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lightseoul · 3 days ago

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CHAPTER 9 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 7.4k (hoo boy. i did say i would end this with a bang. i wrote and edited this in two days.)

tags. minors dni. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, mentions of canon-typical violence, mentions of food, mentions of physical & mental health issues, explicit...themes. y'all see for yourselves what those are

a/n. and here we are. a little over two months since i posted the masterlist in the hopes that it would motivate me to see this series through, and i actually did it!!! i poured my heart and soul into this chapter, specifically, so i hope you enjoy it and find it a great way to wrap up the story. see the end for a message <3

links. masterlist, ao3

You shoot up at the sound of a honk—a blaring sound that you think can only be from one of those humongous passenger buses that circle the city.

Except they never really pass by your neighborhood—your apartment being located in the outer peripheries of Musutafu.

So why, all of a sudden, are you hearing these noises?

Wasn’t it just recently that you shot up awake like this?

Clenching your eyes back closed, you shake your head vigorously. The dull thumping that stretches from your parietal straight to your frontal lobe is unmistakable, such is the dryness of your throat. You look to your left, letting out a sigh of relief when you see a glass of water on the nightstand. You quickly grab it and take a sip, finally eyeing your surroundings as you do so.

The room is dim—the city lights emanating through the window the only source of illumination within the four walls, enough to cast a faint glow on what you’re now sure is Bakugou’s bedroom. You’ve only been here one night, but the plush mattress beneath you feels familiar, and you’re a hundred percent sure that’s your suitcase in the corner right next to his wardrobe. The wardrobe where he retrieved the futon…last night?

You shift to be on all fours, wincing to a halt when your back screams in protest at the motion. You try to rotate your neck next, grateful when all you feel is a slight strain and a sting—like you’ve got some bruising at the front. The rest of your body seems to be working alright—fatigued, yes, but not enough to cause you a new wave of pain with every maneuver.

And so with that thought, you slowly crawl toward the foot of the bed, right until you catch a glimpse of the said futon. It’s somewhat undone—arranged exactly how you think Bakugou left it the morning of the mission. Well, how you two left it. You remember accidentally stepping on it once or twice while trying not to invade Bakugou’s personal space as you simultaneously got ready, making a mental note to fix it before you left.

You guess you never got to. Apparently, neither did Bakugou.

Which only means one thing.

It’s still D-Day.

Only then do the events from earlier today come flooding at you, and you find yourself stumbling out the door, barefoot and maybe still a little too out of it to be rushing like this.

Regardless, you burst out of the room—fully expecting the twins to be there—although you’re not hit with a sobering visual confirmation, nor are you hit with a menacing glare followed by a ripping out of your tracker, which you note has already disappeared from its spot in the middle of your chest.

Instead, what hits you is the heady yet comforting smell of ramen broth.

You glance in the direction of the kitchen, and sure enough, Bakugou’s standing there—decked out in lounge clothes under an apron with a ladle in one hand—staring at you, surprised.

“Hey,” he finally gets out after a beat of immobility, before facing back toward the stove and turning down the heat. “You’re awake.”

You nod, although he doesn’t see it with his back turned against you. You pad toward the kitchen as quietly as you can, stopping a few feet away from him where he looks so normal, like he didn’t just wrestle a murderer a couple of hours ago.

What the hell is going on?

Bakugou glances over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in question—and it just dawns on you that you said that last bit out loud—before spinning to fully face you again.

“You had an anxiety attack,” he says as a matter of factly, and you feel yourself flame. “They told me to take you home after they did first aid on the both of us.”

So, he got hurt, too.

You tamp down the shame from your breakdown and note the bandage on his cheek, right where his scar is.

Still, it’s not exactly the two of you who you’re most concerned about right now…

You gulp, willing yourself to hold Bakugou’s gaze. “What about Masaki?” you ask. “D-did he—make it?”

At that, Bakugou sighs, and it’s enough for you to know the answer. Despite yourself, you feel a surge of guilt wash over your body.

“He was rushed to the hospital,” the pro-hero explains, solemn, “But he didn’t make it.”

And when you don’t say anything: “It’s not your fault, Y/N. You didn’t kill him,” he huffs, “I did.”

You shake your head decisively, before tossing him a stern look. “You did what you had to do.”

Bakugou stares at you for a second, an inexplicable expression on his face, although you don’t get to study it further because you look away first. “Did you know he was a consul?” you inquire, suddenly feeling the obligation to change the topic.

Bakugou turns, once again busying himself with the stove. “I heard.”

You pull a stool from underneath the kitchen island and hoist yourself up into it. “Explains why he was never around in the headquarters.”

“Explains why he was never home, either,” he piles on.

You feel your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently, he just went through a divorce and lost custody of his daughters to his ex-wife, who that guy Hiroto described to have a pretty weak quirk. Said the man always had supremacist views, but changed for the worst when the woman filed a case against him.”

Huh.

“Speaking of quirks,” Bakugou continues, stirring the broth, “I’m sure you figured it out, but his was called retaliate. He could absorb attacks, especially explosions, and redirect them with—”

“Double the power, yeah,” you finish for him.

“Quadruple if he’s feeling confident—an ironic clause for a relatively meek guy like him,” Bakugou remarks. “Explains why he still took you with him despite suspecting we were doing something behind his back. He needed your luck and was planning to blackmail you into boosting him.”

That makes you frown. “But they didn’t figure out it was actually manipulation, did they? He mentioned luck to me, too. In the car, before we went into the building.”

“No, they didn’t,” comes Bakugou’s cool response. “Masaki and the rest still thought it was luck, just that you may have been using it beyond their instruction. Plus, at that point, they already had my bombs, so they could easily dispose of me and use my life as leverage to get you to do what they said.”

Bakugou reaches for one of the condiments in the rack, lightly shaking the contents out of the container and into the soup. “Explains why they told me last night to follow suit and get dressed in normal clothes. Didn’t matter that I’d be easily identified in them—I was never gonna get to the Prime Minister’s Office anyway.”

That fucking reminds you. “Where did that bastard even take you?”

At that, Bakugou stiffens. “An industrial-grade refrigerator,” he mutters.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he spews, perhaps a bit miffed. You can tell he’s not enjoying talking about this. “I was bolted in, and Kouki disappeared before I could wrangle him into letting me out.”

You can only gawk at him as he drawls on. “Took me a while to gather enough sweat for one massive blow to break the lock.”

“H-how?” you manage to croak out.

“Push-ups,” he answers curtly, still stirring. “I lost count at around 300.”

He takes your stupefied silence as a sign to continue.

“After that, I figured the old geezer couldn’t have gotten me too far—otherwise, he would’ve depleted his capacity to conduct mass teleportation if things went south for them. I boosted myself up to get an aerial view and find a landmark, and got going when I did.”

“Were you still wearing your tracker?” you can’t help but probe.

“I had to,” Bakugou responds, “If I wanted him to come to me. When he found out I was on the move, he teleported to where I was—probably to teleport me to my death, leverage be damned—but I was faster, and he couldn’t catch up.”

“I blasted him unconscious before he could retreat and bring everyone else with him,” Bakugou says as he takes what looks to be a lid and puts it over the pot, leaving a small gap for the steam to come out. “He’s in custody now. Shitty hair’s talking to him as we speak.”

At the mention of the redhead’s nickname, you straighten up. “How is he? And Sero?” you say so quickly you almost stumble over your words, “Are they okay?”

“Yeah,” comes his prompt retort, and you find your shoulders sagging in relief. “The twins put up a fight, but they eventually had them wrapped in Sero’s tape and chased you to the elevator. But then somebody pulled the fire alarm and they got stuck.”

“It was Masaki,” you swiftly supply. “He did it just as he hauled me out of the elevator.”

Again, you watch as Bakugou visibly tenses, but he doesn’t say anything. At least, for a moment, before he sighs.

“Yeah, well, they couldn’t get out for a while because the system needed manual operation to send the elevator back to ground floor, and nobody was around to do it. They couldn’t smash their way out of there, either. Could’ve caused the entire thing to crash down.”

