typing. So you quickly typed in a follow-up message.

To Jung Hoseok

Just kidding! I’m okay with Friday. Around 5 PM?

He was quick to reply,

From Jung Hoseok

Okay. Should I pick you up?

You thought you would just feel pressured if he picked you up at your home. So you just offered an alternative.

To Jung Hoseok

We can just meet there :) Just send me the cafe’s location.

From Jung Hoseok

[location pin]

To Jung Hoseok

Thank you! See you this Friday then.

From Jung Hoseok

See you, YN!

That’s a date for Friday, which is a few days from now. Even though he reached out again, you thought of keeping your expectations low. Because it helps avoid disappointment. You probably learned after your last dates with those guys you met before.

You continued playing the episode you were watching. Not even five minutes later, your phone vibrated again. You thought Hoseok forgot something. But immediately after reading the contact name, you froze staring at your screen.

From Aaa Love

👋

Of course, you quickly recognized who it was. Suddenly, you felt a sense of nostalgia in your head after seeing that name for a long time. Years after keeping this contact hidden on your list, you totally forgot that you never changed his contact name even after the accident. You cannot even remember when you hid his name in your list. Maybe it was one of those nights you were drunk with friends and made some decisions.

Before replying, you renamed the contact.

To Kim Taehyung

Hi, Tae 🙂

While waiting for his reply, you recalled that night. You remembered feeling good entering your apartment even though your date didn’t show up. When Jisoo asked you how it went through a video chat, you said that the date didn’t happen.

“Then, why do you look happy?” she asked that time.

That’s when you snapped out of your daze, “D-Do I?”

“Yeah, you’ve been smiling ever since we got on this call.”

“Oh…” your lips formed a thin line before speaking again. “I… I saw an old friend in the same restaurant.”

The last time you and Jisoo really talked about Taehyung was still the time she showed up unexpectedly after her wedding. You cried, she cried.

“Really? Who?”

“Taehyung.”

You wait for her reaction and you gradually see her eyes widen.

“What? What is he doing there? Did you talk?” she asked with surprise in her tone.

“Apparently, he’s doing some business here. And yes, we talked. He offered to drive me home.” you shared.

“And?”

“It was nice.”

Your simple and short answer had Jisoo simply staring at you through the screen. It was like she was studying you. You knew she had a lot to say in her head based on her quiet reaction. But then, she just said,

“Okay.”

From Kim Taehyung

Hello, YN. Just making sure I have the right number here haha

Taehyung finally replied. You let the episode play in the background as you tap on your screen,

To Kim Taehyung

I told you I didn’t change it!

From Kim Taehyung

I know, I’m sorry hehe

Just by the text, you can imagine him awkwardly laughing as he says that. Before you can reply, another text popped in.

From Kim Taehyung

Btw the celebration will be in the bakeshop. Next Saturday, 2 PM.

From Kim Taehyung

It’s a late lunch event with friends and family. We’re hoping you can come 😊

Reading that, a smile formed on your lips. With you working at school, you are usually free on weekends.

To Kim Taehyung

Will do!

“Can you put dinosaurs in it?”

“Of course, bud. Anything you like.”

Taehyung softly ruffled Jihoon’s hair, who remained focused on coloring his activity book. The little kid’s birthday is coming up soon and the preparations for it had begun. Since Jimin would be the one making the multi-layered birthday Jurassic-themed cake, Taehyung offered to make the cupcakes.

A couple of toys, specifically, dinosaurs, are all over the table that Jihoon and Taehyung occupy. And ever since he arrived at the shop this morning, the kid kept talking about his favorite animal. Being the best uncle that he is, Taehyung listens while being quietly amazed by how much Jihoon knows about dinosaurs.

“Ashley just sent a copy of the contract in our e-mail earlier. She wants us to review it first before finalizing.” Jimin spoke while placing an apple juice box on the table.

Jihoon scoots a little to accommodate his father sitting next to him. He stayed busy with his crayons.

“Have you read it?” Jimin asked.

Taehyung shakes his head, “I haven’t. I think I left my phone on silent while doing those lemon tarts.”

“Well, I think you should read it. They put something they probably forgot to mention before.” his friend noted.

His eyebrows draw together before reaching for his phone. Taehyung immediately clicked on the file sent to him from Ashley. He carefully read word by word written in the document. He thought everything was already mentioned in their online meeting days after he went to Incheon. Until he read one of the sections of the contract.

Staffing Arrangements

The bakery agrees to temporarily assign one of its capable bakers to work at the restaurant in Incheon for four weeks, beginning on the first day of offering the pastries on the menu of the restaurant. During this time, the assigned baker will head pastry production, equip training for restaurant staff, and guarantee regular quality control. The restaurant agrees to cover the entrusted baker's salary, expenses, and even housing if demanded.

After pausing for a few seconds, Taehyung scanned his eyes all over that part again. Just to make sure he understood it right. He looked back up to Jimin, who had his arms crossed over his chest while waiting for a reaction from him.

“So?”

“This means one of us had to stay here while the other had to manage around in Incheon.”

September is usually dry and warmer in Incheon.

After living in this part of the country for around two years now, you already got better at predicting the weather and climate. But today, your predictions were proven wrong when you had to stay under a waiting shed while the harsh raindrops poured continuously. You were too confident that you left your umbrella at home.

4:12 PM

You looked down at your phone. It has been almost thirty minutes since you stood in this shed, waiting for your usual bus to arrive. But you don’t know why there have only been two buses that passed by. You were unable to get on any of those since both were packed, considering the unexpected rainfall. You tried booking a cab but there’s nothing around your area at the moment. Your friend, Aileen already left earlier with her husband while Martha offered to drive you home but you live almost twenty minutes away from her. So, you kindly rejected her offer. Again, you were too confident that you would be able to ride the bus quickly.

Puffing your cheeks, you began dialing someone’s number. He answered after the second ring.

“Hey, Hoseok…” you greeted.

He was quick to reply, “Hi, are you on your way? I’m driving to the cafe.”

“Yeah, uhm, I’m kinda running late for our date tonight.” you chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of your head. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay. Everything alright?”

“Haha, yeah. Just waiting for a bus to stop by here the school. It’s raining like crazy today.” you mentioned.

“Yeah, it is… you know, I can pick you up if you want to.” he offered.

Your eyebrows lifted, “Really?”

“Of course, YN.”

“Okay, thank you so much!” you smiled, finally.

“No worries. I’m on my way.”

“Okay, take care,” you said before ending the call.

With your plans of getting ready pre-date at your home canceled, you sat on one of the benches in the shed and touched up yourself quickly. You reapplied your lipstick with your front camera as your mirror. You ran your hand through the stubborn flyaways of your hair before tying it into the easiest half-up, half-down hairstyle you know. You’re still in your usual work clothes, a statement T-shirt (with a friendly and maybe corny quote written on it and jeans. Originally, you would wear something cuter. But this one will do. Even though the cool breeze makes you wish you wore something warmer too.

And less than five minutes later, a black Audi stops right in front of the stop. Your legs bounced restlessly. The windows were tinted dark so you cannot really see who’s inside. But the door on the other side of the car opened and there, you recognized the man from the pictures on Martha’s phone. Almost like sunshine, his smile as he made his way to you made you smile too. Your fidgeting legs had already calmed down as he stopped in front of you.

“YN?” He asked since this was the first time you two really saw each other.

You nodded, “Hi. You’re Hoseok, right?”

Although you were at ease with his arrival, there was still an awkward tension between you two. But it tones down when you two chuckled.

“Yes, nice to meet you.” he smiled again. He quickly noticed you hugging yourself. “It’s cold. How about let’s get you inside?”

“Sounds good.” you agreed.

Joining him under his transparent umbrella, your shoulders brushed against each other, and you could feel his warmth beside you. He opened the car door for you while ensuring no raindrop would touch your skin. You mumbled a small ‘thank you’ when you finally got to sit inside. You watched as he made his way back to the driver’s side of the car.

“Are you okay? Everything’s fine?” he asked immediately.

“Yeah, thank you again for picking me up,” you replied.

“You’re welcome,” he replied before reaching for something from the backseat.

Your eyes widened when you saw what it was. It was like your eyes sparkled as he handed you the small bouquet of yellow tulips, tied with a matching gold ribbon.

“I’m really sorry for missing our date last time.” he apologized, watching you appreciate the flowers.

It has been so long since you received flowers. You cannot even remember when was the last time. So you cannot help but feel this funny feeling in your stomach while you look at the flowers. Especially since yellow tulips are your favorite.

“You didn’t have to. I understand why,” you spoke, tilting your head in his direction. Your voice was small and soft.

“Still, you waited for me alone in that restaurant. I cancelled last minute… Do you love it?”

“Of course, I love yellow tulips!” you exclaimed before taking in its subtle scent.

“I’m glad. I may or may not have asked Martha for help with those.” he chuckled.

Hoseok began driving while you find it more comfortable being around him. He has this infectious smile that brings more warmth in this rainy weather. It probably helps when he’s with patients.

“How long have you been waiting there?” he asked, starting up a conversation.

“Oh, you know, like half an hour.” you sneered at yourself. You hear him gasp. You chuckled, “To be fair, it is a rainy day. I can usually find a ride easily. I just didn’t expect that it would rain today.”

“It’s usually sunny at this time of the year,” he noted.

“It is. I was already waiting for the bus when the rain poured,” you told him.

“I thought you and Martha usually go home together?” he asked, looking from the road to you for a quick second.

“Sometimes. But I feel bad for making her drive past her house for like twenty minutes,” you revealed.

You tried offering to pay for her gas but she declined. Although she constantly assured you that it’s fine, you feel like an inconvenience, especially after a busy day at work. You are very aware it’s a you problem. But it’s just the way it is.

You shifted in your seat, “How about you? Did you have work today?”

He nods, “Ah, yes. I got off my shift earlier this day. Then went home to see my dog before dropping her off at my sister’s.”

“Oh, you have a dog?”

“Yeah, a senior dog but Mickey’s still the family’s baby.” he chuckled. “We take turns with her. Some days, she’s with me. Or my sister’s or my parents’.”

“So, you’re originally from here in Incheon?” you asked, curious when he mentioned his family.

He shakes his head, “No, we moved here when I was in high school. I left during college. Then, came back when I began working. I like staying close to my family. And you?”

“No, I moved here from Seoul two years ago.” you shared.

“And what about your family? They stayed there?” he asked.

“Nope, I’m an only child. My parents died years ago– Please, don’t say you’re sorry. It’s fine, it’s been so long.” you chuckled when you saw how his expression changed. “But I do have my Aunty Belle. She’s around the city too. She looked after me until I left to study in SNU.”

“You went to SNU too?” Hoseok exclaimed.

You beamed, “Yes– Wait, we’re here?”

He laughed, “Yeah.”

Distracted, you didn’t notice the car arriving in front of the cafe Hoseok talked about. He told you to wait for him, leaving the car with the umbrella. He opened the car door for you and helped you with the umbrella. He does the same thing when opening the cafe’s front door for you. And when a bell clangs when the door opens, you get reminded of your favorite bakeshop back in Seoul.

“I’ll be having iced americano and a slice of carrot cake. How ‘bout you?” Hoseok turned to you as you two stood in front of the staff.

“I’ll have green tea and banana muffins,” you answered.

After ordering, you two sat on one of the empty pearly white tables and chairs near the glass window while waiting. It was a well-lit place. It has a minimalist and clean aesthetic. Hoseok sat across you, tapping his fingers along to the music playing in the background.

“So, what made you agree to do this blind date?” you asked him.

“Well, I’ve been single for the last three months and I never really tried blind dating before so I said yes when Martha told me about you,” he answered.

“Well, I hope she said nice things.” you two chuckled.

“Don't worry, she did.” He assured you. “How about you?”

“Martha had been setting me up for blind dates these past few months because I’ve been single ever since I came here in Incheon. The last dates I went to were unsuccessful so she promised that this one was gonna be great. So I agreed for the last time.” you told him.

“And so far, how is this one going?” he asked cheekily.

You pretended to think for a second, humming as you rubbed your chin. He laughed.

“It’s going great. You get plus points for my favorite flowers.” you smiled.

“Even though I didn't show up last time?”

He seemed really apologetic about that. He brought it up again for the nth time even though you already told him countless times that it’s okay.

You puffed, “Hoseok, it's fine. I really do understand. I used to work at a hospital, things can get a little spontaneous. No worries about it.”

A staff member came with your orders. She carefully placed your drinks and food on your table. You can feel your shoulders relaxing as you feel the warmth of the tea on your tongue when you take a sip from the cup.

“How was it?”

You smiled, “Nice. Perfect for a rainy day. How did you find this place? I don't think I ever reached this part of the city.”

“This is the only open cafe I see whenever I get off from my shift very late at night. I love their coffee here.”

You nodded while taking a bite from the banana muffin you ordered. And you quickly recognized its difference from your usual banana muffin. You look at Hoseok who's enjoying his cake.

“How was it?” he asked, pointing his fork at your muffins.

“This feels a little dry and the texture’s a bit rough,” you whispered, not really wanting the nice lady at the cashier to hear you.

You don't want to be critical. But you just got used to having a soft and fluffy banana muffin or even bread with the right amount of sweetness in it.

He leaned a bit forward, mirroring you, “Really?”

“Yeah, seems like it had a lot of flour,” you added before offering him one of the muffins.

You watched him take a bite and chew on it. After gulping it down, you wait for his opinion.

“It is dry.” he nods before putting the muffin down. “You seem to know a lot about bread. Do you bake?”

No, but I know someone who put his heart out and is a perfectionist in baking.

Instead of saying that, you shake your head.

“Oh, no. But I do love a lot of bread and pastries. I just know friends who bake back in Seoul.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. We probably didn't get to discuss that in the meeting we had.”

Taehyung, along with Jimin, sat at the same table since that morning. Jihoon’s mom already picked him up earlier and the shop was already sold out by 5 PM so they closed early. Now, they are just having a call with Ashley about the contract.

“So, it means that based here on the contract, you want one of us to stay there in Incheon to oversee the pastries.” Jimin clarified.

“Yes, we just want to make sure that the quality of the products will be the same as what you have there in Seoul. Also, we thought that it might be better for our crew members to personally learn about it from the baker himself.” Ashley explained through the call set in loudspeaker mode.

Jimin looked at Taehyung who nods with that. This time, Taehyung has a question.

“You said that there would be a salary?”

“Yes. There would be a separate salary for the baker who will be staying here with us for four weeks. And since traveling from Seoul to Incheon can be a hassle, if you want to, we can also provide temporary accommodation with complete furniture. My husband runs a condominium business here so the accommodation would be on one of his buildings.”

Both of the men’s jaws dropped with that information. Their eyes were wide as they met each other's gaze. They definitely didn't expect that information from her. They were unaware of how rich she was. They just know that she runs a great restaurant in Incheon.

Jimin cleared his dry throat, “Okay, thank you for clarifying it. But we hope you can still wait before we sign the contract since me and my friend still have to talk about it.”

“Sure, of course. Just reach out to us whatever your decision is.”

“Thank you. Have a great night.”

As soon as Jimin ended the call, the two exchanged looks.

“So?” Taehyung began.

Jimin shakes his head, “I can't. Jihoon just began going to school. You know what my co-parenting arrangements with his mom are.”

Taehyung nods. After learning about Jihoon’s existence, Jimin wanted to make up for those years he missed. He was hands-on in everything that his son takes part in. He is also helping Jihoon’s mom in looking after him since she is currently working in a nine-to-five job.

“It's fine with me. I went on vacation there once. It's nice there. Plus, we can split the salary.” He commented.

And he didn't really have any obligations here in Seoul. Unlike his best friend. It would be easier and better if he went. Jimin can manage the shop while taking care of Jihoon. Taehyung is flexible in working everywhere.

“It would also be nice to stay in a new place.”

“No, but the living finances in Seoul are really more expensive than here.”

You don't sure how long has it been since you and Hoseok arrived here in the cafe. You already finished your tea while the ice on his drink has already melted. The only muffin left was half-eaten. The plate of his carrot cake was already on your after he let you finish it when he noticed that you liked it after giving you a taste.