“Wasn’t there any other hero besides them?”

“No,” Bakugou says almost regrettably as he takes the bowl of uncooked noodles into his hands. “They thought I’d be there just as planned, so they assigned the rest of the pro-heroes involved to the rest of the schools.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “I guess that explains why they went for the twins first instead of Masaki. Maybe they thought you’d be there to handle him?”

“No, they had eyes on you,” he corrects, just as he pours the noodles into the soup. “Shitty hair said they prioritized the two because they seemed stronger than Masaki. His packing that much fucking strength came as a shock to everyone.”

You chuckle dryly. “Even you, right?”

He grunts, unamused. “Even me.”

You let yourself sit in silence as Bakugou continues to tend to what he’s cooking. It goes on like this for a little while, before it hits you belatedly.

“Did anyone else get hurt?” you suddenly ask, “You know, aside from Masaki?”

“None, unless you count property damage,” he quips, and you let out a half-hearted laugh. You can hear him smirking when he adds: “Luckily, Kirishima and the others had enough foresight to evacuate the place entirely.”

“I’m guessing you know how they did it?”

At that, Bakugou nods. “…Although, I can’t say I agree with it.”

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“They used government surveillance information to send targeted texts to the potential victims—parents on behalf of the students, staff, employees,” he reveals, voice low. “Something about a suspension that they needed to be quiet about for their safety. Except the guards, who had to be there at the entrance.”

“But—”

“That would’ve meant Masaki and the twins would receive the message, too, I know,” he interjects. “Good thing I managed to put their names on that piece of paper. Otherwise, we would’ve been fucked.”

“No shit,” is the only thing you can mumble, head reeling from the revelation just now.

“…We barely made it, huh?” he rejoins, quiet.

“Yeah…” you reply.

A pause.

Then—

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out of the blue, startling Bakugou. You refuse to meet his gaze, though, even as you continue. “For losing it back there.”

At that, Bakugou whips to look at you, and you have no choice but to look up at him. “Hah?”

“I didn’t think I’d use everything up, and it’s been so long since I last depleted my quirk like that,” is the only thing you can get out.

You let your eyes fall to your enjoined hands in front of you. “I couldn’t control myself. I’m…sorry.”

Another pause.

“Tsk.”

Your eyes widen at the unexpected sound, and despite yourself, you find your line of vision going back to Bakugou, who’s now scowling at you.

“The only thing you should be sorry for is that unnecessary as shit apology,” he spits, before turning back to the stove. “Now, come on. Help me with the plates.”

You do just as Bakugou says and assist him.

You end up situating the placemats and cutlery just as he finished up the dish, serving it not even a few minutes later in a luxurious-looking, suspiciously Todoroki-esque bowl that you’re sure costs more than a well-functioning arm.

You try to ignore it as you navigate yourself in his kitchen, although it eventually becomes apparent that a peculiar kind of tension lingers in the air still, but you figure it’s not entirely unfathomable.

It’s only been a few hours, after all.

You repeat this like an incantation in your head—again and again until it somehow sticks—even as you quietly say your thanks and dig in. Not one word is uttered in between spoonfuls of food, the silence reminiscent of yesterday’s dinner—even though yesterday now feels like a whole month ago.

At least, that’s what you were thinking, until a booming voice erupts throughout the room, entirely juxtaposing the earlier stillness. You startle, then ease up when you realize it’s All Might’s, and that it’s merely a ringtone. Bakugou scrambles to fetch his phone from the island, although whatever urgency he had just now goes out the window when he sees the caller ID.

“It’s Asahi,” he grumbles.

You hurriedly swallow your noodles. “Aren’t you gonna answer that?”

Bakugou glares at his phone for another second before shaking his head and turning it off, walking back toward you.

“Isn’t he gonna get mad?” you ask just as he reseats himself.

“We’ve been on duty for over two weeks,” Bakugou snarls, picking back up his chopsticks. “He can kindly go fuck himself.”

That makes you snort, which earns you a smirk, although his face falls almost immediately after.

You swallow the discomfort that shoots to your throat at the sight of it.

You try not to get caught, but you secretly sneak glances for the rest of the meal, and only by the end of it do you notice that his hair’s gone back to its normal, unruly state—probably due to a shower that he took after you got home.

That, and there’s definitely something weighing him down.

You just don’t know what.

You don’t attempt to comment on it as you help him clean up the plates, or even as you start drying the dishes after he washes them beside you. He doesn’t try to start a conversation, either, focus seemingly trained solely on the task in front of him, although you know better than to believe what your eyes are telling you.

It’s that thought that ultimately emboldens you to speak up a few minutes in.

You clear your throat, eyeing him as subtly as you can. “…Something on your mind?”

To your dismay, he doesn’t answer you, only passing a plate without sparing you a single glance.

Well, then.

Despite yourself, you feel yourself deflate at his snubbing.

You had your doubts about coming forward and asking him, although that’s when the memories of the things you had to go through together came in and you thought he’d trust you enough to share—but you guess you’re getting ahead of yourself, because there’s no way he’d—

“You used your quirk on me, didn’t you?

You freeze, all thoughts wiped out from your brain.

You feel his gaze on the side of your face, but you don’t dare turn to look at him, nor do you open your mouth.

He turns away, nodding. “I knew it.”

Fuck this.

“People don’t normally notice—” you blurt, and he shifts to face you again, “—when I use it on them.”

You scratch at your cheek, feeling weirdly restless. “I think it’s only because you’re perceptive to begin with, and because you know about me and what I can do.”

“Why’d you do it?” is his immediate response, catching you off guard. You splutter, although—to your chagrin—he only raises an eyebrow at you, expression nothing less than expectant.

What the hell are you supposed to say other than the truth, then?

“Fine,” you hiss, pulling your lips into a thin line. “It was because I noticed you were getting frantic.”

At that, Bakugou’s eye twitches. “You calling me sloppy?”

“No!” you exclaim, then backtrack. “I was just—I just did what my instincts told me…”

And really, you did.

That’s all you could’ve done in that situation, for a person with your experience.

And you’re about to expound on that to a skeptical Bakugou when, to your surprise, he nods.

“Good call,” he mutters so silently, but you hear it anyway, and your eyes widen.

You must be gaping at him like he just said you are the greatest person to have ever graced the earth because he immediately looks away, embarrassed, a sudsy bowl still in hand.

“It’s stupid,” he continues, and you barely clock him having resorted to aggressively toeing his house slippers—the pair you bought for him. “I’ve never really lost my cool like that before.”

Now, that you’re not sure of.

Still, you force out a decent reaction.

“R-really?”

You’re instantly granted with a side-eye. “Don’t sound so fucking shocked.”

“It’s not that—” you choke, “It’s just that—”

“I have a short temper, I know. Sue me,” he spews, shutting you up.

“But I never let that get in the way of my work,” Bakugou pushes, suddenly serious. “Never.”

You frown, placing the plate you’ve been holding in the drying rack. “Well, they did fool us by separating us last minute,” you offer just as you look back at him, “I’d be pissed, too, getting betrayed like that.”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything in reply, opting to stare at you—borderline scowling—for what feels like a minute. He eventually sighs, and you find yourself mentally sighing at the break in eye contact as he puts down the dish he was in the middle of washing.

But then he turns to you again, face blank, and says the strangest thing.

“Tell me. Are you playing with my emotions right now?”

“What?” you cry, “No! Why would you even—”

You’re cut off when—without warning—Bakugou coaxes the towel from your hand and takes a step close, invading your space.

“Good,” he rumbles, voice low and gruff as he leans even closer. “Just wanted to make sure.”

That’s all the warning he gives you before he grabs your neck and dives in, pressing his lips firmly against yours. You instantly shut down at the contact, your body going rigid against his just like when he kissed you out of the blue this morning. But unlike earlier today, you don’t relax, and he must’ve sensed it, because he quickly pulls away, the hand that was just on your nape now resting on your shoulder.

“Shit,” Bakugou curses, a mortified look on his face. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

“No!” you interject, “I mean, it’s okay. It’s just…”

“Just what?” he breathes out, releasing you from his hold, and you don’t know if you’ve finally gone crazy, but did he just sound…hopeful?

No, he didn’t.

Which is why you muster up the courage to say the next thing.

“You’re just confused,” you finally get out, looking him straight in the eye.

His reply is instant.

“Believe me, I’m fucking not.”

That makes you frown, because why is he giving you such a hard time? You’re giving him an out, for god’s sake. A wake-up call, if you will.

That none of these is real.

And that he’s confusing make-believe with reality.

These very thoughts must be evident on your face because he studies you closely for a bit, a similar frown etched on his features. He then shakes his head, the same way he does when he’s getting impatient.

“You don’t believe me?” he finally says, and you’re about to say no, you do not, when he suddenly takes a step closer, and you find yourself stumbling back.

“What if,” another step forward for him, another one backward for you, “I tell you that I’ve been wanting to kiss the crap out of you, even when no one’s watching?”

Yet another step, and he finally stops. “Especially when no one’s watching.”

You can’t help it—you sputter, and to that, Bakugou only flashes you a devilish smirk. “Nothing?” he taunts, “You’ve got nothing to say?”

“J-just kiss?”

The second you say it, you know you fucked up.

His crimson eyes widen in surprise. “I mean, I want to fuck you, too, but—”

“No!” you cry, and he shuts up, “I mean, not like that. What I meant was, is this thing you’re feeling purely physical? Not that I think I’m all that—” you quickly disclaim, “—but is there something else, or…?”

At that, the motherfucker chuckles, and you’ve got half a mind to bury yourself in the very ground you’re standing on. But then you remember you’re on the top floor of a high-rise building, so that would only mean—

“I want to date the crap out of you, too, dumbass.”

“…Oh.”

A raised eyebrow. “Just ‘oh’?”

You flush. That was too soon of a reference.

Still, you have to respond.

“Oh, as in, oh, great,” you croak, “Because, believe it or not, I feel the same way.”

You can only watch in delight as Bakugou releases a breath you think he didn’t know he was holding, utter relief written all over his body. There’s no controlling the smile that breaches your mouth at the sight of it, earlier’s dreadful anticipation now morphing into a hoard of rabid butterflies. Bakugou sees the change in your countenance and grins.

“Does this mean I get to kiss you now? And that you won’t just stand there like a fucking corpse?”

That earns him a punch to the arm, which he takes in stride, laughing. “Can’t you just do it without teasing me?” you grumble, “You’re such a dickhead.”

“Got it, princess,” is the last (pestering) thing he says before reaching for your neck again and pulling you toward him, wasting no time in bringing your lips to his.

It doesn’t elude you that you’re still somewhat tense, but you eventually manage to will yourself to ease up just as his other hand shoots up to hold your cheek, tilting it so he can deepen the kiss. You can’t help it—you groan when he does, and he takes that as an opportunity to slowly enter your mouth with his tongue, and you squeak at the intrusion. He only laughs at that, but he doesn’t let up, his tongue seemingly having a mind of its own as it swirls and explores without restraint.

You don’t know how long this goes on—your brain filled with nothing but the sensation of Bakugou’s soft lips against yours—but he eventually pulls away, and you have to stop yourself from ogling at how debauched he looks with just his flushed face and swollen lips. You guess you aren’t any different, because Bakugou’s eyes rove over your face—hungrily—almost as if he’s drinking you in.

“You’re a good kisser,” you offer lamely, desperate for anything to fill the tense air.

At that, he coughs, as if he didn’t expect you to say that of all things. “T-thanks. You, too.”

You flash him a grateful smile, although it’s quick to falter.

A beat.

“So…” you try again, “What now?”

Bakugou looks down at his feet, suddenly shy. “I—uh, meant it, you know.”

You gulp. “Meant what?”

“That I want to fuck you.”

Shit.

“But I understand if you don’t want to, or if that’s moving too fast. It’s only been two weeks and—”

“Correction,” you cut in, “It’s been over two weeks. You said so yourself.”

That makes Bakugou pause, who only looks at you in bewilderment. “What are you trying to—”

“I’m ready,” you declare, voice nothing short of sure. “I want this.”

That seems to set something off in the pro-hero, because his entire demeanor shifts. You don’t get to comment on it before he’s back on you in an instant, encasing your lips in a searing kiss. You stagger back from the sheer force alone, grabbing onto his shirt for purchase as you stumble across the living room, not parting ways for even a second, his mouth hot against yours. He seizes you by the waist just as you almost crash into the wall, expertly maneuvering you through the door and into his bedroom, lips still molded together.

He only pulls away when you reach the foot of his bed, letting go of his grip on you to lift you bridal-style, the brazen display of effortless strength sending a shot of arousal into your veins. You loop your arms around his neck as he climbs over the mattress, inching toward the headboard before gently placing you down into the pillows. You waste no time pulling him back closer to you, initiating the kiss this time, and you think he must like that, judging by the way he groans quietly.

“What,” you mumble against his lips, “You like it when I take charge?”

“Fuck off,” he mumbles back, although he doesn’t break away, only biting your lower lip as if in punishment. You wince, but he’s quick to lave over it with his tongue. “Hurry up and—” a kiss, “—take off—” another kiss, “—mm—your clothes.”

That makes you laugh. Of course, he’d order you to strip after just cussing you out.

You don’t complain, though, lightly shoving him away so you can pull your shirt over your head. You glance at Bakugou when it’s off of you, and sure enough, he’s staring at your chest.

“Aren’t you gonna undress as well?” you ask pointedly, hoping your embarrassment isn’t showing on your face.

“Shit, right,” he blubbers, and you find yourself smiling as he hurries to take off his shirt.

Only that smile doesn’t get to last for too long before it’s instantly replaced with an ‘o’ at the sight of his ridiculously defined abs.

You point to it, honestly perturbed. “How the fuck is that even possible?”

Now that makes him laugh, the motion causing his abdominal muscles to flex and you blanch. “What if I tell you I’ve had them since high school?”

“Liar.”

Bakugou grins. “Had you known, would you have forced me to listen to your confession?”

“That’s it,” you make a move to get out of the bed but he tugs you back, flashing you a boyish smile that you don’t want to admit makes you—kinda—all weak in the knees.

“That was the last one,” he promises, still grinning, “I swear.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why do I feel like you’re lying straight out of your ass.”

“Me?” he asks, feigning innocence as he crawls closer, towering over you again until you’re back to lying on the bed. “Never.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, looking anywhere but at him or his broad chest. Although, your efforts are all for naught because he lifts one hand and takes your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Can I take off your bra?” he inquires, the earnestness in his tone almost causing you to squirm.

You thankfully don’t—you’ve decided you’ve embarrassed yourself enough for today—and instead, nod. He doesn’t bother to say anything else as he reaches for your back, and you arch—slowly, Masaki did a number on you, after all—just in time so he can feel your clasp. It takes him a second to undo it, and a few more to lift it off of you, but when he does, the first thing he says is—

“Fuck.”

You snort. “I’m guessing that you like them.”

“Obviously, dumbass,” he spits, although it’s more playful than scathing. Then, he’s back to staring, like he can’t quite believe this is happening. “Wow.”

“What, is this the first time you’ve seen boobs?” you joke—because there’s no way a guy like him has never been with a girl, at least physically—although the jesting lilt in your voice immediately dies out when his face falls and he looks away.

Shit.

There’s only one thing for you to do.

Reaching out for his nape, you tug him down until he’s only a few centimeters away, taking his lips into yours before he can protest. To your relief, he melts into your touch, back to eagerly returning the kiss in a matter of seconds. Wanting to make him feel good now more than ever, you let your other hand snake up to his hair, grabbing a fistful before pulling tentatively—as if to test the waters. You don’t end up disappointed—in fact, you’re far from it—when he groans against your mouth, louder than before. Emboldened by his generous reaction, you pull again—harder this time—and it’s your turn to be surprised when his hips buck involuntarily against your own, giving you the slightest bit of friction that’s nowhere near enough.