“It is. That's also another reason why I came back here.” Hoseok exclaimed. “I can't stand living with another careless roommate again.”

You laughed when he referenced his bad roommate experience he told you earlier. Hoseok has been funny and nice ever since he picked you up today. He talked about Mickey, his life back in Seoul, and a little bit about his family.

“But you said you stayed in Seoul after graduating, right?” he recalled.

“Yes, I did.”

“How? Did you live alone?”

“At first, I became roommates with my best friend there, who’s also a nurse. That lasted for a couple of years... Then, I moved in with the guy I was dating at the time.” You told him.

“Like in his apartment?”

You shake your head, “We bought a house.”

His jaw dropped, “You bought a house? In Seoul?!”

“Yeah, we did some research and saved up for it starting from our first anniversary. Apparently, foreclosed properties are cheap there.” You shared it like a fact.

Taehyung was the first one to bring up the idea of living together a few weeks before your anniversary. After talking about it, you two did some research and went to a lot of open houses. Then, you found out about foreclosed properties. Taehyung and you looked in about four foreclosed houses before landing on the one you called home.

“What happened to the house after you broke up?” He asked.

You purse your lips, “He's living in it. But we agreed to talk about it soon.”

How soon is soon though?

“So it was a good breakup?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

The last sentence was almost a whisper by the end. You cleared your throat as if something was stuck in it. It was your turn to ask.

“How about you? How was your last relationship?”

Hoseok leaned back on his chair, crossing his arm over his chest, “It was great for the most part. We’ve been together for only one year. I actually proposed to her.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together, “Really? What happened?”

“We had a lot of misunderstandings in the last months of our relationship. It can be about everything. But mostly, she gets mad whenever I have an emergency in the hospital and I understand that. So one day, we harshly broke up during a fight before I left for work.”

“So it's a bad breakup?”

“Yeah, a bit bitter.” He sneered. “But at least I don't share any property with her.”

It was a teasing remark to lighten up the mood. You grimaced and rolled your eyes. He laughed.

“The lady was too kind to ask us to go,” you said as Hoseok drove.

The moment you and Hoseok realized that the rain had stopped and the sky was already dark, you two got up and left. Hoseok insisted on paying, even playfully threatening to throw your wallet away if you ever pulled it out of your pocket.

“I’m sure she doesn't mind. She gave us free cupcakes.” He replied, pointing to the box resting on your lap.

“Are you sure you don't want to take this?” you asked because he handed you the box as soon as the lady gave it.

“Yeah, just update me with your review about it. I'm interested to hear more about your thoughts.”

You bit your lip from hearing that, “Okay.”

After a few minutes of listening (and singing along) to songs that played in his stereo, you arrived in front of your building. Of course, Hoseok opened your door for you. He helped you with the bag you brought to school so you could carry the flowers and cupcakes.

“Should I help you to your apartment?” He asked while you slid your bag into your arm, struggling.

You gave up, letting him take your bag and the cupcakes, “Okay. Come in.”

You opened the door to your building and led the way to the stairs. He assured you that he was okay as you kept on looking back at him. And when you unlocked your apartment, you turned around.

"Do you want to go inside? Water, juice, or anything to drink?” You offered before putting the things on the counter near your door.

He smiled, “It's fine, I can't stay for too long. My next shift is at nine. I just want to make sure you'll make it to your door without dropping any of those.”

You looked down at your watch, “Oh my god. It’s already past eight. You should go! I should've taken a cab.”

“YN, it's okay! It's still early.” he chuckled. “Plus, I had a really great time talking with you.”

Your stomach flutters, looking at him. You noticed the same smile you saw earlier.

“I hope this isn't the last time we'll go out.”

You nodded, “Of course. Martha did it right this time.”

“How about next weekend? Sunday?” he asked.

“Sure, I’ll be back from Seoul by then.”

His eyebrows raised, “Really? I’m going to be in Seoul for a conference on Saturday. When are you coming there?”

“The same day! I’m going to visit some friends.”

“Maybe we can go there in Seoul together? So you don't have to commute.” He offered.

“That sounds good!” You agreed before looking down at your watch again. “But I think you should go now. I know you still have to do stuff before going to work.”

“Okay. Let's just talk about it later.”

“Okay. Thank you for the flowers and everything, Hoseok,” you state before leaning in to give a quick kiss on his cheek.

He smiles, “You're welcome, YN. Tonight was great.”

“Text me when you make it to the hospital. Drive safely! Good night.” You said as he walked back.

“Good night, YN.” He waved before walking down the stairs.

You closed the door to your apartment before leaning your back on it, looking at the yellow tulips on the counter.

What a lovely night.

taglist rules

RESTARTING OVER AGAIN TAGLIST [CLOSED]

@iamkookiesforyou @aianloveseven @hoodalmighty @taebangtanbabe @nooojaaam @hiimnothing @annenakamura @taebangtanbabe @shin-ie @prlan @starlight-night0 @teddybeartaetae @http-fayeradise @tannies-luv @betysotelo18 @honsoolgloss @aurorathi @paulaaa97 @satisfied18 @telepathytae @talkyoongitome @sofilsword @rengoku1missu

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @ficluvr613 @misshale21

#bts angst #bts x reader #bts series #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung au #taehyung series #bts amnesia #taehyung amnesia #bts established relationship au #taehyung established relationship #restarting over again kth

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sytoran · 2 years ago

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𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄 (𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍') ⌇ wanda maximoff

summary: in which 'rockin'' is a euphemism for sex.

☰ PAIRING: sub!wanda x dom!gn!reader

☰ TAGS: modern!au, married life, oral sex, cunnilingus, smut, wanda in that mean girls santa outfit, strap-on usage, humiliation kink, degradation kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, overstimulation, safewording

☰ RATING: 18+

masterlist

"honey, i'm home!" you call from the doorstep, recklessly flinging your winter coat onto the back of a chair.

it had been a long day at work, (retail work during the holiday season was a fucking bitch), and you were more than satisfied to go home to your wife.

so when you were greeted with nothing but a faint cry from upstairs from wanda, instant dread filled your bones, damning you to think of the worst possible scenario.

you dropped everything on hand and ran up the stairs three steps at a time, wondering what the hell had happened. did wanda hurt herself? was she crying? was she-

of all the million and one possibilities of imageries painted in your head, not a singular one could've even begun to fathom what wanda was doing.

no, nothing could have prepared you for this.

"baby…" your words trailed off, the sight of wanda sprawled on your bed rendering you speechless.

she was donning that mean girls christmas outfit, the crimson one with the insanely short skirt and low-cut top. the fur outlining the outrageously exposing cuts almost seemed to taunt you.

in further aggregation, wanda was trailing a hand up her leg, from the high-heeled boots that showed off her deliciously exposed thighs. the earlier whimper had been a result of the vibrator she had pressed up against her cunt.

to top it all off, like the cherry on icing, wanda spread her body in a way such that your eyes could feast on all her assets at once - especially her wet pink folds in your direct line of vision.

your jaw slackens. i'm in paradise.

you don't know what kind of miracle this is, that you've been blessed with the most breathtakingly divine woman to ever grace the earth, but you're certainly not complaining.

"daddy," wanda whispers in tone that is as honeyed as is sultry. wisps of red hair cling to her forehead, almost as if foreshadowing the what-ifs.

"merry christmas."

and then you pounce on wanda, quite literally, making her squeal.

your hands are everywhere, squeezing at her breasts and her ass, digging into the plush of her thighs and plucking at her nipples through the fabric. it's everything you could have ever wanted, and you're damn sure you aren't going to put this opportunity to waste.

"take - ah! - fuck, t-take - oh! - take it off," wanda gasps, nearly incoherent with how fucking rough you're being.

your hands are unashamedly explorative, and the redhead nearly comes undone with how fucking possesive you're being. you're pushing her into the bed but pulling her closer, until all she can feel are your hands on her skin.

"no, i wanna fuck you in that," you growl against her flushed skin. "wanna fill you up so bad."

wanda lets out a needy moan at your demandingness. your voice is hoarse, throat having run dry long ago. you finally bring yourself to pull back, but before wanda can complain, you've flipped her around.

her legs hit the floor with an unceremonious thud, high heels clacking against concrete tiling. using a hand to push her front against the bed, effectively bending her over, you groan in pleasure.

wanda is so perfectly spread out for you, so pliant and so submissive and so needy, and you're hungry. you could fucking devour her.

"are you packing, daddy?" wanda breathes out, turning to look at you with an innocent look.

wanda's question goes unanswered, because you've already unbuckled your pants, and the thick strawberry-red and quartz-white, candy cane coloured strap gets buried in her cunt from behind, before wanda could even register what was going on.

in the first thrust alone, the strap went hilt-deep, because of how wet wanda was. the scream she let out was earth-shattering, for she had already reached her climax, with help from the vibrator earlier.

"you're a fuckin' whore, mhm? couldn't even wait for daddy's instructions." you comment against the back of her ear, warm breath leaving goosebumps in its wake.

your eerie calmness scares wanda, in the most arousing way known to man. you're trailing your hands over her thighs. wanda's panting, trying to rock her hips back for you to stay inside.

with haste, you harshly slap her on the side of her bare thigh, reveling in the way her entire body shakes in that little santa outfit. wanda mewls, crying out in pain and pleasure.

you tug at her hair, so easy to pull, just because you can. forcing wanda to look at you, you say, "that's one."

wanda keens for your touch, visibly confused at your words.

you smile a mean smile, almost snake-like in the way it curves at the edges, the running a tongue over your lips in anticipation.

"how many days of christmas are there, baby?" you murmur, littering hickeys over the pale skin of her neck.

"t-twelve!" wanda gasps, a jolt of arousal flowing south when your tongue finds her pulse point.

"how many times am i gonna make you cum?" you question, barely over a whisper, hovering over her lithe body. she's so little in your hands, so easy to pin down, so easy to please.

you fuckin' like that.

wanda only manages to splutter, grasping at the fabric of your clothing in search of comfort once she realizes your ploy. "i- i can't, daddy. too much, it's too much-"

"mhm, but you can do it 'cause you're my good girl," you respond with ease, taking the opportunity to flip over her hand and place a chaste kiss on her knuckles. "and you're gonna count after each one."

wanda tries to argue again, but her body is saying otherwise. she's dripping down her thighs, slick coating her fluttering folds. almost as if on cue, she raises her ass up slightly higher.

you can only smirk in response, running both hands over the expanse of her thick thighs. "pretty little slut," you mutter, watching with a hawk-eye as her thighs clench with need.

"inside," wanda whimpers, trying to grasp for you, abd you quite nearly lose your goddamn mind.

with a vigour of all energies exerted, you begin thrusting into her like it's the last thing you'll ever do. with the added height of her high boots, it means that you don't need to bend your knees down to do it properly.

and it also means that you fuckin' pound into her however you like.

which is precisely what you're doing, as wanda's moans digress into screams. the way she's whining out the numbers each time she convulses and reaches her high is intoxicating.

two. three. four.

"so big," wanda whines with slurred words, drooling onto the pillow. "m' so full."

it only spurs you on to drive the girth of the candy-cane strap deeper inside her pussy. the way you're moving it in tight circles makes wanda think you're trying to ruin her insides.

"so tight and wet for me, doll," you grunt. "bet you'd let me fuck you 'til all our neighbours know, mhm? what're you gonna say to them when you can't move your legs?"

it's not like she would complain, anyway.

it's embarassing, how fucking wet she is, even after having cum four times. she's still soaked, drenching your strap and her thighs, dripping onto the floor.

but you couldn't give any less fucks, the only thing on your mind being the fact that you wanted to break her. ruin her, 'til she was unable to speak, to move, to think.

flipping wanda over again, you bask at the view you've been blessed with. ample breasts and smooth skin, all wrapped up in a little tiny santa outfit. she's laying on her back, almost bashful at how greedy your eyes are.

before wanda could even think to close her legs, you pried them even farther open with a cocky ease that sent another wave of slick down her thighs.

and then you were burying your head between her thighs, warm and wet sensations simulating her oversensitive cunt. all you had to was grunt about how fucking needy she was, and wanda was gone again.

five. six. seven.

dear god, wanda tasted better than any dessert you'd ever had.

you were insatiable, lapping and sucking like a demon starved of innocent souls. but your desires couldn't quell, not when wanda fucking maximoff was at your mercy.

the crescendo of your wife's screams of sweet sufferings had your head spinning. she was crying, the tears streaming each time you brought her over the edge. her wails of hot-white pleasure had you keening for more.

"you gonna cum again, doll? already?" you teased through heavy pants, sharp breaths for air brushing against wanda'a clit.

when you received no response, you probed her with a harsh slap on her ass, confirmative in forming a bruise.

that in itself had wanda streaking powder-white cream all over you, the world stuttering on its axis. "ei - ah, fuck - e-eight," wanda whined, words slurring with drool. even in that state, she was divine.

just as about you were to slam the strap into your wife again, she cried out her safeword, "vision!", with the remains of her stamina. you slipped out of that headspace almost instantly, moving up to comfort your wife.

the time stills for a moment. wanda's erratic breathing gradually steadies. you let your eyelids flutter shut.

"sorry, baby," you whisper into her ear, littering gentle kisses over her neck. "too much?"

wanda merely smiles at you through droopy lids. "you have a lot of stamina. maybe i need to go boxing with you and bucky."

a chortle escapes your lips as you nuzzle into wanda's chest like it's your personal pillow, basking in the feeling of the rise and fall. wanda sleepily reaches up to touch your hair, and she lets out a shaky sigh.

it's a picturesque scene, with intimacy so tender you want to frame this moment in time before it flees away like everything eventually does.

however, if loving paid a price, you'd go into debt for wanda maximoff.

---

"i can't feel my legs, detka," wanda says aloud after a while. "i have work tomorrow."

"oh. i would say sorry for what i did, but i'd be lying."

thanks for taking the time to read :) reblog if u enjoyed!

masterlist

#marvel women #gxg smut #wlw smut #wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #marvel smut #top reader #dom reader #wanda maximoff #bottom wanda maximoff #sub wanda #marvel #my works

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slayfics · 2 years ago

Note

This is rlly angsty. Sooo what about muichiro in his afterlife meeting the reader, and the reader is still upset that he left her despite promising to stay with her? Make it have a happy ending please. Thank you!

You meet Muichiro in the afterlife.

As everything started to fade, you realized you weren't scared. You had lived a long enough life with the people around you, and you were more than ready to be reunited with your friends that had passed before you.

You'd miss your friends that you were leaving behind dearly, but you knew you'd be reunited with them at some point. Now it was time to move on from this life.

Everything was dark, but only for a while. A light started to grow but a veil of mist made it hard to decipher where you were.

Slowly, a silhouette started to appear. At first, it was unrecognizable, until you made out the flowing hair of an unmistakable person from your past.

Muichiro looked as beautiful as ever as he made his way through the mist to greet you.

As happy as you were to see him again, you couldn't help the anger that began to boil in your stomach. Muichiro had been taken from you so many years ago. It was unfair you didn't get to live this life alongside him. Why did he have to leave you?

The anger boiled up until it spilled over. You found yourself yelling at the Hashira.

"How could you have left me?! I lived all those years without you! It was torturous existing without you!" you cried and shoved Muichiro with both hands. The Hashira's expression did not change. He looked at you with the same loving expression as when he had first appeared, standing calmly and accepting your assaults.

"I visited your grave every day, but it wasn't the same. I needed you with me, and you left me!" you cried, collapsing onto the endless floor.

Muichiro sat beside you and pulled you into a hug.

"You visited me every day to share a meal with me, and I enjoyed every bite. You could not see me, but I was there. You were never alone," he said as you softened in his embrace. "I know my early departure hurt you. I can not make up for that, but if you would have me, I waited for you to walk into the next life together." It was then you felt his tears hit the top of your head. Muichiro was crying too.

Shame washed over you at your harsh greeting to the Hashira. You didn't mean to be so rough.

"I'm so sorry Muichiro... I just missed you beyond what I can express. There isn't anyone else I'd want to walk into the next life with," you said, nuzzling your head into his embrace.