You rub your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache as discreetly as you can, although this motion doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou, who withdraws ever so slightly to study you.

“You okay?”

“Yes—it’s just,” you hesitate, before deciding you owe him the truth. “…I want you.”

Whatever Bakugou expected you to say, it sure wasn’t that—and so candidly, too—because he splutters, face evidently flushing despite the dim lights. “I-I want you, too,” he says honestly, “But I should warn you, I’ve never really done this before.”

“I thought you were gonna say you were massive,” you quip.

“Yeah,” he smirks without missing a beat, and you choke, “That, too.”

You slap his chest, which you instantly regret. “You’re the worst!”

He doesn’t say anything to that, only grinning as he leans in and—to your surprise—latches his lips onto your neck. You barely stop yourself from jolting in pleasure when he finds and nips at your pulse point—no doubt leaving a mark that you’re going to have to color correct tomorrow if you don’t want to get any funny looks. To your chagrin—or delight, you don’t fucking know at this point—Bakugou doesn’t stop his assault on your neck, instead bringing one hand up to graze the skin below your breast.

Suddenly tired of all the teasing, you grab his hand yourself and place it right on your boob, smiling when a curse is immediately muttered against your neck. You don’t let go of your hold, choosing to guide him on how to grope and fondle it instead. Bakugou catches on quickly, and before you know it, he’s already playing with your nipples, twisting and pulling them just the way you like.

“You can use your mouth, too, if you want,” you tell him a few moments later, stifling a moan when he sucks on a spot at the crook of your neck one more time, before nodding and easing down so he can be face to face with your chest.

He doesn’t let you get another word in before he takes a nipple into his mouth, and this time, you can’t stop yourself—you jerk against him—which only pushes it further. He takes the opening and starts sucking, and you’ve got half a mind to push him away. You don’t, though, and you doubt you could’ve anyway, his grip on your waist unrelenting as he switches between breasts, doing all sorts of things with his tongue that have your mind swimming.

“Still think I’m the worst?” he eventually looks up and asks roguishly, lips even more swollen and glistening with saliva.

“Jury’s still out—” you hiss when he pinches a nipple, and you swat him away. “Never mind, you are the worst.”

“Even when I do this?” he drawls, and you’re about to clarify with him what he’s going off about this time, when he unexpectedly slips a finger underneath your panties, and you barely, barely manage to bite back a moan.

“Fuck,” he rasps, “you’re so wet.”

You fight back a shudder even as he traces the outline of your sex, seemingly entranced. “Are you—are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“What, you saying I’m a liar?” is his snarky retort, although he thankfully doesn’t stop his ministrations. In fact, your question only seems to provoke him, causing him to apply more pressure.

“N-no, it’s just that, fuck—” you huff, “I-I wouldn’t be surprised if you went d-down on me and you’d be good at that, too.”

That makes Bakugou pause, and you almost whine at the loss.

But then he practically rips your underwear out of the way, and you somehow don’t find it in you to care at all. They were granny panties anyway, and you’re too engrossed in how the pro-hero urges you to open your thighs for him, and then prying them open himself when you take too long to do it.

Not to mention the look on his face when he finally sees you.

“Stop staring at me, Bakugou,” you can’t help but grumble.

“Katsuki.”

“What?”

He doesn’t shift to look at you, gaze still focused between your thighs. “Call me Katsuki.”

That’s all the foreboding he offers before he dives in and licks a long strip along your slit, and you almost scream, if not for the hand you slap over your mouth the second that he does. He’s relentless—even as you squirm and tremble underneath him—lapping on your wetness like a man who hasn’t had a drop of water for days. You jolt when he flicks his tongue right at your clit, hands instinctively shooting up to grab at his hair. But then he makes the mistake of pushing the wet muscle into your entrance, and you inadvertently pull—hard—hard enough that it causes him to groan against your core, sending a surge of vibrations straight into your pussy.

“Fuck,” you warble, looking down at Bakugou only to see him peering up at you with half-lidded eyes that’s got you almost moaning again. “Keep on doing that.”

Fortunately, Bakugou doesn’t tease you for sounding pathetic just now, only choosing to do as you say. He resumes, with renewed vigor, paying particular attention to your clit this time. He keeps on licking it, and then sucking, before licking it again, that you almost don’t notice when a finger presses against your hole. But then he’s inching it slowly and you’re suddenly all too aware of the intrusion.

The first thing that registers is that his fingers are definitely bigger than yours.

The second thing is that fuck—did he just insert a second one?

You look down to where he’s stuck to your body, but you can’t see anything beyond his head of ash-blonde hair.

But then he does a scissoring motion inside you just as he suckles at your clit, and that’s all the confirmation you need. You can’t help it—you finally moan—and you barely miss him grinning against your pussy at the sound of it.

“Fucking finally,” he breathes out, lifting his head a bit so he can speak. “I thought you were never gonna moan for me again.”

“Again?” you barely manage to answer, already missing his mouth on you. You may be out of it, but you’re certain you haven’t cracked until just now.

“Already forgot?” he goads, pulling his fingers out of you. “Let me remind you then.”

Before you can get up and coerce him to just shut up and continue what he was doing, he’s back to towering over you, smashing his lips against yours.

And then he does it—the thing he did before. The first day in your shared bedroom. You still don’t know what it is, but he does something with his tongue, or his mouth? His teeth? You don’t fucking know, but it’s coupled with his scalding hold on your body, and despite yourself, you moan.

He promptly pulls away, a proud smirk on his face.

“Now, don��t hold back,” he commands cooly as you gape at him in half offense, half shock. “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

He then makes quick work of taking off his boxers, and at this point, you can only stare at him as he eases it off.

He wasn’t kidding.

If he’s noticing you practically eye-fucking him, though, he doesn’t comment on it, although the faint tinge of scarlet on his cheeks is undeniable. Instead, he only crawls over you again, right until he’s hovering over your pelvis.

Wait.

“Bakugou—” you start.

“Katsuki,” he corrects petulantly.

“Katsuki,” you force yourself to say, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, “Let me make you feel good, too.”

“Next time,” he quickly responds, and you feel your heart lurch at the promise of a continuation. “I just need to be inside you, or I’m gonna fucking nut.”

You frown, although his honest admission sends an undeniable thrill down your spine. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he seethes, “Now, come on.”

You don’t waste another second, opening up your legs just enough for Bakugou to position himself between them. He’s got an arm propped at the side of your head to support his weight, while the other reaches down to finally grab his cock. He instantly hisses at the contact, and you don’t have to look to know it’s his pre-cum that’s dribbling down your thighs.

He then mutters a curse to himself, but it’s not exactly laced with lust just as it has been the past how many minutes.

And that’s when it hits you.

The guy is nervous.

You reach up to touch his cheek, his eyes shooting up to meet yours when you do. You offer him a small smile, one that you hope says ‘I’m alright’ and that ‘I want this’. But then you remember this is Bakugou freaking Katsuki, and the last thing he needs is to be placated.

“Relax, Katsuki,” you coo, grinning when he shoots you a glare.

“And you’re gonna have to do that on your own,” you tease, “I’m all out for today.”

That lights a flame under his ass, because the glare just now morphs into a look of determination, and one glimpse of it is enough to tell you you’re fucked.

“Spread your fucking pussy,” he growls, and you immediately do as he says. He’s back to gripping his cock in an instant, giving himself a few pumps before he’s aligning it with your entrance.

And just like that, he pushes in.

You both groan when he does, his massive dick barely breaching your hole, and yet, it already feels like your nerves are on fire. You sneak a peek at the pro-hero, and you’re glad you do, because you’re met with the glorious sight of Bakugou with his eyes clenched close, lips bit in a fierce attempt to stay quiet.

“Tell me when to move,” he rasps out, refusing to open his eyes.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, bringing your arms up to wrap them around his torso. “Look at me.”

“I can’t,” he seethes, just as you feel his cock twitch inside you. “Or else I’m gonna finish.”

Knowing better than to press him, you nod instead, before wiggling your hips slightly. That grants you a curse from him, but before he can cuss you out, you speak up.