Muichiro placed his hand under your chin and pushed your head up into a kiss.

"First, there are some people I would like you to meet," Muichiro responded. You looked off into the mist and saw three outlines approaching, one of which looked identical to Muichiro.

We love angst here! Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy the fic! I have a few more thanks to give. Thank you to @plvuii for offering to proof read my writings. You’ve helped out this poor dyslexic writer more than you know! Please check her out she makes amazing fics of her own! A special thanks once again to @valartsstuff for allowing me to use her adorable artwork. Please check her out if you haven’t already, you’ll be doing yourself a favor hehe~

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ham-st4r · 2 years ago

Text

𝓦𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓟𝓽.2 - 𝓛. 𝓗𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰

Pairing: heeseung + female reader!

Warnings: cursing, alcohol, mature content, no smut, bold is texting, green text is sunoo.

Genre: fuck buddies-ish, toxic relationship. little bit of comedy.

Summary: After you promised yourself you’d never contact heeseung again, you stayed true to your word, but, all of a sudden, he’s showing up out of nowhere at your apartment, but why?

Number of words: 3k+ I’ll update Masterlist and word count tomorrow.

Trying something new with this story, so please bear with me here’s pt.2 of wasted time I hope you all enjoy.

Find your way around!

Pt.1 Pt.3

“Come over,” Heeseung texted you a couple of days after your last hook up.

It was nearing four in the morning, and he just couldn’t seem to fall asleep, so he texted you to come over. He knew if he had a quick little session with you, that’d be more than enough to make him sleepy.

He kept his messages open cause he knew you’d be replying as soon as you got his text. You always did.

Little did he know you were on the opposite end, chuckling dryly at the recent text he had sent to you.

If that was a few days ago, you would have already been out of the house to go take care of him, but you promised yourself you were done with him, and you weren’t going to take that promise back just so he could get his dick wet and his ego boosted.

He waited about a minute or so, but you still hadn’t replied. “Hmmm,” he hummed in thought, wondering what was taking you so long to reply after the first three minutes had passed.

“Are you awake?” He double-texted you, and still no reply.

“She must be asleep,” he said to himself and tossed his phone on the bed next to him.

He looked down at his length that was straining against the fabric of his boxers, and he let out a loud groan, out of all nights. Why did you have to be asleep? He needed to feel you so bad right now.

He placed his palm over his shaft, lightly stroking it the way you always did before you gave him head. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine that you were lying between his legs, tracing your skillful fingers over his cock. Still, that image was hard to achieve when there was a huge difference between the feeling of your delicate touch compared to his rough eager one. Still, he tried to cause. Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be coming over to see him tonight. “Y/n,” he whispered your name as he circled his tip over the fabric, and that’s when he realized it just wasn’t going to work out, and he felt utterly ridiculous after trying to emulate you. “Why is she asleep?” He whined and flailed in his bed like a baby.

He cut his temper tantrum short, and despite not hearing his phone go off, he still checked just in case you might have left a message, but there was none.

He sighed loudly and got out of bed, going to take a cold shower to get rid of his not-so-little problem down there.

Needless to say, he didn’t get much sleep that night.

Even though he had no luck last night, he knew you were always free on Saturday nights, so there wasn’t a chance you’d be asleep, especially when it was only ten.

“Come over,” he sent the same repetitive text to you. He dropped his phone on his bed and rid himself of his clothing, getting ready for you when you came over.

Five minutes later, and he was starting to get agitated. It’s not like you had friends or anything going on, so why were you acting like you didn’t want his dick all of a sudden.

An idea popped into his head. You always came over faster when he sent you pictures of himself, so he opened the camera in his phone and pulled down the waistband of his underwear, showing a little more than the base of his cock to tease you and make you want him even more.

He took another one squeezing the outline of his cock and showing the protruding veins through the boxers he had on. There’s no way you could resist him after seeing those.

He sent them and set his phone down to the side, just waiting for your arrival.

The club music was far too loud, and you were way too drunk to even pay attention to your buzzing phone on the table as you held your throbbing head in your hands.

You were out with your best friend Sunoo, enjoying the weekend while he was in town, and it was definitely the most fun you’ve had in a while, especially when you weren’t planning your day around that thing that called himself heeseung.

You both drank a little too much and danced way too hard, but you didn’t regret a single ounce of it.

Well, until right now when you felt like you were going to pass out any minute. “Your phone is b-buzzing like crazy,” sunoo yelled to you over the blasting music, and you just looked at him for a few seconds before dropping your head back down in your hands. You couldn’t even comprehend what he had just said to you.

He was a little less drunk than you, so he picked up your phone and checked the messages just in case it was an emergency, and he almost threw up when he saw what it was. “What are you doing with this in your phone?” He tsked when you didn’t bother looking up at him.

An evil yet hilarious idea popped into his head. He figured he might as well do it because he wouldn’t remember it in the morning anyway.

Ewww🤮😷 he giggled after he sent the text.

“What are you laughing at?” You mumbled.

“Oh, nothing,” you just groaned in response, hoping that the pounding in your head would go away so you could leave soon.

Heeseung snatched his phone up, unlocking it right away, and his brows creased together in confusion. It was a message from you, but it wasn’t your usual response, and it made him a little uncomfortable.

“???” He sent back and anxiously awaited your reply.

“Why does it look like that?🤭” sunoo smiled as he hit the send button.

“Like what?🥺”

“Idk, it looks tiny and squishy.🍤”

Heeseung couldn’t control the blush that crept up his neck. He was feeling thoroughly embarrassed right now, even though he didn’t show it to you.

“Cause you’re not here to make it hard 😐 stop playing games, y/n I know you like when it grows inside your mouth 😏”

Sunoo literally gave you a death glare. He didn’t know this was what you got up to in your free time. Well, it was none of his business anyway. “Get it, I guess.”

“What?” You replied groggily, but Sunoo ignored you. You would have fought him for not paying attention to you, but you didn’t even remember what you were supposed to be angry about in the first place.

“No, and why is it so veiny?” Sunoo covered the lower half of his face as he continued to giggle uncontrollably.

Heeseung was more than confused. He thought you liked it when it was veiny. You always seemed to enjoy licking them before giving him head.

“I thought you liked that😕 guess not” he quickly unsent all the pictures, and suddenly he was feeling all self-conscious and insecure about himself.

Sunoo literally laughed out loud when he saw the attachments had been unsent.

“Shut the fuck up,” you said to Sunoo cause his laughter was literally ringing in your ears. He patted your head softly, and you just laid back down.

“Just are you coming over or not?” Heeseung texted back after that conversation. He wasn’t even sure if he could face you right now.

Sunoo giggled, and by now, you had started to sober up a bit, so he dropped the act so you both could head home soon.

“Y/n can’t make it. She’s like totally wasted right now.”

Heeseung squinted his eyes at the screen, rereading it over and over again, and no matter how many times he read it, it still didn’t make any sense.

“What do you mean y/n can’t make it? You’re literally her.”

By now, he didn’t know what the fuck was going on. This whole conversation was the weirdest thing that’s ever happened between you two.

“Oh, fuck, I forgot to tell you I’m her friend, sunoo. She’s too drunk to talk right now, but I’ll let her know you texted after I take her home.”

Heeseung was absolutely mortified. He dropped his phone out of his hands in utter horror. He can’t believe someone else saw those pictures.

No wonder those texts didn’t seem like you. He should have known something was wrong as soon as he saw the stupid puke emoji.

On the bright side, that meant that you did like his dick when it was like that, but on the other side, this friend of yours literally just saw his dick not once but twice. “Fuck” he wiped his hands over his face.

But what friend? Sunoo definitely didn’t sound like a girl's name. When did you get a friend, especially a friend, that you’d pick over getting dicked down by him?

He shook his head slightly. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t even in the mood anymore, anyway.

Another week went by of you and Sunoo clubbing cause he decided to stay with you longer than just the weekend, and you were thankful to have some company after being alone for so long.

Heeseung was still helplessly texting you every day.

For some reason, over the last couple of days, he felt weird about not hearing from you or seeing you.

He had grown accustomed to seeing you often, and your absence was definitely getting to him.

He can’t count how many cold showers he had to take when you stood him up. It had been so long since you and him had sex that he felt like his dick was going to shrivel up if you didn’t come over and wet it for him.

He knew there was no way you could avoid him, so maybe something important came up, but what did you find that you thought was more important than pleasuring him? He wondered.

“You okay?” He texted just to make sure you were alright, but when you didn’t respond, it wasn’t surprising to him anymore.

He scrolled through your socials. Maybe there’d be something in there letting him know about your recent activities.

“Someone come over here and take care of me. I’m sick,” heeseung read the caption below a picture you had taken. It was of your lower body. You were lying down in bed with rolled-up tissue paper and a tv remote beside you.

He pouted slightly at the picture. No wonder you weren’t answering him. It was cause you didn’t feel well.

You had posted that picture a few hours ago, so hopefully, you’d still be awake once he arrived at your place.

He took a quick shower and changed into some comfortable clothing before grabbing his car keys and heading to the store to buy you some medicine.

He saw a cute vase of flowers that would look good at your bedside, but he decided to skip that cause your guys' relationship wasn’t like that.

To be honest, your guy’s relationship wasn’t one where he’d come over and take care of you when you were sick either, but over the weeks, he started to miss your presence, and for some reason, he just felt like he needed to see you it was confusing to him cause he never felt that way before he never felt like he missed you.

He went to the freezer aisle and grabbed some vanilla ice cream that always made his throat feel better when he was sick, so maybe it’d help you too. He grabbed some cough syrup the nighttime one, so you could sleep the cold away, and he also bought some pills for any types of aches or pains you might be having, and the last two items he bought were, of course, soup and lotion tissues cause the regular ones hurt.

He paid for everything and got back in his car, driving to your place. It wasn’t that far, but he went a little over the speed limit so he could get there faster with the medicine.

Once he made it there, he grabbed your bag of goodies and headed up to your apartment. He looked at the apartment number, and he remembered you were number one on the floor. He knocked softly and waited at the door patiently in case it took you a while to make it to the door. To his surprise, it flung open right away, and he stood there a bit stunned when he saw someone other than you answering your door.

“Hi!” Sunoo chirped.

“Hi?” Heeseung replied, confused, and looked at the number on the door, making sure that he had the right room, and sure enough, it was the right room but the wrong person. “My apologies. I think I have the wrong number.”

“Are you looking for someone in particular?” Sunoo smiled softly, hoping he could point the confused gentleman in the right direction.

“Umm.. y/n, I haven’t been here in a while. She must have moved. Sorry for disturbing you” heeseung was ready to take his leave, but Sunoo spoke up again.

“Moved? No, she’s still here, but she’s feeling unwell,” sunoo pouted.

“Well, could I see her?” Heeseung said, feeling a bit annoyed cause what the hell was this nerd doing alone with you at your apartment?

“Who exactly are you?” Sunoo eyed him suspiciously. It was kinda odd for this unknown man to be asking for you at this time of night.

“A friend we met a while ago,” sunoo hummed.

“How come she’s never told me about you” he squinted his eyes at the stranger.

“She’s never told me about you either,” heeseung glared at the shorter male in front of him.

“Name?”

“Heeseung,” he rolled his eyes.

Sunoo shut the door and went to your room. “There’s some guy says he’s friends with you, and his name is heeseung. Does that ring any bells?”

Your eyes widened in shock after hearing what sunoo had just said.

There’s no way you heard right. You had to be hallucinating.

“Y/n?” Sunoo called you, snapping you out of your daze, and that’s when you realized you weren’t hallucinating and that this was all too real.

“No, no, no!” You said, panicked. “Don’t let him in!”

Unfortunately, it was already too late heeseung had invited himself in and was standing in your doorframe, looking you dead in the eyes, and he didn’t seem all too happy to see you despite you being the main and only reason he was there in the first place. “I’m sorry, but you have to go” Sunoo tried to grab heeseung’s arm, but he didn’t budge.

“I-it’s fine, sunoo, we’ll only be a minute” sunoo gave you an are you sure look, and you nodded weakly. “What are you doing here?” You said coldly.

“Obviously, to see you,” he said just as coldly.

You scoffed as you folded your arms. “So obvious,” you rolled your eyes. The last time he came to your place to see you was at least five months ago.

He stood there and looked at you for a while, wondering where your attitude was coming from. You usually were excited when he came over. “Who is that?” He asked, referring to the guy that answered your door. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“None of your business, just what do you want?” You replied in annoyance.

He sighed. “I saw that you were sick, so I came over,” he stated as if this was something that he did regularly. He lifted up the bag in his hand, showing it to you.

“I didn’t ask you to,” you said without looking at him.

“Can I not come to see you for once?” He chuckled dryly.

It’s not that he couldn’t come to see you. You just didn’t understand why after you cut him out of your life, he was showing up to your apartment cause you were sick. What would he care? He never showed any ounce of care for you before.

“Well, I was coming to take care of you, but I see someone else already is” his tone was laced with annoyance as he poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

You were beyond upset with him right now. What right did he have to be annoyed that you had somebody that actually cared about you and was willing to take care of you?

“And? Heeseung, I don’t get it. I stopped answering your texts because I don’t want to see you anymore. You’re nothing but a selfish asshole, and just when I try to move on from you, you show up talking about taking care of me? What the fuck is wrong with you? You know that I fucking like you, and now you pull this shit. Are my feelings just a fucking game to you?” You said what you had been thinking for a while. You didn’t mean to lash out at him, but in your fit of disbelief and rage, you couldn’t help it.

“No!” He yelled. “But apparently, mine fucking are to you.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What are you even talking about?”

“I came over 'cause I fucking c- you know what, never mind seeing how I’m nothing but an asshole to you” he clenched his jaw and slammed the bag of groceries in your trash bin before slamming your bedroom door on his way out.

Sunoo was listening by the door the whole time, and he stumbled back when heeseung barged through and bumped him out of the way with his shoulder.

Heeseung walked out of your apartment, and he made sure to slam the front door as well.

“Y/n…” sunoo walked in to see you crying softly, and he immediately wrapped you up in his arms. “Are you okay?” You shook your head no and encircled his waist in a hug as you sobbed with your head resting on his chest. “I can beat him up if you want” sunoo smiled sadly as he stroked your head.

You shook your head again, and Sunoo took the hint that you didn’t want to talk about it right now.

Being the good friend that he is, he stayed with you until you eventually fell asleep, and you were so thankful that in a time like this, you had someone like him.

Heeseung left your apartment and went to the nearest convenience store to buy himself every type of alcohol known to man.

Once he got back in his car, he opened the first bottle of beer while he drove home, downing it in one go. One turned into many, and he was already on his sixth beer once he reached home.

He went straight to his bedroom and laid down. The beer wasn’t quite strong enough to dull the pain in his chest, so he opened a bottle of liquor, drinking it like it was water. He didn’t give a fuck about how he’d feel in the morning right now. He just wanted to forget. “You’re nothing but a selfish asshole,” he chuckled as he repeated the same exact words you said to him earlier.

Worst part is he knew it was true hell. You calling him an asshole was going easy. He was every bit of a fucking loser. He was a pathetic no, good excuse for a person that played around with your feelings just cause he could. He knew you were into him for more than just sex, and instead of reciprocating your feelings, he ignored them cause somehow it was amusing to have you running over to his aid whenever he wanted.

But after those first few days without you, reality hit him like a truck, and he realized just how much he took you for granted. He accepted that after all this time, he, too, had started to feel something for you, but he didn’t want to admit it because it was easier not to and he didn’t want to make things complicated.

But now it all made sense why he felt jealous when he found out you had a guy friend, why he was nervous whenever he texted you, and why he felt scared when you didn’t answer him.

It was because he was afraid of losing you. He couldn’t believe it only took a few days of not hearing from you to make him admit to himself that he was head over heels for you, but it did.

And when he was finally ready to face the fact that he missed you and not just sex, it was too late. You’d already given up on him and moved on.

But it was better this way. That sunoo guy looked nice. He protected you and took care of you when you were unwell, and that was more than heeseung ever even thought of doing for you in the time he’s known you for.

He knew you deserved better than him, and in his drunken stupor, he convinced himself that he was happy that you found better.

FIN

@heej43 if anyone wants to be tagged in future works just let me know.

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate each and every one of you who made it to the end. - 🐹

#heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung smut #enhypen #lee heeseung #smut

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heartbrkr · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Can I please request a haechan one where reader’s sick and he has to take care of them? it can be f2l or established relationship, any is fine :))) thank you!

REQUEST You're sick and you forget to tell Haechan. He has his ways of finding out.

PAIRING lee haechan x gender neutral!reader

GENRE established relationship, sick fic, fluff, very slight angst if you look closer

WORD COUNT 1k

AUTHOR’S NOTE sorry this took me a while! i was supposed to write.. like.. only 800 words, but i clearly got carried away. enjoy! (not proofread)

MASTERLIST

You’ve given up trying to balance the mucus in your nose by shifting from right to left over and over again. Lying on your back, you guess it’ll be better to clog your throat with snot instead of fishing around for a stray tissue used an hour ago. You’ll build a glob of slime at the back of your throat until you can spit it out in one go; blowing your nose every other minute has made your columella sensitive and red with irritation.

The sickness has reached the extent that checking your phone for a split second could burn a rectangular hole through your head. You had no idea it was even a flu and a fever before Seoyeon had stuck a thermometer under your tongue the other morning.

Two rapid knocks echo throughout your still, dim room. Speak— well, think— of the devil. “Y/N! It’s three. You haven’t left your room yet!” You let out a groan, followed by a cough, in response, knowing she won't hear. You still get annoyed that she doesn’t. With how stagnant your room is, you could vaguely hear your flatmate sigh on the other side, followed by a suit yourself and fading footsteps.

Barely thirty minutes pass before someone knocks on your door again; it’s gentler than the one from earlier. But they all sound the same to you and your throbbing head.

“Seoyeon, go away.” You croak through your rusty throat, mean-intent still evident. You roll over to unceremoniously spit into the strategically put trash can by your bedside and wipe any excess saliva with the closest napkin.

You assume the recipient of your words has gotten the message, but they invite themself inside anyway. “Oh, she wasn’t kidding when she said your room is stuffy.” A voice that belonged to a man spoke. Fear almost washed over you before you realized it was your boyfriend… that you accidentally ignored when your illness got worse. Shit. You feel yourself getting worse than a few minutes ago.

Haechan’s outline strides over to draw your curtains open and you hide under the duvet before a streak of sun can meet your body. The creaking of the windows opening is muted. With your temporarily weakened physique, you’re no match against Haechan’s sudden tug at the blanket you clung onto to cover yourself. “No! Haechan, give it back!”

He pauses for a moment, and you take the chance to pull it back up. Your victory is short lived, however. “I would, but you ghosted me, so no blanket for you!”

Now bare (you’re exaggerating; you still have your slightly sweaty pajamas on) to your partner’s sight, you pathetically put a pillow on your face so you don’t have to see his reaction. You mumble a halfhearted apology under it.

“I can’t hear you, babe. Let me see your pretty face please.”

“It isn’t when it’s covered in snot and sweat.” He can kind of hear the essence of what you said and frowns to himself.

“C’mon. I won’t make fun of you.”

It takes you some seconds to contemplate it, but you groggily try to sit up, one arm still holding the cushion to your face while the other supports your weight and balance. You’re startled when another pair of hands help you up and you hear Haechan chuckle. You whine. “You said you won’t laugh!”

He intentionally ignores your remark, going back to the topic at hand. “Why did I have to find out through your roommate that you were sick?”

The tension adds to the already stuffy environment you’ve built up the past few days. It’s suffocating, so you lower the pillow down to your lap. Your head hangs immediately and you catch Haechan through your peripheral vision standing on the right side of your bed, his arms crossed against his chest.

“It’s… I don't know. I’m also sensitive-er. Doesn’t taking care of your partner of barely six months sound too intimate?” You utter while looking down at the simple floral patterned pillowcase.

“Not necessarily. Though I do think that should be the last thing on your mind when you look like you’re dying.”

At that, you finally turn to look at him for the first time this week, and your boyfriend really doesn’t mind your unruly head of hair or fully flushed features. His face melts in fondness and worriedness. “There you are,” he looks a little sullen before continuing. You can tell he’s trying his best to lessen it. “Y’know, I was worried I did something wrong. Thought you were planning to peter out of this relationship or whatever.”

This revelation alarms you, your head starts to spin with how abruptly you shook your head. You lift a hand up to cover your eyes. In your best attempt, you respond weakly. “I would never! I really like you… I guess. If anything, I think you’d try to peter out on purpose first.” He takes a seat in front of you and puts a comforting hand on your thigh. “Hey, don’t be like that. We’re working on our problems together, remember?” You solemnly nod.

“Also, what do you mean, you guess you like me?! Say it like you mean it!”

You laugh at him heartily until it transitions to a fit of thick coughs, immediately looking the other way to avoid giving Haechan whatever sickness you have. He looks like he’s about to start tearing up with the way he’s snickering back. You push him and clear your throat before speaking again. “Thanks for coming. But you should leave.”

Immune to your straightforward wording, he ignores you and points at the new paper bags you failed to notice on your bedside. He stands to rummage through them to show you his haul. “Let's eat! I got us takeout. And more meds. I also refilled your water before coming in here.”

You shield your face away from the world once more to hide any hint of flusteredness caused by Haechan. He’s not having it, prying away your palms to give you a playful grin.

“Thank you, Haechan.”

“I love you, Y/N.” You hit yourself with a pillow again.

#nct #nct 127 #nct dream #haechan x reader #lee haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #lee donghyuck x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct dream x reader #nct imagines #haechan imagines

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hollandorks · 1 year ago

Text

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter two

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: I have like six chapters written and a rough (mental) outline of the next four or so, so I'm going to keep posting pretty frequently! I mostly want to get these first few posted to get a nice foundation going...and also because I'm greedy for the attention. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.5k

Her childhood bedroom was exactly as she had left it three years ago, free of dust, the linens on the bed so fresh she could still smell the detergent.

She threw herself onto the bed and finally let herself cry.

The funerals were a small, somber affair two days later.

Y/n’s mother’s only guests were her sponsor, a distant cousin she had been close with, and a neighbor. Dory’s guests included Bruce and Alfred, along with a few friends, her sister, and her niece and her family. Though the number of guests were few, y/n knew her grandmother was well loved.

As the sermon commenced, y/n found herself aching for just one more hug, one more story, one more smile.

And her mother…the grief for her was unexpected and sharp. She had been a bad mother, yes, but in recent years she’d made an effort. She got help for her addictions. Apologized. Sent the occasional card or letter. Took her own mother to appointments when y/n was too much of a coward to face Bruce.

She couldn’t stop the tears, but she hung on every word said over them in goodbye. She wanted to speak for them, to say her own goodbye, but she couldn’t bring herself to. It was too hard. The hardest thing she’d ever done.

And when Alfred stepped up to the podium, his kind words made her choke on emotion, her muffled sob echoing in the space despite her best efforts to smother it.

She half expected Bruce to comfort her, to try to make her laugh like he had when they were young. But he made sure Alfred sat between them, the space yawning wide like a chasm instead of the length of a single chair. When she glanced over at him, his eyes were on her, his hands bunched into tight fists on top of his knees.

Were those…bruises across his knuckles? She frowned even as he continued to watch her. Well, he had gone through a street racing phase when they were in high school. Maybe he was into boxing now. She had no way of knowing.

She met his eyes once more and her already broken heart broke a little more when he turned away without a word.

She ached for one more smile, one more hug, from Bruce as much as from her grandmother. It was another type of grief, but worse because she could get those things, if only their relationship was still alive. He was there, he was alive, but he was just as far away as the two people in the coffins before her were.

After the funerals and the reception at her grandmother’s church, y/n followed Alfred and Bruce out of the elevator at Wayne Tower. It felt as if she had aged ten years in the span of three days. Her steps were heavy as she trudged towards her room. Tomorrow, she thought tiredly, she would have to go through her grandmother’s things. Alfred told her that she didn’t have to, that everything could stay as it was–but she knew that she had infringed upon Bruce Wayne’s generosity for too long already.

In her own room again, she tried to go to sleep. It wasn’t late, but she was exhausted, and she wanted her brain to turn off for a little while. She didn’t want to think, to remember, to go over every single thing she would never get to do again with her grandmother. She didn’t want to think about Bruce’s gaze on her at the funeral, his hands in fists, his lips pressed tightly together.

She had lost everyone who loved her, except for Alfred.

The loneliness and the grief were sharp in her chest.

Hours later, she was still awake.

With a groan, she rolled over, defeated. It was nearly midnight.

She stood and changed into something more comfortable.

She needed to get out. Out of the place of so many memories, good and bad. Every moment in Wayne Tower was like being chased by ghosts. One moment, she saw herself and Bruce at eight years old, chasing each other up and down the stairs. In the next, she saw her grandmother teaching her how to properly carry a tray of tea to Mr. and Mrs. Wayne. In the next, she heard Bruce’s angry words echo off of the vaulted ceiling as he broke her heart.

Y/n shuddered as she walked towards the elevator that would take her down and out.

“Where are you going?” a gruff voice asked, nearly making her scream.

She whirled around. Bruce was half-hidden in the shadows.

“Out,” she said, feeling oddly like a teenager again. Dory and Alfred had caught her sneaking out many a night. Somehow, they’d never caught Bruce, but always caught her. She had that same guilty feeling now, spreading sticky fingers through her like a flush of heat.

Bruce stepped into the weak light from the lamp on the entry table. “Out where?”

“God, what are you, my father?” she asked with a roll of her eyes. “Just out, Bruce.”

“In Gotham?” he asked, incredulity coloring his tone. His dark eyebrows disappeared into the lengths of his hair. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Never stopped me before,” she said with a shrug. She missed him so much she relished each word he gave her, even if they were a reprimand. She needed to leave before she got stuck in an argument with him–or worse, cried. “See you later.”

She hit the button for the elevator and startled all over again when Bruce grabbed her wrist. She hadn’t heard him close the distance between them. How could someone so tall and broad move so silently, she wondered. And then she realized that he was touching her bare skin, and electricity crackled up her arm.

She wanted to lean into him. God, she missed him.

But then he ruined the moment. “No. It’s too dangerous, y/n.”

Anger rose within her, wild and unstoppable and full of thorns. She bristled at it. “I don’t care.” She yanked her arm away and stepped into the now-open elevator. Even three years away couldn’t tamper the hurt she still felt. It was as fresh at it had been the day he’d ripped out her heart. “I can’t stand to be in this place another second.”

He took a step forward too, blue eyes blazing. “Let me at least–”

“You’ve done enough,” she snapped. The words seemed to stun him into stillness. Which worked for her, because then the doors slid closed, and she was whisked down and away, just like she wanted.

She slumped against the far wall of the elevator, suddenly tired again. She wondered if Bruce was watching her on the security camera she knew was in the upper left corner. She knew he was trying to look out for her–he always had, even as kids when he was much smaller and scrawnier than her–and she had thrown it back in his face. But she was so damn tired. Tired of pretending like she wasn’t hurting. Of pretending like she could look him in the eyes without remembering how much she loved him. Of pretending like things might ever be able to go back to the way they used to be. Of pretending like she wasn’t fucking lonely.

Cold air assaulted her as she stepped outside of the tower. The security guard had barely given her a second glance. She was an adult now and not technically sneaking out, so he didn’t care what she did.

It smelled like it had rained recently or would rain again soon.

She inhaled deeply. Something in her settled. Gotham might stink like any other city but it was a familiar kind of stink. Almost comforting. And the damp smell underneath it was another comfort, one Bludhaven didn’t have to offer with its drier climate.

Y/n turned and walked off with no direction in mind. Maybe she’d stop by the diner on the corner three blocks away. She and Bruce had eaten many a late night meal there. She hadn’t had dinner, either, and was suddenly ravenous. Had she eaten lunch? She couldn’t remember eating anything before leaving for the funerals.

She made sure to keep aware of her surroundings because, as much as she hated to admit it, Bruce was right. Gotham was dangerous. It always had been. It didn’t matter that there was some freak in a bat costume running around, either. He could only do so much. And it didn’t matter that a lot of the corruption had been rooted out by that serial killer, Edward Nashton, the man called the Riddler. Gotham had a way of turning even the best of people into something rotten. It was only a matter of time before another guy in a costume showed up or another mayor turned bad.

Y/n’s mind turned to the bat guy as she scanned the shadows around her. Maybe she’d get lucky, catch a glimpse. She had read a lot of op-ed articles over the past three years while he’d been active. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. She had to admit, he was doing good for the city. One article in particular came to mind–an interview with Lieutenant James Gordon at the GCPD. He apparently worked with the Batman often and they had caught the Riddler together.

One line in particular stood out to her. Those days, in a city where I wasn’t sure who to trust on my own team, I trusted him.

And somehow, this Lieutenant Gordon had avoided being a target of the Riddler, which had to count for something. Because as psycho as he was, Nashton had targeted the corrupt. Well, except for Bruce Wayne. She still couldn’t forgive him for trying to blow up Bruce and almost succeeding with Alfred.

She slipped into the diner, busy despite the late hour, her mind still swirling with thoughts of serial killers and vigilantes and cops.

She took the last free booth in the corner, the cold night air following her inside. An old jazz song hummed in the background and the air smelled like bacon and burnt toast. Her stomach announced its emptiness again, loudly.

She was still thinking of the vigilante as she placed her order with an older waitress with hair the color of wine.

What was to stop the Batman from becoming like the Riddler? They both had taken justice into their own hands and only one was in prison. The Batman hadn’t killed anyone….that they knew of. So why did the city laud him and crucify the other?

Although, she thought as she dug into her stack of chocolate chip pancakes, there had been protests and riots in regards to the Riddler. Enough people had believed in him that a group of them had tried to shoot up Gotham Square Garden in the floods.

Her head was pounding now. The part of her brain that made her a good reporter was latching on to the idea of vigilantes and the line between good and bad. She wanted to write an op-ed article herself, but her thoughts on the matter weren’t original in the slightest.

Maybe, while she was in the city, she’d run into the vigilante and ask for an interview. In a city of criminals like Gotham, the chances were relatively high of seeing the vigilante at least once.

She snorted quietly to herself. That was an unoriginal thought if there ever was one. She would bet money that any reporter worth their salt had tried and failed to interview the Batman. Which probably had involved at least a few getting into trouble on purpose. And still, nothing on his identity. Hell, even his friend Lieutenant Gordon was pretty tight lipped about him, despite telling the world how much he trusted the vigilante.

“Hey,” she asked her waitress as she brought the receipt over. The cracked vinyl seat creaked as she leaned forward. “Ever seen that Batman guy? I’m from out of town, so…” She shrugged, gave a coy smile.

It was technically the truth. She’d been gone for three years, and in that short amount of time, Gotham had birthed all kinds of crazies, including the Batman and the Riddler. It was a running joke in Bludhaven, who only had “normal” criminals.

The waitress shrugged. “I haven’t ever seen him, no. But it makes me feel better working so late, knowing he’s out there.” She inserted y/n’s card into a handheld credit card machine.

Y/n nodded and chewed her lip. “How do you know he’s on your side, though? That Riddler guy last year did alright, up until the flooding and the shooting.”

The waitress’s expression soured. “Batman’s never killed anyone, good or bad. Ever since he became…you know, a vigilante…he never killed anyone. Ask around and you’ll eventually find someone he saved from a mugging or an armed robbery. Or, more likely, someone he helped when all the higher ups left us to fend for ourselves in the floodwaters.”

“Wow,” y/n said after a moment. The waitress had…fierce opinions about the vigilante. “I didn’t realize he was so…loved.”

The woman shrugged again. She handed the card and receipt over. “I’m just saying, he looks out for the little guy.”

Y/n absently tapped her bank card on the table. “Well, that’s good to know. Maybe I’ll see him out there, yeah?” She laughed lightly.

“Probably better than you don’t, because then that means he’s saving you from something.” The waitress winked and went to another of her tables.