“I think I’m ready. You can move no—” you hiss when he pushes without warning, and he freezes.

“Fuck, I’m sorr—”

“Just—slowly, Katsuki. Go on, move.”

He pushes again—slowly, this time—and you can only sit there and take it as he eases in, inch by inch—stopping sometimes when it gets a bit much for you—until he’s finally, fully sheathed in.

“Shit.”

“God.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” Bakugou grits out, head nestled within the crook of your neck. He still refuses to look at you, but apparently, that doesn’t matter as long as you’re being praised, because his comment inadvertently causes you to clamp down on his cock, and his breath hitches.

“Jesus,” he drones, burying himself further into your neck. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”

You don’t answer him, choosing to tentatively roll your hips against his instead. He moans in your ear, and this time, you can’t help but whimper.

“Move, Katsuki,” you plead, “I can’t wait anymore.”

That seems to sober him right up, because he grunts in acknowledgement, before slowly lifting himself with his arms. Only then does he opens his eyes, and it takes everything within him not to cum at the sight of you.

He knows better than to fucking give up, though—not when he’s come this far—so with renewed purpose, he starts with small, shallow thrusts that have you mewling at him and him grunting at you, until he gradually builds speed and he’s pulling almost all the way out only to slam back into you again.

He does this again and again—somehow deeper and deeper each time—all the while panting and moaning above you, until he prods at a particular spot that has you jerking violently against him, cursing. “Fuc—”

“Shit,” he freezes, “What—”

“No, no, no, no,” you cry out, clawing at his bare arms, “Don’t stop!”

At your request, Bakugou’s back to pounding into you in an instant, and you barely miss him looking at you with feral eyes before he hits the spot again, and you scream.

“Right—fuck—right there!”

At that, Bakugou rolls his hips once more and hits your G-spot squarely, and you moan.

“Right there?” he breathes out in question, chest puffing in pride as he watches you bob your head desperately, too blissed out to even care what you look like.

But then your walls are clamping down on him again, and Bakugou curses. “I’m not gonna l-last any l-longer,” he manages to get out, choosing to look at anywhere but your face.

“P-play—fuck,” you choke out, “—play with my c-clit.”

And when you don’t immediately feel his finger on your bud: “Hurry.”

That has Bakugou rushing to rub your clit, and you can only beg for more as the overwhelming feeling of his cock inside you mixes with the euphoria brought by his fingers—until you feel the tell-tale signs of your impending orgasm.

“K-Katsuki,” you shudder, “I’m gonna c-cum.”

“I’m g-gonna—” he grunts, eyes clenched closed, “—fuck—I’m gonna cum, t-too.”

“Katsuki,” you call again, and he turns his head to face your direction. “Look at me.”

And when he does—open his eyes—you roll your hips against his as best as you can, and you say it.

“Give it to me, hero.”

And just like that, he cums.

Hard.

And you cum right with him, digging your nails into his biceps as you moan, so loud you wish he’d kiss you to shut you up, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he moans with you—a strangled one that strangely sends a pang of longing straight to your chest, a longing that you can now finally admit is for the very person in your arms, who you so ardently wish would stay there, even if the mission is long over.

You don’t say any of this, though, even as he kisses your forehead before slowly pulling out, or even as he silently pads to the bathroom to get a towel so he can get you cleaned up. You thank him as he does, and watch him as he puts it away and hesitates for a moment—as if the manual he’s read about sex as a high schooler ends at physical aftercare and he’s run out of instructions.

It’s after a few more moments of awkward silence do you finally sit up and move, scooching over to make space beside you. Bakugou’s eyes trail your movement, widening when he realizes just what you’re doing. He’s stiff even as he crawls to the spot next to you, promptly taking the duvet cover that was tossed to the side in the middle of…everything, before laying it on top of your bodies.

“Thanks,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say.

“‘s nothing,” is his reply, voice equally quiet.

Neither of you says anything for a while, even as Bakugou gently tugs your head so you can rest it on his shoulder.

It’s you, though, who breaks the silence.

“You know, had I known things were gonna end this way, I would’ve just slept in the same bed as you.”

“Fucking tell me about it.”

a/n. :') first off, i want to thank you, friend, for taking a chance on this series and reading it up 'til the end. this has been the biggest endeavor i've ventured into as a writer, and it still feels surreal to me that i'm writing this now as i am about to post the last chapter. that being said, the biggest thank you to everyone who's shown love to all out of luck, especially the ones who left even just a single-worded comment. with the series having reached its end, it would mean the world to me if you let me know what you think about it / how it was for you <3 thank you so so much!!!

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin @lotusstarr | @junehasnotbeenfound @sugalarity @haechansbbg @sikuthealien @reiniella3 @ita606 @xoxoblueyy @mutsu422 @eyesforbkg @kalulakunundrum @venus-xxoo @lemuhr @pinkpantheris @ashers-playpen @bakugouswh0r3 @certaindreampost @3ve88 @tsumuus @4acoffee @anonymity-222 @lousypotatoes @homeless-clown @sk8wh33l @jungkookslittlecarrothoe @jax-the-oregonian @shosuki @reisore @babylambdietcoke @sleepyyhabii @adherethecomingofage @hakvyxo @squishybabei @gin-n-chronic-illness | @matchat3a @harryzcherry @h0nestly-though @cc1306 @gold24fish @bakukags @zennypiee @wannabewolf @kameko-ko @lovra974 @arc6021 @kooromin @surprisemodafakas @ilovedenk-i @st4ntwic3 @j1tterbugaboo @call-memissbrightside @arael-asuka @bakugosgothhoe @biancatomlinson @reads-stuff-quietly | @js-favnanadoongi @stxrrielle @panikk-attackkk @ordola @simpforeveryone @typsichryle @arsonfrogger | @vitoshi @floverisland @confusedmomfriend @poemzcheng @cheezemanz @cax-per | @rorel1a @astolary @trashyforashy @sunaraii @reisore | @beepboopcowboy @kyluskaye | @moonz33 | @lovesabreeze @reblogwhoreowo

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spacegyaru · 3 days ago

Text

DON'T LOOK AT IT! PT.2

your phone got lost for some reasons. the following day, the sex tape you made with your boyfriend (reo, hiyori, nagi, otoya, yukimiya) was all around the internet. how would they react?

cw: r18+, mdni! mentions of sex tape and implied sex. humiliation. somewhat angst and comfort. a little bit toxic, hyori is a s*dist! reo's parents don't like you!

a/n: this is the second part!! third part will be rin, isagi, chigiri, barou, oliver, and karasu 😌 i placed them last bc i think they're less likely to film one tbh

masterlist | part 1 (shidou, kaiser, bachira, & sae)

reo mikage:

to be honest, this guy is too decent to have a sex tape. but you guys ended up making two or three videos for two reasons— the first reason is because he had a one month business trip and he was out of the country, so you decided to give him something he'd love to see from time to time. second, it's because he wanted to get back to his parents for trying to set him up for another woman while he had a girlfriend, you. that time, he let all his frustrations out, bending you over while kissing your neck, jackhammering you from behind.

when your phone got lost, you didn't think that much of it. reo got you a new one. until one day, your name made it to the headlines. the video you taped with reo, him taking you roughly from behind, was all around the internet. the slicking sounds, the purple hair… it's all there.

you already felt humiliated by the public. reo was comforting you with kisses and even bought you a luxury bag in an attempt to comfort you. he also booked a private plane for the both of you to get away with problems for a while. his pr staff also tried to fix damage control by deleting all copies of it around the internet and tracking whoever posted it. he was caught just within the day.

that didn't stop reo's mother from getting mad tho. while you guys were away, she called you to tell that you should stay away from her son. when reo heard this, he immediately grabbed the phone from you and tossed it on the bed, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“just stop using that phone right now and pay attention to me. also, don't mind whatever my mom tells you. you're the only one for me… and now, the whole world knows that.”

hiori yo:

this guy looks innocent. but don't get fooled. he's a fucking sadist. he'll beat that pussy up and he just knows the right way to do it. you'll have two to three sex tapes per month, and all of them shows how rough he could be on you. when you try to shy away from the camera, he'll hold your jaw so people could see how you look while he hits it from behind.

when your phone got lost, hiyori was the one who brought up those tapes. and he was so calm when he mentioned it, as if he doesn't have a reputation to protect as a part of a huge football team. the next few days, your name made it to the news and the video of you with your legs up to his shoulders while you were moaning his name loudly was everywhere on the internet.

when you started being humiliated by the public, hiyori tried to comfort you. he bought you some ice cream and cuddled with you. you apologized for not taking care of your belongings but he accepted it. he even made a public apology to those who have seen it. suddenly, while you were cuddling, something hard poked between your thighs.