Y/n was really itching to write an article now. Wouldn't it be great if she were the one to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding the Batman? Maybe her editor would loan her out to the Gotham Tribune or another newspaper for a special assignment.

She scoffed quietly as she got up to leave. They would simply tell her the truth–there wasn’t anything special enough about her to be the one to succeed where so many others had failed. The only special thing about her was that she had been raised alongside a billionaire. A billionaire who didn’t even want to be her friend anymore.

As she stepped out of the diner, she turned left instead of right. Right would have led her to Wayne Tower, and she definitely wasn’t ready to go back. Talking to the waitress about the vigilante had lit an all too familiar fire within her. The kind of fire that usually burned her, but always led to a hell of a good story by the end.

The kind of fire that made her do stupid things, like stop when she heard a muffled sound from the end of an alley.

The kind of fire that made her sneak forward, into the shadows, to see several men huddled over two other figures.

The two on the ground were both hooded and bound with hands behind their backs. But one was slumped over while one was still on their knees.

And that same fire gave y/n her first burn as she took out her phone and started recording.

There was another muffled sound and she finally placed exactly what it was as the second hooded figure slumped against the first. It was a gun–a gun with a silencer. When she realized, she made her next mistake.

She gasped.

And every head–four of them, all men–turned to look at her.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @slovakshadow

#the batman x reader #battinson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #the batman 2022 #the batman #battinson #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x y/n #battinson x y/n

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starhvney · 8 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝟑 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟓.𝟓: 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐖: none? zane's a butt but we knew that already.

𝐀/𝐍: kinda short compared to the other chapters but we love the ro'meaves so i had to include this episode :)

𝐖𝐂: 3,700 +

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑: @arienic

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒

“holy crap, that’s their house?!” you exclaim, leaning forward as your wide eyes ogle at the house—no, mansion—that the car is pulling into the driveway of.

“oh yeah.” sylvanna looks back at you, her eyebrows waggling. “garte owns a really successful business, the ro’meave corporation. he’s in retail and the landowning industry, and business really started booming for him a couple of years ago. you didn’t know?”

you shake your head, tearing your eyes away from the stunning tall trees, huge front yard, and the beautiful brick house to sylvanna. her beautiful teal dress hugged her perfectly, and the gold she used to accessorize perfectly complemented her skin. she leans back towards you, whispering in your ear with a mischievous grin.

“you should marry one of the boys one day and then you can live in a mansion,” she giggles, before leaning away with a wink and sticking out her tongue to show you she was just joking. “just kidding. you’re not allowed to date until you’re thirty, either.”

you laugh, feeling your cheeks burn a bit as you shake your head. aphmau narrows her eyes at the two of you suspiciously before stepping out of the car, with the two of you following behind. the home was colonial style, with black shutters and vines growing up the front.

you glance back at your friend, who is drooling equally as hard as she takes in the scenery.

“what a humble little place.” you shrug haughtily, earning a wary warning glance back from your mom.

aphmau’s eyes are still wide when she shakes her head in disbelief.

“they gave off rich vibes but i didn’t expect this.”

“at least they’re humble?”

zianna greets you all at the door, wearing a beautiful coral dress, a dainty gold wristwatch, and matching gold jewelry. her hair is styled into a beautiful curl blowout, and her green eyes are outlined by dark lashes and elegant eyeliner.

you can see where the boys got their looks from, noticing a similar pout in the full lips and the long thick lashes in the woman before you. you’re starting to wonder what the dad looked like.

“ahh! i’m so glad you guys could make it!” she excitedly ushers you in, your feet landing on beautiful dark polished hardwood floors.

your eyes look around at the tall ceilings and rounded archways into separate rooms, the closest one looking like what was probably the living room. your eyes trail up the large staircase in front of you, landing on garroth who had come down to greet you.

he wore navy blue slacks and a nice button-up shirt, rolled up to his elbows along with the unbuttoned navy blazer he paired with it.

you’re glad you wore a pretty dress, now.

“don’t you two just look gorgeous!” your vision is covered by zianna, who smells like rich perfume as she admires you. “don’t you think, gar-gar?”

he makes it to the bottom of the flight, smiling at everyone.

“yes, they’re all gorgeous.”

“if you two wanted to marry one of my boys i’d totally let you!” garroth’s ears turn red at his mom’s words, and he steps over to greet your dad with a solid handshake.

“then we’d all be related!” mom and sylvanna squeal along with her, before beginning to shuffle their way into the kitchen to finish dinner.

“gar-gar, why don’t you give the girls a house tour while us moms have our girl talk in the kitchen?”

you turn to notice your dad already walked off somewhere, probably to find garroth’s dad?

“yes ma’am.” garroth sighs, before turning to you and aph. “at least with a house tour we won’t have to listen to the three of them.”

aphmau sighs. “yeah, seriously.”

garroth turns back to where he came, gesturing at the staircase as he strides up to them.

“here’s the stairs—“

“wow!” you and aphmau drawl out in unison, sarcastic wonder on your faces as you both applaud him.

he slowly turns to the two of you with a smile, the corners of his mouth downturned in embarrassment.

“shut up…” he giggles, before trekking up the steps.

you two follow behind in a fit of giggles, following behind your blonde tour guide. he turns to the first door in the long, wide hallway at the top of the stairs.

“this is zane’s room.” he turns the doorknob before using his foot to kick the door the rest of the way open. “hey baby brother!”

zane tumbles off of his chair in surprise, a loud yelp coming from his lips.

“garroth!” he yells in annoyance. “can’t you see i’m in the middle of something?!”

you peek in the room. the walls were darkly painted and the furniture was a dark—almost black wood. shelves were lined with collectibles from video games and shows, some that you were familiar with, some not. across from his bed was a large tv, and next to it a desk with a gaming pc. the small avatar on the computer screen begins taking damage, to which zane groans, scrambling for his mouse and keyboard to fight the monster off.

“why don’t you come downstairs and pause the game?” garroth quips back, staring unimpressed at the screen.

“it. can’t. be. paused.” he slowly turns his head towards the three of you, freckled face crinkled in irritation. “i’m in the middle of a dungeon. get out! i’ll come down when i want to!”

garroth holds his hands up in surrender, backing up out of the room and closing the door behind him. he turns back to you and aphmau sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

“sorry about him. he’s, uh… well, he really likes to isolate himself.”

you shrug, lips pressed in a thin smile. aphmau shrugs too, mentioning how zane was at least right about not being able to pause mmo games.

“ah, well i wouldn’t really know about that. i’m not into games as much as he is—i usually only ever play console games.”

“what do you play?” you ask, hoping your tone wasn’t too eager as you follow him down the hall towards another room.

“oh, well i think legend of zelda is fun—“ he interrupts himself by entering the door of another room. “hey, vylad.”

vylad sighs, glancing over from his bed as he sits perfectly straight, legs crossed and breathing evenly.

“you really have a problem with knocking, garroth.” he breathes in before exhaling, glancing over at you girls behind the intruder. “hey.”

“sorry baby brother.” garroth steps in further as vylad gives up on whatever meditating he was in the middle of, getting up and looking around his room.

the walls were a calming shade of forest green, quite similar to the boy’s eyes. a lot of his decorations were made of what looked like raw birch, continuing the natural theme. the only lighting in the room was the sunlight shining through the windows and a few candles that had been lit. they gave off a refreshing scent, making the whole room cozy and relaxing.

“i love your room, it’s so calm…” you compliment, trying not to look too amazed at how soft and comfortable his bed looked, as it was covered in the fluffiest duvet and pillows you’ve ever seen.

“thanks!” he grins.

now that you look at him, he really did look way more like his mom than his brothers. he wore some dark brown slacks with a loose linen shirt, looking like a young academic ready to teach his own class.

“i’m giving them a tour, wanna come along?” garroth asks, fiddling with a rubik’s cube from vylad’s dresser.

vylad stretches and shrugs, blowing out his candles and following the three of you to the door.

“well since i was so kindly interrupted in my meditation, why not?”

garroth sheepishly chuckles, making his way to the room directly across from vylad’s. “i said sorry…”

“you know, when you’re older if you don’t break this opening-doors-without-knocking habit it’ll turn into actually breaking down doors a habit in the future.”

“okay, that’s a bit exaggerated” he shakes his head. “i’m kinda strong, but not enough to break down a door with one push. besides, that’s just plain rude.”

“if you trained you could, i could see you being a firefighter. they do that, right?” you offhandedly note, stepping into what you now assume to be garroth’s room.

the walls are a muted shade of blue, reminding you of a color you’d see in a beach condo, complemented by ivory shades of white on his bed and some hints of yellow throughout the rest of his furniture. it was pretty clean and put together, aside from a pile in the corner that had sports jerseys and equipment spilling from a gym bag.

there were a few posters up, some from different song artists and bands, others of some console games—one of which being for legend of zelda. one wall also hung some high-placing medals and ribbons.

“oh? are these all your baseball achievements?”

“yeah… not to brag, i'm also the star player, so…”

“wow, gloating much?” aphmau laughs.

“i mean i would,” you admit, leaning in to look at a team photo on the wall. “captain and star player as a sophomore? i’d be telling everyone.”

garroth’s feet tumble behind you before the picture is covered by his larger hand. he ruffles his hair over the tops of his ears, clearing his throat and turning you around to the rest of his room.

“uh, so how do you like the rest of my room?”

you stifle a giggle, nodding and glancing around.

“it’s nice.”

“great!” his hands land firmly on your shoulders, ushering you and everyone else back out of his room and towards the staircase again.

zane emerges from his room, narrowing his eyes at the four of you as you pass. you finally see his outfit: simple black slacks and a black button-up. he uses his ringed fingers to briefly fluff up his hair, revealing his right eye. for the short time you see it, you notice the pupil was slightly clouded over, and a light scar ran from his eyelid to his brow.

“hey, baby brother.” garroth passes him, and zane’s annoyed expression deepens.

his other eye seems fine, but you slow next to him to double check.

“hi! you better from earlier?”

“obviously i am.” he scowls back, looking entirely unimpressed with you.

“oh.” your smile drops, the short laugh that leaves your lips sounding awkward. “i was just wondering…”

you nearly run into garroth’s back, looking up to see him sending an annoyed glare back at zane.

“zane, that wasn’t nice.”

“she was just asking. if you don’t like her just ignore her like you do to me,” vylad interjects, voice much calmer and even than the older two. “besides, don’t you have any good memories of her? she’s always been nice to you.”

“no, i don’t remember. and i prefer for it to stay that way.”

“zane,” garroth grits.

you send an uncomfortable glance over at aphmau, whose lips are tightly pressed together—unsure and awkward.

“what? mad i offended your little girlfriend? not my fault you—“

“zane, shut your—“

“you know,” aphmau suddenly interjects, cutting the two of them off. “i remember you being a big cry baby when we were younger, zane.”

“huh?!” his head whips over to the shorter girl, freckles cheeks brightening into an embarrassed pink.

“yeah, and garroth would tease you, but then these two would come to defend you.” vylad raises his eyebrows, smiling smugly at the memory as he glanced at you. “i remember she used to lecture garroth like she was a grown up, and made him feel guilty and apologize everytime.”

“…what? i don’t remember that.” garroth frowns, eyes darting to the floor in thought. “i always remember being a good big brother.”

“oldest sibling syndrome,” vylad mutters to himself in amusement. “i mean, you’ve always been loving, sure. but when we were kids you were always messing with zane.”

zane crosses his arms, staring at the ground as he brews on the memories himself. his eyebrow is furrowed, long black lashes covering whatever emotion you tried to read from his eye. garroth hums to himself in thought, rolling his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

“huh, i kinda remember that, actually.”

“yeah, and i remember vylad used to eat dirt,” zane mutters.

you pettily restrain yourself from laughing, remembering how he had been rude to you just moments ago.

“i’ve always loved nature, what can i say?”

“and glue.”

“yet i still got into o’khasis prep.”

“whatever.” zane’s previous anger returns as he turns back around into his room. “i’m staying in my room until dinner. i don’t know why i even bothered to come out.”

the door slams behind him.

well.

the four of you silently walk downstairs, following garroth as he turns into a large living room.

“i’m really sorry about him. he’s been super angry all the time lately. he usually takes it mostly out on me, but it’s really annoying.” he turns, a heavy sigh leaving his lips and an apologetic look on his face.

“hey, at least he acknowledges your existence.”

“vylad,” garroth pats the younger brother’s shoulder with a small awe, “zane loves you. he’s just… going through some stuff.”

“i know, but still…” he sighs. “anyways, yeah. sorry guys.”

his hands wave forward as he gestures to the room.

“anyways. here’s the living room.”

“i can see that,” you laugh, walking over to the tall, built-in bookshelves that stood on either side of the huge stone fireplace.

“yeah, mom recently went on a huge redecorating spree and bought these new couches.”

aphmau makes a noise of wonder at the large white wrap-around couch, sitting down and poking one of the many soft throw pillows that decorated it.

garroth steps into a hallway that led further off into the house, waving all of you over and stepping down the short stairway into the next section.

“we have a bathroom and our laundry room over here, and…” he steps towards a large french door with frosted glass.

“this used to be the garage but then dad remodeled it to be his home office. he had a new garage built separate from the house,” garroth explains, before turning to crack open the door and peeking in. “dad?”

you turn to aphmau, lowering your voice to a whisper.

“me when i casually turn my garage into my home office.”

she elbows you and vylad snickers, having overheard you. your eyes widen in his direction and he innocently holds his hands up, smiling cheesily in your direction.

“hey, it’s all good. i’m aware my family is rich.”

you cover your mouth as you laugh, before garroth fully opens the door and waves for the three of you to follow him in.

you see where your dad had disappeared off to earlier. he stood with his arms crossed, whatever chat he was having with mr. ro’meave interrupted as the two men look over to greet all of you.

“hello. it’s been a while since i’ve last seen the two of you.” garte smiles, and he looks nearly exact to what you would imagine garroth to look like about twenty five years from now.

he stands from his desk, dressed in a very expensive looking suit as he strides over to politely shake your hand. a very fresh minty cologne briefly passes your nose and as he stands—very tall—in front of you, you notice how perfectly well groomed his short facial hair was.

“you two grew up to be beautiful young ladies.”

“thank you mr. ro’meave, it’s nice to meet you… again?”

“just call me garte.” he smiles, voice as smooth as garroth’s yet much less soft and most definitely firm and assertive.

you couldn’t help but nod in agreement, nervously unable to think of any more words to say. he was definitely a businessman.

“dinner is ready!” zianna’s chimed voice calls out to the house, interrupting your introductions.

“well, i was just beginning to feel hungry. perfect timing.”

everyone files out of the room, you and aphmau trailing behind the group. you lean close to her ear, smirking as you whisper.

“dilf.”

aphmau slowly turns her head to you in shock, jaw dropped and mouth gaping wide open, her cheeks blazing red. her hand covers her mouth as she recovers, clearing her throat.

“real.”

“what are you two whispering about back there?” vylad turns, raising an eyebrow at the two of you.

“nothing!” you both squeak, stiffening up and walking along as he and garroth shoot the two of you a strange look.

you soon find yourself situated with everyone else at the ro’meaves’ huge dining table, plates set with the combination of the three mothers’ efforts.

“so,” garte’s eyes landed on yours, the rest of the table’s attention falling to you, “i was talking to your dad about your move and how you were adjusting to the new school life. how do you like phoenix drop so far?”

“oh, it’s been… pretty good so far.” you gulp down the nervous lump in your throat. “garroth and aphmau are really good friends, so that helps.”

he barks out a laugh, the sound so crisp and clear it nearly startles you out of your seat.

“of course! if anyone gives you trouble you can always go to garroth or any of my boys for help.”

your lips curl up in a forced smile, embarrassment sinking into your skin. in your peripheral vision, you can see zane’s eye practically roll to the back of his head.

garroth leans forward in his seat, his perfect smile matching his father’s. “yeah, seriously. anytime you need help you know you can come to me.”

vylad’s mouth spreads into that same cheesy smile, though it looks like he had shoved something sour in his mouth before doing so.

“same here. i can’t fight, but i’ll do my best.”

“thanks, the same goes for all of you,” you return the sentiment, your cheeks burning uncomfortably hot as you distract yourself by shoving a bite of food in your mouth.

“i don’t think so,” zane mutters with an annoyed groan, earning a quick glare from his brothers.

“zane, you need to–” garroth starts.

“i don’t need to do anything, actually.”

“dad.” vylad turns to garte, the other adults distracted in their own conversation now. “can you tell zane and garroth to stop fighting?”

garte makes a distracted humming noise, before an insistent buzzing interrupts the moment.

“are they?” he asks absentmindedly, his focus turned to his phone as he quickly whips it out from his suit pocket, frowning. “ah, i should take this. it’s about the beach house.”

vylad’s face falls, and garte’s sudden exit from the room seems enough for his older brothers to stop talking, their annoyed expressions dropping as blue eyes watch him disappear through the doorway.

the rest of the dinner you quietly eat your food, listening and joining in to the older ladies’ chatter as they carry on the lively atmosphere. the boys start to gather up dishes on their mother’s command (they’re trained well), and when you reach down to your own plate to help, zianna reaches for your hand.

“oh no, my boys got it, hun!” she begins to pull you away, leading you back to the staircase. “i do want to talk to you about something, though.”

“oh, sure.”

she pulls you into a room upstairs that garroth hadn’t shown you before, another bedroom that you assume to be her and garte's. the room was elegantly decorated with different shades of creams, contrasted by polished dark ebony wood furniture. she leads you to her vanity and shuffles through her drawers.

you turn to glance through a nearby doorway, the room expanding even further into a huge bathroom that looked to be just as big as the bedroom.

“ah, here.” zianna says suddenly, and your attention turns to the taller woman as she dangles an interesting looking necklace in front of you.

you blink, gingerly taking the locket between your fingers as she moves it closer, face expectant.

“um, what is this?”

“i’m giving it to you,” she explains, reaching to clasp the thin chain around your neck.

“to me?” your eyes widen. “thank you… but why?”

“i spoke to your mom and sylvanna about the reason you moved here.” her tone is serious. “i know you probably don’t want to talk about it, and i understand that. but i want you to know you will always be safe with me and my boys.”

she lifts the locket up, briefly blowing into the top and a low whistle sounds from the metal.

“that’s with barely any air blowing into it. if you’re ever in trouble and no one is near, blow into this as hard as you can, and it’ll sound like a train whistle.”

you blink down at the beautifully decorated whistle, the round device looking inconspicuous. you’re unsure why it shakes you, but you feel the tip of your nose prick and your eyes mist.

“thank you…”

“of course dear. i want you to stay near my gar-gar as much as you can when you’re out until we start figuring some things out, okay? you’re not alone.” her delicate hands brush away your hands from your face, lightly tapping your cheeks.

“and we should totes exchange numbers!” she cheerfully switches up her tone, waving her hand to dry your teary lashes. “anytime you need me, you can just give me a call, pretty girl!”

after exchanging phone numbers as zianna insisted, the two of you make your way downstairs to give your final goodbyes for the evening. garroth and vylad pull you into a hug, wishing you a good night and retreating back upstairs. zane lingers for just a moment, his brow and mouth still pulled down into that signature frown.

you thought you had swallowed down your urge for tears, but the cold icy blues that darted over your expression seemed much too observant for comfort.

“you know, if you frown like that all the time you’ll have wrinkles by your twenties,” you remark, lingering by the front door.

“didn’t ask,” he quips, arms crossed stubbornly before he sighs. “good night.”

“...good night.”

tag list: @orinlin @pain-in-the-ashe @youmake1mistake @arienic

#aphmau mystreet #mystreet x reader #mystreet #aphmau #x reader #phoenix drop high #aphmau pdh #pdh #reader insert #fem reader

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maybe-moonchild · 5 months ago

Text

CHAPTER 2

summary: in which shit hits the fan and you are not thrilled. WC: 6.8k ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ

“I know who I am,” Peter shoots back cooly even if he’s clenching his jaw. Taking down these bozo’s would be a piece of cake… if not for you right there. Protecting you is a given. If he can do so without revealing a certain secret… then he would prefer that.

You suck in a breath, your hands on his arm tightening as you press yourself into his back. You can’t really help it. Not when he has his arm thrown in front of you to make sure he is at the head of it all.

Oh. Also, these goons are looking for him! Not you!

“Oh Good,” the man continues, pretending like he’s trying to make the presence of the gun in his hand inconspicuous. It’s not. Not when you can see the outline of it in the dim light each time he makes sure to flash a glimpse of it. Peter doesn’t flinch which only makes your panic rise.

Your eyes flick between all three men. There's Scar Guy up ahead, a line of jagged skin cutting through his eyebrow and continuing down his cheek. The guy standing at the edge of the sidewalk near the road is littered with tattoos that crawl up his neck and down into his hands. Lastly is the man at your backs who has a red beanie tugged over his long hair.

“Wanted to make sure we had the right guy. Don’t think Wilson Fisk would be too happy if we didn’t.”

A flicker of recognition makes Peter tense at the realization of the situation. He holds your arm a little tighter, trying to position you even more behind him in case anything happens.

You also recognize the name from the few times you vaguely remember reading it in the paper or hearing it on the news. He’s a businessman or something. You've never really cared enough to pay that much attention.

“The file,” Scar Guy sighs and rubs a hand down his face. “He knows you took it. He wants it back. Return it and we won’t hurt your friend here.”

Those words make you go cold because you know that he means it. Peter knows he means it too, his eyes narrowing as the pieces start to click together.

The file he’d managed to find the other day while snooping around those not-so-abandoned warehouses that he happily took home. He’d hoped it would give him a leg up on Fisk ever since the crime lord figured out his identity a few weeks ago and Peter had been waiting for him to do something about it.

The file Fisk now knew he had… Shit.

This was so not how tonight was supposed to go.

“Listen, I don’t know what youre talking about.” He tries to seem calm, to play innocent even though his hopes are low. “So I don’t know what file you’re looking for but you have the wrong guy.”

Scar Guy just rolls his eyes like he’s already over the whole thing. With a nod to Red Hat behind you, he scratches the side of his head with his gun. “Come on kid. Just give us the file.”

Peter doesn’t know how he doesn’t see it coming and he’s never hated himself more. He's so overwhelmed with trying to figure out what he can do that will keep you safe that he completely misses Red Hat guy advancing on you from behind.

A large hand finds its way around your upper arm and roughly jerks you backwards. Peter calls out your name but when he reaches for you, you’re too far out of grasps. You fall back into Red Hat’s chest and his arm snakes around your neck.

“Okay, okay, just let her go and I’ll go get the file,” he urges, head whipping between the three goons. His hands are clenched so tightly at his sides that he’s surprised his nails haven’t broken through skin.

Now, Peter is starting to panic.

“Stop squirming,” Red Hat guy mutters as his grip around your neck tightens. You try to pull away in the hopes that you can get back towards Peter. When you don’t immediately listen, he puts enough pressure on your windpipe to emphasize his order. A whimper lodges itself in your throat as you still before the thug lets up enough for you to inhale.

“Or,” the tattooed one draws out and leans back against the random car parked along the street. “You go get it and we’ll keep her until you get it back.”

And to further emphasize their point, Red Hat leans closer to smell your hair. You jerk your head away, the thought of being left alone with a single one of these assholes making you try and twist out of his hold again.

“Fine. I’ll go get it. Just let go of my friend.”

If you weren’t so busy with trying to lean away from the foul smelling breath and escape the headlock you’re in, you would have been taken aback that Peter Parker just called you his friend.

“File first, then we’ll let her go,” Scar Guy sneers, no room for debate in his tone. From the angry look on Peter’s face, there was no chance in hell he was leaving you with these assholes.

Peter scoffs, “That doesn’t work for me. So you can either let her go and I’ll get you the file or we can do this the hard way.”

He can get you out of this mess. He has to get you out of this mess.

A horrible ache of guilt stabs his chest when he looks at you. You always pretended to never be scared- ever since you were kids, you’d square your shoulders and do your best at hiding your fear.

But your wide eyes, tousled hair, and the way you struggle to stand on your toes to try and lessen some of the force against your neck are all dead giveaways that you’re terrified.

“How about this,” Scar Guy starts again, signaling to Red Hat with a nod of his head. “We all take a little field trip to get the file from wherever you stashed it away and we don't have to do this the hard way.”

You go rigid the second you feel it. The cool of the metal pressing against your temple and the deafening click that follows. It’s not hard to realize that whatever Peter has been up to some serious shit the past four years. Flinching, you turn your head and squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes you can put some distance between your head and the barrel of the gun.

Peter doesn’t move either. He inhales so sharply through clenched teeth and forces down the urge to lose it. His muscles are painfully tense with the urge to leap into action, fingers twitching towards his web shooters. But he doesn’t.

And it almost kills him.

“It’s not on me, okay? I don’t have it,” he snaps. In surrender, he raises his hands in the hopes to be allowed to take a step forward. The second he tries to take a step, the barrel digs a little harder into your temple which has him freezing in his tracks.

Tears prick at your eyes. You can’t help it even if you wish you could. There's a gun to your head and the feel of the thug pressing up against your back and his cheek against your hair is enough to make you feel sick. Your fingers dig into his thick arm still thrown around your neck but you've stopped trying to fight and get away.

When he’s met with silence, Peter forces himself to tear his eyes away from your terrified form and settle back on Scar Guy. He’d clearly been waiting for Peter’s attention so he could continue.

“Here’s how this is going to work, Mr. Parker,” Scar Guy says like he’s talking to a child. “We’re going to take a little field trip to your apartment. Then, you’re gonna go in, get it, and bring it out to us. We’ll bring your little girlfriend too just in case. That way, if you decide to try anything…” he shrugs and makes a face. “Do you really need me to say it?”

“No.” Peter practically cuts him off with how fast he answers.

Satisfied, the thug shrugs again and you feel the pressure against your head lessen. Some of the rigidity in your muscles eases as you slowly open your eyes to immediately find Peter’s. It’s easier to look at him. He tries to apologize without actually saying a word. Giving you an apologetic look that he wished conveyed the millions of apologies he was thinking.

A muscle ticks in his jaw. “But I swear to god if you lay a single finger on her, you’re going to have a lot more to worry about than a stupid file.”

For some reason, the threat doesn’t seem to be laughed off by the men around. It almost seems like they consider it.

Scar Guy digs his phone out of his pocket and shoots off a text message. The street is painfully quiet aside from the distant sound of traffic from a few blocks away. You wish someone would drive by, that one person would peek out their apartment window and look down at the scene below.

Hell, you wish Spider-Man would swing by at this very moment.

Peter wants to tear all three of these assholes apart with his bare hands. Doing so would only put a target on your back now that they had seen your face and know more than just his name.

A sleek black limo without its headlights on slowly rolls to a stop at the curb. The windows are so tinted that the glass practically looks like a mirror. You wouldn’t be surprised if the thing had just left a car wash.

“After you,” Scar Guy grunts with a dramatic wave of his arm. For a long moment, Peter just glares at him while the goon with the tattoos opens the door.

You can breathe. You know that- deep down, somewhere in your brain- you are well aware that your air flow is not being restricted. That the arm around your neck is not enough to stop oxygen from traveling to your lungs, through your arteries, and to your brain before turning into CO2 that you exhale.

Remembering that is difficult with the realization that you were now playing tag along as a hostage.

Peter grits his teeth, glancing between you and the open door. He’s weighing his options. Oblige or defy. Kick all three of these guys asses and reveal his secret or let you be in prolonged danger.

He crosses the distance and hovers in the doorway. “Come on. You can let her go now.” If looks could kill, Scar Guy would be six feet under. “She doesn’t even know what the file is about. She has nothing to do with any of this. She doesn’t even know me anymore!”

It almost stings.

You don’t know him anymore. You hadn’t spoken in four years aside from small talk that is so forced it’s painful. The only things you know about him are the things you see on May’s facebook before you can scroll away. What you do know is that your dorky neighbor would never get involved with something like this.

Scar Guy and Red Hat share a look. For a second, you almost think they might agree and toss you aside on the sidewalk. Instead, Red Hat shoves you roughly towards the door of the limo. Your eyes go wide and Peters do the same as you stumble. He manages to catch you before you can fully sprawl out onto his lap.

“Easy,” Peter grunts in Scar Guys direction but Scar Guy is too busy shooting off another text. Your hands move to grip his arms while he stabilizes you, one hand on your waist and the other on your shoulder. Once he’s balanced you out, he slowly helps you settle back into the seat beside him.

Neither of you let go. You don’t think you could let go of him if you wanted to.

“You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay- everything’s fine, right?”

You nod blindly. Maybe if you believe it, you will be. At least that was all it seemed you could do as you try to catch your breath and catch a single thought swirling around your brain. His hands cup your face and angle it in his direction. There is the faintest bruise forming on your temple from the barrel of thr gun and Peter’s thumb finds it with a frown.

“Alright, good. We’ll be fine- as soon as I get the file, they’ll let us go and nothing like this will ever happen again- god. I am so, so sorry.” The worry is evident in his face from the crease between his brows and how he chews on his bottom lip. Soothingly, he smooths your hair from your face.

Scar guy climbs into the back of the limo before the door shuts behind him. His gun doesn’t leave his hand but you’re thankful that it's hanging limply at his side rather than being trained in your direction. You and Peter watch him from the corner of your eyes as Scar Guy settles in the opposite seats. He’s more preoccupied with rattling off texts on his blackberry.

You try to comprehend the situation you find yourself in- scratch that. The situation Peter finds himself in is that he has managed to drag you into eight years after the demise of your friendship.

“Are you kidding me,” you hiss. “Kingpin? You stole a file from a crime lord?”

“Okay, okay. I can explain.” Even as Peter raises a hand in surrender, the other rests where your neck meets your shoulder. “It wasn’t like that-” Your glare intensifies and he grimaces. “Okay… yeah… it was like that.”

“Oh? And pray tell, Parker, what was it like?”

There is a long moment of silence as he tries to grasp for the least stupid answer he can find. After far too long, he throws his head back and groans.

“Look, I didn’t even think he would know I took it! It was just there and I saw it and I thought that– well I thought that maybe it would be of use to someone- the only reason I even thought about it was because-”

“Because you always get in over your head Peter Parker.”

Letting out a huff, you sink back into your seat without letting go of one of his arms. Just being able to hold onto him gives you some bit of comfort. Your glare moves to your feet because it is a hell of a lot easier to look down than at him at the moment. With a quiet hum of the engine, the limo pulls out from the street and onto the road.

Probably taking you to your impending doom, you think.

“Why can’t you ever stand down?” Your voice comes out softer and his shoulders seem to sag. “Why do you always have to try and play hero when it just puts you in danger?”

Even without looking up at him, you can practically feel his guilt. Can practically see his furrowed brows and the way he keeps his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. The same look you had seen hundred of times as children. Back when you were both young and the most trouble he would get in was Aunt May grounding him for a night or the black eye he’d get from Flash.

“Because someone has to,” he sighs, finally giving up trying to catch your eye to turn forward in his seat. “I’m tired of people not being able to walk the streets and having to look over their shoulder for…”

Your face softens more at the realization that a part of him is probably doing this because of Ben. Maybe even for him- who knew anymore? Certainly not you anymore.

“Okay, look,” Peter starts again, turning back to face you with pleading eyes. He doesn't even know what he’s pleading for at this point. “I know I shouldn’t have gotten myself involved with this. I get in over my head a lot but… someone needs to.”

“Someone does. Someone does do that. The difference is that they have superpowers and you should let them handle it.”

That someone has superpowers. That someone wears a mask that keeps this from happening.

Before he can respond, the limo slows to a stop and cuts the conversation short. You both look up and out the windows, studying the quiet street you’ve arrived on. Peters hand tenses on your arm as he sits up a little straighter. Scar guy gets out of the limo, exchanging quiet conversation with someone on the sidewalk that we can’t see.

Peter tenses before Wilson Fisk even enters the back of the limo.