“oi, y/n. ya think that would go unpunished? a lot of people have seen how much of a dirty girl ya are, and i thought ya were for my eyes only.”

nagi seishiro

i'll be pretty honest. this guy only did the sex tape because he was going to be away for a while to train overseas. and he only had one.

it wasn't even you all over his cock. it was you suckin him sloppily while he's all laid back playing with his ps5. your skirt was riding up your ass and only your face can be seen on the camera. while nagi's voice can be heard in the background telling how good you take his cock. his low voice is recognizable, and his moans were heard too. but what made him recognized the most is that you called him ‘sei’ and ‘seishiro’ in the video.

his management immediately told him to deny being part of that vid. but nagi refused to. instead, he issued an apology to the public. he'd rather take the blow rather than publicly admitting that you're a cheater. he even said that it was all his idea but did not emphasize how it happened.

nagi was pretty nonchalant about things. what's the fuss all about if the public already knew you were together? but when he saw how pretty affected you are, boi threw his hands to comfort you. he immediately bought some flowers and decided on a romantic dinner night— which ends up with the both of you playing mario kart or tekken.

“i might look just cool on the outside but i'm kinda worried about you, babe. you need to get out of our room. let's spend some time together, okay? also, you weren't just fucking anyone. you were fucking me, babe. and i’m not just anyone.”

otoya eita

this guy is another menace. of course he's going to have a damn sex tape cuz he's the type to parade all the girls he's rizzed on. so you guys end up recording your sex most of the time, unless it's a spontaneous one.

when you lost your phone, you didn't think that much of it. until you saw eita looking at his phone for too long and staring at the screen. you thought he was about to follow another girl again so you grabbed it, but you saw his twitter timeline containing the one video you took with him a few months ago. you dropped his phone with a shocked face.

you guys ended up arguing because otoya didn't take it as much of a big deal. you were literally telling him, yelling at his face, to make an apology but he didn't want to. he literally said, “why would i be sorry for fucking my own girlfriend?” you almost threw a chair at him. deep inside, he's just proud of himself.

in the end, you ended up giving him the silent treatment, which for him, is worse than an argument with you. so he apologized with flowers, decorated your room, ordered a champagne, prepared a nice dinner— all that with rose petals on the bed and a fine massage from him.

“fine babe. you know i hate it when you ignore me like that. i'll make it up to you okay? let me all do the work tonight and just lay on the bed.”

yukimiya kenyu (i took so much pleasure in this)

this guy is a closeted freak. he looks like a good boy but on the bed… he really does well. you wondered where he learned those things from when he looked so prim and proper. he loves to explore and recording a sex tape is one of the things that he wanted to try. you also agreed because you wonder if your boyfriend would still look good on the camera, even when in a pussy-drunken state. and you know the answer to that? of course he did. he looked very hot.

when you lost your phone, the first one to actually worry is him. he immediately thought of the videos that may come out, especially your sex tapes with him. yukimiya immediately reminded you of that, but you were so complacent and didn't think of that possibility. well, he was right. and your names were written all over the social media.

being respectful and having a good public image, yukimiya immediately apologized and let out a statement, telling people in detail what happened— how your phone got stolen and how it's suddenly uploaded by an anonymous. he even said that his management will take proper measures to track the person behind it and stuff.

at the end of the day, what happened between you is a comfort-fest on the bed. you both snuggled together, while you cried in yukimiya's arms, telling him how much you feel humiliated. he just kept kissing your forehead while continuing to cuddle with you.

“i know, y/n. it's an embarrassing thing, okay? but we're all just humans who make mistakes. we just have to be careful next time, okay? i love you.”

322 notes · View notes

nodoubtily · 1 day ago

Note

riki pool smut? he's too hott for that.... btw just saw your post for ideas

IM SO SORRY THIS CAME SO LATE I HAVE LITERALLY BEEN SO UNMOTIVATED ❤️😭

TW:// sex in the pool DURRRR? SMUT so MDNI. Niki is vegan in this story, but he’s not CRAZY about it (it’s for the sake of the plot, so they can stay back and fuck, y’know?), really long, orgasming inside, unprotected sex (Wrap before you tap) hair pulling, really bad ending. Lmk if I missed anything else. OH and cursing.

Jay is also involved, playing as Reader’s brother.

Perm taglist (ask if you wanna join) - @jyikeu @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby

It’s gonna be a hot ass day. That’s for sure.

So thankfully, the Airbnb your friends, your brother, yourself, and boyfriend are staying at has a pool. If you’re not all out and about, you’re all in the pool, playing every game you guys can think of.

It’s current the third day of your friend-cation, as you all call it. It’s midway through morning and you’re in the kitchen, planning your meals for the day with Jay, your brother.

“We’re going out for dinner tonight.” He tells you, pointing to the blank spot for lunch today. You nod, scribbling ‘out for dinner’ on the blank space. He nods, and he pats your shoulder, before walking to the main space, throwing himself next to all your friends. You turn to the fridge, seeing if you had the ingredients for the brunch when you feel two hands snake around your waist, pressing their front to you, him shoving his face in the crook of your neck.

“Hey baby..” Niki sighs contently, his arms caging around you tighter.

“Good morning, sunshine.” You giggle when you hear him sigh in a dramatic way.

“What are we doing today?” He asks you quietly, still tired, and you point to the list of what you’re eating and the other list of the plans today. His eyes follow your hand and he goes over, pulling you with him. You quickly close the fridge door, not being able to escape the clutch of a 6-foot-you don’t know guy.

You stand in front, him leaning over your shoulder as his hands rest on either side on the counter. He reads over the lists, and he nods. His hand grabs yours, and he leads you to where everyone else is.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Your best friend, Alice, nods to Niki, who raises his eyebrows in a greeting way.

“Morning.” He sighs, holding his arms up, bringing your hand he’s holding up with his as he stretches. You quickly stand on your tippy toes, am reaching up comfortably. Jay snorts at the sight, and you clear your throat. Niki looks at you, then your hand, his eyes widen slightly. “Oh shi-“

“I don’t want to go, baby..” Niki sulks, arms crossed as he sits on the edge of the bed, watching you pick both yours and his outfit for dinner. “Can we just stay here?” He asks for the millionth time.

You sigh for the millionth time. “For the last time. We’re booked for 6, we can’t just decide not to go. Plus, all of us are going.”

“Who said we can’t decide? We’re our own person.”

“My brother. He wants us both to go.” You retort. He scoffs.

“And since when has his word ever stopped us?” His voice drops, and he stands up, striding to you in a few long steps, until you physically feel him breathing down your neck.

“What do you mean?” Your knees shake, and standing on your two feet is more difficult then before.

“He said you’re off limits. We fucked in the backseat of my car,” Niki’s hands rake down your back, before gliding them across your waist, resting them on your hips, grasping at your skin in need. “He said we couldn’t date, but we got together three nights after he said that. He said to be quiet when we’re together. You can’t shut your pretty little mouth.” Niki’s words form a horde of butterflies in your stomach, and you feel yourself becoming wetter.

But you’re still sane. “No, we have to go.” You push through your thick wall of desperation, barely making it as you hand him a small, tight black dress for yourself and a cotton black button up for himself. He groans in frustration.

“Please baby. I don’t even feel that well.” He says.

“But you feel well enough to have sex with me?” You can’t hide the snort that exits your mouth.

“What can I say- you’re pussy is so good. So tight for me.”