Fisk is the first crime boss you have ever laid eyes on in real life. Not that that’s much of a surprise considering you don't make it a habit to associate yourself with Manhattan's very own Kingpin. Clad in a suit that you are sure, at minimum, costs twice your monthly rent, he moves to occupy the seat opposite of us with such ease that it makes you more on edge.

Like he belongs here; in his element.

Panic starts to creep back up your spine but you manage to press yourself a little closer to Peter's side. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he stares down Fisk who seems to be more occupied with getting comfortable. Scar Guy resumes his position at his side, his gun resuming its position and resting in his lap.

For a long moment, the silence is so deafening, the only thing you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears. At least the sound of the limo pulling off onto the street offers very little sound.

“Mr. Parker,” Fisk greets with amused indifference, his voice demanding authority. “I’m glad we caught you at this time. Happy that you and your friend can join us.”

His attention moves to you and Peter and I both tense at the same time. It’s like being scrutinized under a microscope. Your skin crawls and you force yourself to not shift in your seat but you can’t actually get yourself to hold his gaze.

“How rude of me. Wilson Fisk.” Hesitantly, you manage to squeak out your name as he extends his hand to you across the small space.

You barely have time to consider your next course of action before Peter has moved forward in his seat to throw an arm across your body. Something about it is only more amusing to Fisk. He doesn’t look remotely offended and drops his hand to return to the top of his cane.

“Fine. Let's cut to the chase. The file- my file. My file that you stole. I’m done playing games with Mr. Parker. I want it back and I want it back now.”

Peter doesn’t flinch. “I will happily give it back to you. Just let her go and I’ll go get it.” His defiance is emphasized by his flat stare and arms folded over his chest. Scar Guy just rolls his eyes again.

It’s clear Peter isn’t going to hand it over until you’re out of the line of fire.

“Unfortunately, I can’t do that,” Fisk sighs with mock sympathy. Your fingers wrap themselves around Peter’s wrist from where his hand is splayed on the seat beside you. Fisk chuckles. It’s a cold humorless sound that makes you stiffen and Peter’s other hand moves to rest on your knee.

Whereas Peter is good at playing this game, you are not. You can’t hide your fear and play it cool like he can.

The way Fisk is looking at you is calculated, like he’s trying to determine how much damage he can do to you if it will get Peter to fold.

Peter seems to sense that and his face hardens. “Do. Not. Touch. Her.”

“Ah, Peter, you can’t tell me what to do.

“She has nothing to do with this, Fisk. She doesn’t even know anything,” Peter grits out. “I should be the only one here right now. Not her.”

The crime boss wants his stuff back and he doesn’t care who he has to hurt to get it.

Right now… that person is you.

As the limo turns a corner, it causes the both of you to lean to the side. His arm pressed against your chest keeps you from lurching out of your seat before you both fall back into place. Each slam of your heart against your ribs is palpable in his arm but the steadiness seems to keep him grounded.

“I’m not leaving.”

All three men in the car are caught off guard by the sound of you speaking up. Peter's head whips in your direction so fast he could have given himself whiplash.

For the love of god.

Could you ever not be scared? Be too fearful and run when you should? Granted, this was all of his fault, but he was trying to get you out of the mess he’d dragged you into.

Fisk raises an eyebrow. “Oh, this one is feisty,” he chuckles in his low, rumbling voice.

“Uh, yes,” Peter hisses under his breath as you stare straight ahead. “You are.” His fingers on your knee flex in warning which only makes you scowl.

You can’t tell if you’re proud of yourself for not wanting to run or if you’re just as much of a stubborn idiot as he is.

Maybe both.

“Uh, yes. I am,” you say slowly and glance in his direction before speaking to Fisk. “If you’re taking him somewhere, I’m going too.” You square your shoulders in the hopes of looking as confident as you can manage given the fear. Peter, ever the drama queen, throws his hands up in disbelief before tugging at his hair.

“We have a reason for you not to be involved here! You don’t even know what it is so let me handle this. You don’t need to be here.”

“Yeah well, neither should you.” This time you do finally turn fully in your seat to fully address him. “If you had grown up at all in the last eight years and stopped getting yourself into trouble, neither of us would be here!”

Peter does that thing. He does what he always does when he gets frustrated. Where his eyes get wide and his mouth falls open to blurt out something defensive. Then he thinks better of it and snaps his mouth shut, throws his hands up, and turns away with a huff.

“It’s different,” he grumbles. “I’m the one who had the file so I’m the one who has to fix this mess. You shouldn’t be here. This is not where you belong.”

This has got to be the worst time for the two of you to bicker. It’s not like either of you can help the way you so easily fall back into the natural ease of how things used to be. The kind of petty arguing that sounds childish and is forgotten moments after the conversation ends.

Your glare at him. It’s the first time in four years that you’ve been this close to him and you hate that there is a brief moment that you wish the lighting in here was better so you could study every detail.

“I was looking to have this handled but… it seems you two have some unresolved issues,” Fisk snorts and Scar Guy just raises his eyebrows at the scene.

“One second.” You hold up a hand in Fisks direction without looking at him. Peter’s eyes go wide because you did not seriously tell a freaking crime boss to give you a moment when you're playing hostage. He yanks your hand down because you very much did and- are you out of your mind?

“How is this any different?” you continue without missing a beat. “Because your knack for trouble has just seemed to grow with you.”

“Because it is not your problem,” Peter replies sharply as he drops your hand back into your lap. “Because I created this mess. Now it’s my job to fix it. Your job is to get out of here.”

Peter isn’t going to admit it but you’re completely right- that he’s still the same person who got into trouble almost every day as a child.

He’s just grown up a little so his problems aren’t as childish anymore. That’s all.

“See! This is exactly what I expected.”

“Would you two shut up?” Scar Guy groans while his head tips back on the seat.

Aside from a quiet scoff from Peter, you comply. You both turn back around in your seat, neither of you looking at each other and instead choosing to find anywhere else in the leather interior of the car more interesting.

“Is this how things usually go,” Fisk asks with a chuckle even if he finds the outburst to be more of a nuisance. “You two bickering like this?”

“No!”

Neither of you miss a beat, snapping out your answer at the same time. You can’t help being mad at him for trying to shove you out of his life the second it feels like maybe you're slightly closer to being let in. Despite the current situation, you’d had fun earlier getting pizza and joking back and forth.

“Fine. You want to be a part of this mess so badly? Go ahead,” Peter scoffs as he turns to face you again. “But the minute that shit hits the fan, I won’t hesitate to say I told you so.”

You roll your eyes and fold your arms over your chest without looking at him. “Fine.”

“Are you two finished squabbling like children?” Fisk is fed up and it’s clear by the sharpness in his tone. There's a threat hidden somewhere in his words.

You’re too busy trying not to grumble under your breath and he’s too busy scowling for either of you to realize that the limo has come to a stop in front of his apartment.

The second he turns back to look out of the tinted windows, the building that you’re parked outside of looks all too familiar. Peter’s apartment is in a relatively fine part of Hell’s Kitchen and could be a lot worse. The area is mostly apartment buildings, though there are a handful of bodegas and restaurants peppered in between.

“Go ahead. Get it. Bring it to me.”

Stiffening in his seat, Peter stares back at Fisk, eyes cold and jaw tense. You can’t seem to hold yourself as he can. You feel small and scared as the weight of the situation returns to you full force with such an intensity that you have to clasp your hands together in your lap so they don’t shake.

“She’s coming with me. I’m not leaving her here alone with you.”

“Girl stays with me,” Fisk sighs boredly. He pays more attention to the cigar he pulls from his pocket as he inspects it in his stubby fingers. Scar Guy gets out on Peter’s side, standing by the door and waiting for him to follow.

Now you’re really starting to panic and Peter is really starting to get pissed off. Your nails dig into your skin, leaving little half moons in their wake. Peter places his hand on yours without even glancing in your direction to try and reassure you in any way he can.

“You go get the files, bring them back here, and we’ll call it a day,” Fisk mumbles around the cigar dangling in his lips as he lights it. The smell of tobacco is overwhelming and he takes a long drag that makes the embers crackle. “Try to run off, I’ll kill her.”

Those words hit Peter hard enough that he might as well have gotten punched.

He opens his mouth to protest until he’s blue in the face. Over his dead body is he going to leave you, terrified and completely normal, in a situation like this ALONE. Even if it is only for a minute.

As much as you hate the idea as much as he does, you gently squeeze his wrist. It shuts off the stream of profanities ready to start spilling from his mouth and he turns his attention to you. You give him the faintest nod, telling him it’s okay. That the quicker he gets this done, the quicker everything will be over.

“Do not touch her, not even a hair on her head. Are we clear?” Peter grits the words out through clenched teeth. You inhale slowly through your nose just so you remember to keep breathing. It’s clear Peter doesn’t want to leave you alone in the car with Fisk but… it’s clear he doesn’t really have a choice.

Forcing his face to soften into anything that is not a look of dread is difficult but he manages. He turns to look at you and you meet his eyes without hesitation. Your eyes are wide and scared which just makes him feel even worse than he currently does. He reaches forward to brush a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Right back, okay? Everything’s fine. You are going to be perfectly fine.” Peter says it like it's something he’s sure of. He has to be sure of it or he is going to lose it before he can get through the doors of the lobby.

Your grip on his hand tightens at the prospect of having to let go but you make yourself nod and swallow thickly. His eyes flicker around your face and he almost looks like he’s trying to smile in the hopes to soothe some of your rising panic.

A part of him hates that he has to comply with this but he also knows he has to see it out if he wants a chance at making sure you’re safe.

With one last caress of your cheek, he untangles his hand from yours and climbs out of the car. Scar Guy shuts the door behind them and the sound makes you flinch.

If there is one thing you are absolutely certain of, it’s that Peter won’t run off.

Fisk lets out another quiet chuckle around the drag of the cigar. A cloud of smoke drifts slowly from his mouth and through the dimmed interior of the limo. It fills your lungs when you suck in a breath and makes you cough. At least he cracks the window. He studies you carefully like he’s trying to put something together.

Like he’s looking for an answer to a question he can’t quite place.

“Let me ask you something,” the sound of his voice demands your full attention. You peek up at him because you can’t seem to look at him head on. You keep your face as stoic as you can even if your skin is too hot and cold at the same time. “What is your relationship with Peter Parker? He seems to care about you.”

“We’re friends,” you murmur although you’re not entirely sure anymore considering you two hadn’t been friends in eight years.

“Ah. Friends.” The word sounds condescending in his mouth but he slowly nods like he’s considering that as an answer. “Friends.” A small smirk makes the corner of his lips curl around the cigar. “Well, that’s definitely a nice way of saying it. Something was going on there. Wasn’t it?”

You slowly shake your head. It’s easier than trying to open your mouth to speak.

Fisk hums like he doesn’t quite believe me, “Friends? Nothing more?”

You keep your hands clasped together in your lap. His scrutinizing gaze makes you want to squirm in your spot, the overwhelming urge to flee making your muscles twitch. At least Fisk isn’t creepy in a pervy way. Just terrifying in the ‘so rich and connected to anyone that he could hunt someone down in an hour’ kind of way.

When you don’t say anything, the crime boss doesn’t seem particularly bothered. Instead, he busies himself with tapping the cigar on the window pane, the butt falling onto the street. Rain taps against the glass, each drop quiet in the background of your racing heart.

“Seems to care about you quite a bit. Don’t think I’ve ever seen him get that bent out of shape for a civilian before.”

The second the crease between your brow deepens, Fisk knows he has you.

��What does that mean?” You're wary of the answer and you sit up a little straighter in your seat. His smile gets a little more smug but he only shrugs and looks away.

“Let me ask you this,” he sighs, hand flexing around the handle of his cane. “How long have you two been friends- or, not friends? Whatever it is that you two are?”

It’s your turn to shrug. When he doesn’t speak, it’s clear that the answer isn’t good enough. “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked in eight years…”

“Eight years,” he says slowly. “That's a long time not to speak to someone you have so many memories with… I see… And have you kept up with what he’s been up to since then?”

Whatever Wilson Fisk’s game is, you don’t know how to play.

“Not… much… aside from facebook posts, I guess.” The confusion you feel is evident in the frown you can’t seem to shake. You have to swallow again so you can hoarsely ask, “Why?”

Fisk just shrugs again.

“Nothing… and everything.” His eyes are steady and he takes his time to take another drag of the cigar. He leans forward in his head, head cocking to the side and you inhale sharply through your nose. Each drop of rain feels like the tick of a clock hand that makes time seem like it's moving too slowly. The longer you sit here, the more it feels like Fisk has shoved a meaty fist through your chest and is squeezing your down on your circulatory system.

“What do you really know about Peter Parker?”

Something in your gut doesn’t like the implication of his question.

Before eight years ago, you knew everything. You knew that he preferred watermelon flavored candy the most with the generic ‘green’ flavored ones in second place. Even when he stayed quiet, he couldn’t control his facial expression if his life depended on it. He liked sleeping on the side of the bed farthest farthest from the wall. He religiously picked and scratched at scabs or pressed his thumb into his bruises just to know they still hurt.

Now?

So, you say nothing. You clench your hands together and somehow manage to stare him down even when you're fighting the urge to turn your head.

A look of mock confusion settles on his face. “You’re not answering my question.”

“I don’t know,” you grit out, your voice and eyes cold. That answer makes you angry. You don’t know Peter Parker anymore. Years ago, you did and now you felt like you were wandering through the dark.

You hate that Fisk knows more about Peter than you do. At least Fisk knows why Peter got involved with files that belonged to himself anyway.

“Well then,” Fisk draws out as he settles back in his seat and punctuates his pause by flicking his cigar out the cracked open window. The glass slowly rolls closed and the car feels stuffy again. “Do you want to know the reason he took those files?”

This is a trap. You know that and you can see it from a mile away. It’s a game that will only end with everyone else but Fisk losing. Even if he didn’t win, he would never lose.

As you’re contemplating your answer, the door to your right is yanked open to reveal a pissed off Peter Parker. His harsh stare burns holes into Fisk before he tosses the files onto the floor so they land at Fisk's feet. The action only makes Fisk raise his eyebrows in amusement before he reaches to pick them up.

“There,” Peter spits out from his spot in the open car door. Scar Guy hovers behind him, bored and ready to move on to whatever their next activity of the night is. “There they are. We’re leaving.” “Why did you steal the file,” you blurt out without taking your eyes off of Fisk who wet his thumb to flip through the papers. You hate that he got to you. That there is a part of you that feels so left behind in the dark that you worry you will never find your way out. You hate that you can’t stop yourself from asking instead of scrambling out of the car and into the safety of Peter's arms.

But you need to know.

You need to know how the hell he got involved with someone like Kingpin. Why the hell he found himself in a situation to take the files in the first place. How this all led to a gun pressing into your head before being shoved into a limo with Manhattan's most notorious crime lord and Peter is acting like this is a regular saturday night event.

You don’t know the rules of the game. You don’t know how to play. You don’t know anything.

Peter’s look of hatred slips to a frown at your question as he turns to look at you. He’d been expecting you to bolt from the car and right into his arms the moment he returned. The last thing he expects is for you to stubbornly stay rooted in your spot.

“Later. Come on,” Peter says tensely before leaning inside. His hand finds your shoulder and gives you a gentle tug to try and get you moving. You don’t budge.

This time you do turn to look at him, “No.” It comes out sharper than you mean it to. “I want to know now.”

The look in your eye makes him falter. Peter tenses, his hand falling to hang lamely in the air like he’s suddenly second guessing everything that he is doing. His eyes are big and brown and urging, your name coming out like a plea. Fisk is quick to interrupt him.

“She’s right Parker. She’s your friend. She deserves to know.”

You don’t think you understand the meaning of the word friend anymore. At least you don’t understand how you and him fit together inside of it.

Peter says nothing. He holds your gaze, his hand extended in the air as an out to this horrible night. Clearly, he doesn’t know what the hell to say so he says nothing. You don’t think you've ever seen him look so conflicted or at a loss for words before now. The longer the silence stretches on, the larger Fisk’s smile grows.

“Parker?” Fisk's voice is mocking but it earns a dirty look from him.