“Shut the-“

“I don’t know what to wear. And I can’t trust you to pick a good outfit.” He’s grasping at straws.

“Then why are you letting me?” You retort. He groans again.

“I don’t even like the food we’re getting..” his voice is low, a mumble, meaning he didn’t want you to hear it. But you do, and that’s when you stop in your tracks. Fuck. He’s vegan. And won’t eat meat if he can miss it. And to be honest, you’re still full from brunch and the snacks you’ve been eating throughout the day. You’re not really hungry either. You sigh. He’s won without even knowing it.

You turn to him, making your way. You take the dress and shirt you gave to him from his hands and place them back in the closet.

“What’re you doing?” He asks, curious.

“I forgot you’re vegan.” You say, turning to him. “I’m sorry. I completely forgot.”

“It’s okay. You’ve been busy cooking for majority of the day.”

“Yeah, cooking meat you didn’t fucking touch.” You hold his hands, generating all your love into that simple gesture. “I’m sorry, baby. Forgive me?” You ask. Niki acts as if in deep thought. Then, his eyes click, turning mischievous.

“Maybe…if we stay back.” You roll your eyes. “Please, baby.”

“You’re not going to stop with this, are you?” You ask.

“Face it. You don’t want to go either.” You hate that he’s right.

“Fine! Fine, we’ll stay back. You’re telling Jay though.”

“Easy enough.” Niki shrugs.

“Absolutely not.” Jay deadpans. Niki’s jaw drops.

“Wha—!” Niki groans. “Hyung! Why can’t we?” He asks, confused.

“Oh, cause I want to leave you alone to fuck my sister? No. Nope. Not happening.”

“Why do you think we’re going to fuck. You always think that.” Niki pushes.

“Because. You always fuck.”

“No we do not!” Niki is appalled.

“Not happening, little bro.” Jay pats Niki’s shoulder, before you stop him in his tracks. You holds your phone up to his face, and he reads a message your mother sent.

Mama: Park Jongseong, you are to let your sister and Niki stay home if they want. No one stopped you when you wanted to stay back with your exes, so you have no right to stop Y/N. If she tells me that you continue to do so, do not doubt me for a second. I will drag you by the ear back home. Have fun, and don’t do anything your father would do.

Jay scoffs. “Favouritism. At the finest. Do not deny.” He points at you.

“I’m not. I know I’m the favourite.” You shrug, grabbing Niki‘a hand, leading them out of Jay’s room.

“The water looks really good.” You say, you hand scratching at the other hand. Niki places your towels on the lawn chair closest to the pool.

“Then get in.” Niki shrugs as he finally gets ready himself. He slides his shirt off, throwing it where the towels are.

“It also looks really cold.” You whine out lightly. You hear Niki chuckle behind you, and you leave it, thinking nothing of it.

That is, until he picks you up, holding you, bridal style.

“Niki! Put me down!” You yell, though your arms protectively wrap around his neck, pressing yourself against him in fear of dropping.

“Nah.” He then runs to the edge, jumping into the deep end. Cold water engulfs you, spreading throughout everywhere when you break the call surface of the pool. Your body leaves his quickly, swimming to the surface, where air fills your lungs once more. Niki soon follows, sighing in relief. You hear nothing but the water moving, remembering all the other house inmates are gone out for the night. You push yourself into a swimming position, freestyling your way across to the shallow end, when you stand comfortably.

You’re chilling, until you don’t see Niki, and you call out. Then, with no warning, hands wrap around your legs, hoisting you in the air. He submerges from the water, lifting you with him.

“Niki!” You shrieked, half panicked, but also midway through giggles. “Put me down!”

“Okay.” The sneaky glint in his eyes gave away, and you get thrown back into the water. He comes straight to you, wrapping his arms against you again, strong arms snaking along your waist, holding you up, causing you to tower over him. He presses himself against you, cuddling you as you relax in his hold.

“The water feels lovely.” You say, staring up at the sky that’s darkening from a golden glow to a deep shade of blue, nearing to nighttime.

Niki hums in agreement, his mind elsewhere.

“You okay, baby?” You swipe your hands along his short strands, and he opens his eyes, which were closed as he rested his head against your half-covered breasts.

You wrap your legs around his waist comfortably, and that’s when you feel it.

“Niki-“ your voice cuts off as he begins moving, sitting on the step that runs across the whole pool, fashioned for a seat. You straddle him, your legs resting rigid against his hips. “You’re always hard-“ a moan cuts through your speech when his hands palm your ass cheeks, grinding you against him softly.

“Can you blame me when you’re my girlfriend?” He asks you, his voice soft and low and his eyes pierce through your soul. You find it hard to concentrate on whatever he had just said, as your clit comes directly into contact with his knob, a ridge that causes extra pressure, and your hips move against their own record against that ridge, causing more pleasure for both you and Niki. He quivers, before lowly cursing under his breath.

“Can I fuck you?” He becomes more desperate the longer you grind against him like that. “Baby, please, i need to be inside of you.” And you realise that you can’t find yourself to say no.

That’s how you find yourself bent over the edge of the pool, knees pressed against the step as Niki shuffled closer, his tip teasing your folds. You wiggle your hips, earning a slap to your ass cheek.

“Patience, Baby. We didn’t prep you.” His voice sings through your ears.

“I can take it. Please, Niki baby, just please fuck me- oh—!” You moan out when he slams into you, bottoming out quickly. Your pussy is pulsating, working to accommodate Niki’s cock. His tip already leaking with precum, neither of you waste much time before he begins to move, his hips finding a suitable pace, disturbing the water.

His left hand wraps your hair around it, pulling it while the other palms the concrete, finding stance. “Oh fuck- baby, squeezing me so well.” He groans, feeling your walls clenching around his thick unit. “Going to make me cum so quick.”

The water splashes between him in you, as it moves to make way for Niki’s relentless thrusts as he constantly bottoms out every time, reaching backwards enough to almost pull out just to bottom out once more, driving you crazy to the brink of your orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You announce, your voice shaking as you struggle to stay upright. Niki realises, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pressing your back against him as his thrusts become shallow, brushing against your G-Spot, bringing you so fucking close. Then, without warning, explosions convulse through your cunt. Your thighs clench and shake, and you’re internally for Niki, who’s holding you upright.

Sooner than later, his climax rolled around, and he presses his hips right against your ass, his cock reaching into the deep depths of your pussy, his warm liquid heating you up as it seeps inside. He continuously chants while his orgasm rides out, “Fuckfuckfuckfuck.”

Panting, he pulls out quickly to prevent max overstimulation. He then falls backwards into the water, cock still out and proud as you quickly pull your bikini bottoms up. Filling him, you do the same, holding hands with him under the water.

I SUCK AT ENDINGS

#niki smut #enhypen niki #niki ff #enhypen smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen fic #niki x reader #jay enhypen #enhypen #Anon ask

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meeedeee · 1 day ago

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Calling Your Congresspersons

Not my post but please feel free to copy and paste to share with others

*******************************

FOR THOSE OF YOU LOOKING TO TURN YOUR ANGER INTO ACTION, here's some advice from a high-level staffer for a Senator. Re-posting from a friend of mine:

There are two things that we should be doing all the time right now, and they're by far the most important things.

You should NOT be bothering with online petitions or emailing.

1) The best thing you can do to be heard and get your congressperson to pay attention is to have face-to-face time — if they have town halls, go to them. Go to their local offices. If you're in DC, try to find a way to go to an event of theirs. Go to the "mobile offices" that their staff hold periodically (all these times are located on each congressperson's website). When you go, ask questions. A lot of them. And push for answers. The louder and more vocal and present you can be at those the better.

2) But those in-person events don't happen every day. So, the absolute most important thing that people should be doing every day is calling.

YOU SHOULD MAKE 6 CALLS A DAY:

2 each (DC office and your local office) to your 2 Senators & your 1 Representative.

The staffer was very clear that any sort of online contact basically gets immediately ignored, and letters pretty much get thrown in the trash (unless you have a particularly strong emotional story — but even then it's not worth the time it took you to craft that letter).