And in his silence, you find your answer.

At least as much as an answer as you're going to get. That he is never going to tell you anyway. Not the real reason.

It stings.

It stings like an eight year old scar reopened and your ex-best friend poured antiseptic directly into the wound.

Sighing in defeat, Peter takes the opportunity to carefully haul you out of the seat. You let him, eyes narrowing at Fisk as you reach out to hold onto Peter's arms. Fisk doesn’t have to say it because you can see the words written all over his face.

‘I told you so.’

You find your footing on the wet pavement but are too scared to let go of him in the fear that your legs are going to give out. It’s stopped raining but the humidity hangs in the air. Breathing is easier without being confined to the small space that reeks of leather and smoke.

“Pleasure doing business with you Parker. It was a pleasure meeting you too,” Fisk grins, holding up the manilla folder and waving it in the air. “Next time, think twice before you steal from me.”

With the threat hanging in the air, Scar Guy climbs into the back seat with him and the slam of the car door sounds the end of the conversation. The limo pulls away and down the street as the two of you watch until the vehicle disappears around the corner.

Fisk tosses the file onto the seat beside him, his lips curling into a sinister grin as it all clicks. He’s found the perfect pressure point for Spider-Man.

The one weakness Peter has. The one thing he won't be able to help but give anything to protect.

You.

#peter parker tasm #peter parker tasm x reader #peter parker x reader #the amazing spider man #marvel #spiderman #Peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you

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dell-amor-te · 2 months ago

Text

“Three For a Girl”

Word Count: 3,029.

Warning(s): No beta but I try my best, slight language.

Pairing: F!Rook x Lucanis Dellamorte.

Summary: A look into a typical (very early) morning in the Dellamorte residence. (AKA the winner of that Dadcanis poll from a month ago, finally up and ready for reading.)

🐦‍⬛Read on ao3.

One for silence.

A single fussing sound—not even a proper cry—disturbed the otherwise placid night air. Perhaps it didn’t wake Lucanis in and of itself, but it certainly did nothing to ease him further into unconsciousness.

Maybe she’ll go back to sleep.

It was wishful thinking, and entirely misguided.

More fussing soon followed the first. Lucanis sat up, blinking a few times to allow his eyes time to adjust to being open for the first time in hours. Despite only having moonlight that snuck in through the windows to illuminate vague outlines and shapes of furniture in the bedroom, he knew his way around well enough to carefully pry himself from underneath the covers.

Despite his lacking sleep routine, he still found himself hesitant to leave the warmth of his shared bed. While it may not have been as lavish as some magisters, it was still a far cry from the meager cot shoved into the corner of a pantry he had slept on, an even further cry from the Ossuary’s cage that had acted as his home for a year before he was recruited by the Veilguard.

He rolled his shoulders, further unwinding from his rest.

Everyone had opinions when it came to babies. Lucanis learned that lesson before their daughter had even been born.

Let them cry, otherwise they’ll become too dependent on you. Pick them up and soothe them so they go back to sleep. Don’t sleep with them in your bed. Keep them between the two of you until they’re big enough for a crib.

It was endless. For a while, Lucanis had been sure it would end once the baby was born; when she became tangible and all too real and there was no more time before he was a father.

Her father.

When the newborn continued to fuss, Lucanis sighed in defeat.

His love’s sleep-heavy voice drawled out a yawn from the opposite side of the bed, pulled from sleep by their fussing daughter. In the dark, he leaned over the bed to plant a kiss against warm, familiar skin. He would never grow tired of being able to give such affection, just as he would never grow tired of receiving it in return.

“I’ve got her, anima mia. I’m awake, anyway.” A yawn interrupted him. “You stay put.”

A noncommittal groan assured him that his offer would not be fought tonight.

Between the three of them, it was hard to say who was getting the least amount of sleep these days.

Lucanis pulled himself up from his leaning position against the bed before retrieving and redressing himself in the housecoat he had haphazardly shrugged off before falling into said bed just hours ago. The Crow raised his arms above his head, catlike in comportment while he eased cramped muscles back to waking limberness. He rounded the bed and carefully freed his disquieted daughter from her bassinet.

“Now, now, diavolina. You’ve already woken us up, hm? No need to get louder.” His teasing was gentle and warm, not that she could have understood him, anyway.

He was rather pleased. She was growing everyday, but her changing weight was just as familiar to him as any weapon of choice. He certainly enjoyed holding her more than any of his treasured daggers.

Two for surprise.

He pressed a kiss to one of her round cheeks, both because she deserved it and to make sure she wasn’t too warm. He placed another one to the center of her forehead. She was warm, as always, but not feverish.

“Sweet Andraste, this is quite the tantrum.” Despite the chastising nature of his words, Lucanis’ lips were pulled upwards in a gentle smile, and his tone remained impossibly soft. “What’s the matter, my pearl?” He all but crooned, muttering a string of Antivan that she understood as much as she did any other language at this point.

He had done so since before her birth.

Having one parent fluent in Antiva’s famous tongue and one who still kept the language of the elven people alive, they did their best to introduce her to both, along with the common parlance she would need more than anything. After all, she was both elven and Antivan. Why should she not know both parts of her lineage?

Lucanis studied her, thinking better of his actions with a quiet hum, then he pressed another kiss to her other cheek.

“Three for good measure.”

She was quieter in his arms, thankfully, though she remained far more awake than he anticipated. Dark-bright eyes stared up at him, fully alert despite the lateness of the hour.

Or was it considered early now?

Either way, if she had no designs to return to sleep, then he was going to need coffee.

And soon.

Four’s exercise.

Rather than fussing, Lucanis listened with a half-smile as his daughter’s vocalizations became more agreeable, now that she had gotten her way.

Barely a month old, and the half-elf already knew exactly how to get her way. But, to be entirely honest, she had managed to wrap Lucanis around her little finger the moment he first held her in his arms. With her safely in his arms once again, he made his way out of the bedroom, leaving his love to continue sleeping undisturbed.

She babbled softly, entirely nonsensical, though each sound meant the world to Lucanis.

“Is that right? Well, forgive me for presuming such a thing about you, my pearl. However, I feel I should tell you that your mother is a very good sleeper, unlike we two. And you’ve given her quite the time this past month…and the months before that, too. I think the least we can do is let her sleep tonight, don’t you?”

He stopped at the door to the room just down the hall, opening the door with a slight push using one of his knuckles.

There was no one to greet him on the other side of the door, though the room was plenty filled.

A menagerie of different gifts from Teia (and Viago) to mark the occasion of her birth, sat alongside, well, not gifts, but offerings from other Crows who wanted to sit well with the Dellamorte’s. A large, entirely too oversized plush bird—a crow, of course—from her Uncle Illario, headed a small army of other toys and other playthings from her other aunts and uncles.

A carved dragon accompanied by a wyvern that Davrin had made, each holding a griffon feather in their mouths. Gold relics that acted more as decor than anything a newborn would be interested in beyond their shine. They were courtesy of Taash’s own private collection. An intricate mobile was suspended in the air above the unused crib, crafted and enchanted by none other than Bellara. A bundle of books had been a gift of Neve’s, while Varric had also supplied a tiny collection of his own.

Harding had also gifted a myriad of frames that now hung all over the room. Not one was empty, each one contained a pressed flower or other such plant, each collected along the course of the adventure that had led to the little girl’s parents meeting (again), and arguably to the existence of the little girl at all. The girl’s mother had insisted it was simply due to her elevated and inconsistent hormones, but it has certainly been the gift that had made her cry the most.

Well, apart from Emmrich’s gifts.

The crib was one of a kind, and Dalish made. Made by Nöa’s late mother’s clan to celebrate Nöa’s adoption, treasured all the same as any birth. The blankets, too, were Emmrich’s doing—handmade, soft but tapestry-like. One sported the colors of the Volkarin family banner. One was patterned with the sigil of the Dellamorte house. Another denoted Nöa’s two clans, as well as her allegiance to the Veil Jumpers.

The knitted halla penned in the crib were gifts from different Veil Jumpers. The only one to wear a scowl was apparently meant to mimic Strife, no doubt gifted by Irelin, though she had never admitted to it.

The room was more like a shrine to the infant’s very existence rather than a nursery proper. The crib hadn’t been slept in once yet, as instead she had been routinely settled in the cot (a gift from Emmrich) at the foot of their bed, and only then when she wasn’t where she was now—in one of her parent’s arms.

Lucanis had never allowed himself to dream of a life like this before. Death was his calling, and his desires did not exist outside of that calling. And yet he had hesitated, any time he saw an infant, his mind would try to wander. He would wonder.

He never could have dreamed of this, though. Not of how much he loved her mother, nor how much he loved her, their daughter, and certainly not how much she was loved by people who also loved him.

While the rumination meant the world to him, the muse behind his considerations was less than enthused by their stop.

“As you wish, my pearl.”

He turned to leave the room, shifting her to one arm so he could pull the door closed behind him.

The house was impossibly still in the liminal hours of night, almost like a crypt. Lucanis found it comforting, this quiet. No demon in his mind, or hanging on his ear.

He made his way down to the kitchen easily enough in the dark, though he remained mindful of each step until the light of his beloved’s enchanted candles licked against the flooring to illuminate the rest of his path.

“Alright, now.” Lucanis said with a quiet sigh. “We’ll have to wrap you up so I can use both of my hands, hm?”

The brightly-woven sash-turned-sling—an impromptu gift from Bellara from the night of the infant’s birth—had been thrown over the back of one of the kitchen chairs after its last use, and there it still hung in half-draped glory, ready for its next wearing. With one hand, Lucanis slid it over his shoulder before settling his daughter within, securing her to his chest with a deftness that had not come as immediately as his current proficiency would belie.

The sling had been the first gift their daughter received after her…well, less than ideal birth.

Born a month before she was due—by their estimations—in a magister’s home after said magister’s failed abduction attempt. While Lucanis would never regret the active role he got to play in bringing her into the world, he had wished more than once that the ordeal of bringing a child into the world hadn’t further compounded on his wife by happening in a house that had played the stage for so much of her trauma.

Not to mention Nöa’s immediate detainment after the body of said magister had been discovered, or the subsequent two days she had been incarcerated while evidence was collected to prove her innocence. Two days where a newly postpartum Nöa had been forced into an unearned cell, left to tend to her own postpartum care while Lucanis fought both to prove her claim as well as care for a newborn who had been ripped from her mother.

Lucanis was often glad to be rid of Spite, but that was the first time he was truly thankful to be disconnected from the demon. He could only imagine what sort of reaction to the entire situation the demon could have come up with, his own emotions having been a dark storm enough on their own without Spite’s additional support.

Even weeks later, it was difficult not to look at his wife and daughter from time to time and remember those emotions. He would do anything for them and their safety. And he had proven it time and time again.

But it was hard to tell where he would be today if he had given in to his own desires that day.

Five for a slaughter.

Lucanis yawned, setting to work preparing his coffee. The motions were familiar, comfortable.

Once everything was said and done and Nöa was emancipated and they were reunited to adapt to life as a family of three, the issue of what to name their daughter finally presented itself.

During the course of the pregnancy, they must have discussed hundreds of names, for sons and daughters alike. But in the end, none of them matched up to the beginning their daughter had, nor did they reflect what continued to be a theme in her parents’ life.

And so they had named her Judex, their judgment—their justice, just like the blade of old Tevinter law.

A fitting irony for the freeborn daughter of an emancipated elven slave.

Six for the thrill.

“Now, the trick to any good cup of coffee is to make sure you’ve got the right balance, Jude.” He told her.

Taash had been the first one to call her Jude, and the nickname quickly caught on.

Judex remained unfazed by his explanation of proper brewing techniques, already half-asleep again, her half-tipped ear pressed to the skin right above his heart. No doubt lulled by the familiarity of being wrapped against her father’s chest, and, Lucanis liked to think, the smell of fresh Antivan coffee beans.

Seven means more sovereigns.

He was pouring a stream of fresh coffee into his favorite mug not a moment too soon. He didn’t wait for it to cool before he took a first savoring sip. He nodded, approving of his work.

And once the sun had risen, Lucanis set to work preparing a morning cup of his wife’s drink of choice.

By that time, Judex was properly awake again, and had quickly taken an interest in testing her lungs. She didn’t cry, no. She took to yelling, chirping, babbling. And Lucanis indulged every sound as if it were the most profound conversation.

The chatty little girl let out one particularly loud shout, and then quieted, staring up at Lucanis intently, as if waiting to gauge his reaction.

“Well, good morning to you, too.”

Lucanis spun around just in time to see his beloved coming through the front room, joining them in the kitchen.

“Oh, I’m sorry, amor. Did we wake you?” Lucanis asked before giving her a good morning kiss.

Nöa hummed. “No. I smelled tea.” She told him.

“Green tea and peppermint.” He confirmed. “It should be done steeping by now.

“Maker, you’re too good to me.” She kissed him again, then pressed a kiss to their daughter’s forehead. “Good morning to you, too, little fledgling.”

“And that particular nickname, my pearl, is your Uncle Illario’s fault. Yes, it is.” Lucanis nodded emphatically, earning himself a laugh from Judex.

Nöa chuckled at her husband and daughter’s not-so-one-sided conversation while she took one of her mugs out of the cabinet and poured herself a generous portion of the prepared tea. She watched as Lucanis noticed the letter she had sat on the counter when she came into the room.

“The courier already came?” Lucanis raised an eyebrow at the letter.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear him knock.” Nöa admitted, cradling her mug in both hands to warm them. “That’s what woke me, actually. The tea was just a better incentive to get out of bed. And I figured since I actually kept my clothes on for once, there was no harm in grabbing it.”

Lucanis held the letter between two fingers, looking up at his wife.

Her half-wakefulness still playing on the corners of her half-cocked smirk. “The Crows send their regards.” She said with a shrug.

Sure enough, the letter was sealed with the Crows corvid wax seal, with Teia’s handwriting on the front.

Lucanis sighed, kissing the top of his daughter’s dark-haired head. “No rest for the wicked, eh, Judex?” He mused. “It’s not a contract. Teia doesn’t sign those.”

Nöa leaned against the counter, intrigued.

Lucanis offered her the letter.

“You want me to open official Crow papers?”

“Well, you married into the house. It says Dellamorte, not specifically my name. You’re a Dellamorte. I don’t see why not.” He reasoned, one hand going up to support the Judex’s head when he sat her upright against his shoulder. “I don’t think this one quite has the hand-eye coordination for it yet.”

Nöa hummed, feeling a little smug as she broke the seal easily enough. She read the letter quickly enough, and then laughed.

Judex made a similar sound.

“What does it say?”

“It’s an invitation from Illario.” Nöa said, still laughing as she slid the letter across the counter for him to read.

Lucanis read it quickly before snorting. “An invitation written by himself to stay in our house.” He amended for his wife. “Mierda.”

Nöa laughed again. “If you’re not careful, that’s going to be her first word, vhenan.”

They needed to joke. They both knew Illario’s arrival would bring with it updates to the ongoing situation between the Crows and the Crown. In the weeks since Judex’s birth, maybe even more so given the circumstances of her birth, they had been given a bit of relief from their assistance with Illario’s project.

Nöa moved around the counter to rest herself against her husband’s side so she could have access to their daughter once more. She still got caught up in the shock of it all sometimes. She never pictured herself here—as a mother. And yet she couldn’t imagine life without Judex any more than she could imagine her life without Lucanis.

The Crow rested his head against his wife’s, both of them lost in their daughter’s world, all the while said daughter remained peacefully oblivious to her parents’ mooning.

Judex had been with them every step of the way so far, and they both knew that wouldn’t change now that reality beyond her was knocking at their door once more. They would simply have to do everything in their power to see things through before she was old enough to remember any of it it.

Even better: before she was old enough to speak, let alone curse.

Eight marks the final kill.

#Lucanis Dellamorte #Rook x Lucanis #DA4 #Dragon Age #DA:TV #Dadcanis #Panöwen #Nöa notes #Lethal Attraction #Lucanöwen #Judex tag #Samwise writes stuff #Samwise actually managing to post the thing she made a poll for? more like than she thinks apparently!

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