Calls are what all the congresspeople pay attention to. Every single day, the Senior Staff and the Senator get a report of the 3 most-called-about topics for that day at each of their offices (in DC and local offices), and exactly how many people said what about each of those topics. They're also sorted by zip code and area code. She said that Republican callers generally outnumber Democrat callers 4-1, and when it's a particular issue that single-issue-voters pay attention to (like gun control, or planned parenthood funding, etc...), it's often closer to 11-1, and that's recently pushed Republican congressmen on the fence to vote with the Republicans. In the last 8 years, Republicans have called, and Democrats haven't.

So, when you call:

A) When calling the DC office, ask for the Staff member in charge of whatever you're calling about ("Hi, I'd like to speak with the staffer in charge of Healthcare, please") — local offices won't always have specific ones, but they might. If you get transferred to that person, awesome. If you don't, that's ok — ask for that person's name, and then just keep talking to whoever answered the phone. Don't leave a message (unless the office doesn't pick up at all — then you can — but it's better to talk to the staffer who first answered than leave a message for the specific staffer in charge of your topic).

B) Give them your zip code. They won't always ask for it, but make sure you give it to them, so they can mark it down. Extra points if you live in a zip code that traditionally votes for them, since they'll want to make sure they get/keep your vote.

C) If you can make it personal, make it personal. "I voted for you in the last election and I'm worried/happy/whatever" or "I'm a teacher, and I am appalled by Betsy DeVos," or "as a single mother" or "as a white, middle class woman," or whatever.

D) Pick 1-2 specific things per day to focus on. Don't rattle off everything you're concerned about — they're figuring out what 1-2 topics to mark you down for on their lists. So, focus on 1-2 per day. Ideally something that will be voted on/taken up in the next few days, but it doesn't really matter — even if there's not a vote coming up in the next week, call anyway. It's important that they just keep getting calls.

E) Be clear on what you want — "I'm disappointed that the Senator..." or "I want to thank the Senator for their vote on... " or "I want the Senator to know that voting in _____ way is the wrong decision for our state because... " Don't leave any ambiguity.

F) They may get to know your voice/get sick of you — it doesn't matter. The people answering the phones generally turn over every 6 weeks anyway, so even if they're really sick of you, they'll be gone in 6 weeks.

From experience since the election: If you hate being on the phone & feel awkward (which is a lot of people) don't worry about it — there are a bunch of scripts (Indivisible.org has some, there are lots of others floating around these day). After a few days of calling, it starts to feel a lot more natural.

Put the 6 numbers in your phone (all under P – Politician.) An example is McCaskill MO, Politician McCaskill DC, Politician Blunt MO, etc., which makes it really easy to click down the list each day.

**If you want to share this, please copy and paste so it goes beyond our mutual friends.**

I have added the following websites:

1. Find your federal and state legislators: Use reps.fyi (directs you to https://www.commoncause.org/find-your-representative/ )

2. Use scripts from 5Calls.org

3. Use scripts from the Americans of Conscience Checklist (updates every 2 weeks) https://americansofconscience.com/checklist/

4. Join a local or virtual group at https://indivisible.org/

#us politics

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covenofagatha · 20 hours ago

Note

ok after the FFF post i think we now need your thought on reader teasing agatha during no nut november.

maybe first they make a bet about whether agatha can even make it through no nut november, and of course agatha is like what do u mean i can’t do it? and so she takes on the challenge.

you then start waking agatha up to the sounds of you fucking yourself with a dildo or smth and she already wants to quit.

you then proceed to tease her nonstop every day, and of course it’s harder for agatha because november has a few more days than february

- 🥕

Well it is only fair that reader gets a little payback for all of Agatha's teasing

You've been waiting ever since finger free February for this and you've been planning

It's a few days before November starts and you casually bring it up to Agatha over dinner. She scoffs it off at first, but then you appeal to her competitive nature: "Oh come on, mommy, you don't think you can last? I did. Guess you can't, though. Such a shame. You're just too desperate for me, aren't you? Can't control yourself at all?"

She takes the bait immediately and is outraged that you would even imply that she wouldn't be able to, and accepts

You two have the most sex you've ever had in the next few days, courtesy of Agatha trying to get out as many orgasms as she can

The first few days of November pass and you're her perfect baby, only making a few dirty remarks here and there and only attempting to brush her cock through her pants a few times

Agatha gets lulled into a false sense of security and thinks that maybe it won't be that hard (pun intended) after all

Until the next morning when she wakes up to hear wet squelching sounds and rolls over to find you with a dildo buried up to the hilt in your cunt, panting

But not just any dildo, no, the one you made with the penis molding kit that is an exact silicone replica of her cock (purposefully for this month - but she doesn't need to know)

So not only is she watching you fuck yourself with it, but she also now has the memory of you on your knees in the shower in front of her, blowing her to a full erection, and then stroking the molding powder over her cock to make the toy

"Fuck, mommy, your cock feels so good inside me," you moan, pumping it fast inside you, and Agatha is instantly hard as a rock, the few days without an orgasm finally catching up to her. She starts to hump the air and wonders how embarrassing it would be if she didn't even make it a week into it

She barely avoids cumming untouched when you orgasm all over the toy

Thus begins you starting to tease her for real

You've never been a big banana fan, but you certainly are now and you make eye contact with her every morning as you slide as much of it as you can take down your throat before gagging (which only makes her harder)

You give her your best "fuck me" eyes every night as you hold a vibrator to your clit, hips bucking, while you beg for her to put her cock inside you. "It's okay, mommy, you can just stop before you cum and it won't count," you tell her, but you both know that the second she gets inside you, she'll blow her load instantly

When she sits at her desk doing work, you saunter over in nothing but lingerie and straddle her lap, claiming you just want to be close to her, but that doesn't stop you from grinding on her rock hard cock through her pants while she grits her teeth and turns red as a tomato

It gets to the point that she's pretty sure if you were to touch her cock with your bare skin, she would fail

"Only four days left," you say cheerily and she grumbles something incoherently. She's been irritated and a little quick-tempered and you love it.

"It's not fair," she says. "November is two days longer than February."

You mockingly pout and suck on a lollipop. "Oh, poor mommy. But just think, on December first, you can fuck me again. God, I can't wait to have your cock inside me. I love when you twitch and pulse and throb and then fill me up with your cum and leaks out of me."

Agatha has to leave the room with a whimper because she's so painfully hard and doesn't trust herself to look at you without cumming right now

That night, you're laying next to her in bed, idly playing with your clit and sliding your fingers into your cunt every now and then. Agatha is making a pointed effort not to look, but you can see how tense she is. It comes to a breaking point when you push your wet fingers into her mouth and she groans before getting up, positioning herself between your legs, and hauling your cunt into her mouth

It's the first time she's touched you since October and you can't help yourself from making louder noises than you're used to because of how good it feels and you're so lost in pleasure that you don't even notice how she's started to grind against the bed

You're so close to an orgasm when she suddenly freezes and pulls back with a strangled sound. Her eyes are wide with panic, face red, and you can see her hips rutting

"Fuck fuck fuck," she chants and a thrill runs through you before her head drops down to rest against your stomach with a groan

When she flops over onto her back, you can see a wet stain on the front of her boxers and you laugh

"Guess since you lost, you can just go ahead and fuck me now," you sigh. "No point in waiting a few more days."

Agatha can't even be mad about it because at least her torture is over

You never fail to remind her that you made it longer than she did

#asks #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut

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alluramiura · 1 day ago

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hyunju nsfw alphabet <3

word count: 939 words

warnings: intended lowercase, afab reader

author’s note: hi tumblr :3 i’ll probably post a poll asking for which character to do next. i’m coming back to this app since i deleted tiktok like a dumbass. anywho. enjoy let me ride your face please hyunju

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

hyunju is incredibly gentle and sweet after sex. even if it wasn’t that rough (which it typically isn’t), she makes sure you’re okay. she would cuddle you for a little, running her fingers through your hair and whispering to you about how good you were for her, before getting up to run a bath, and maybe get you some snacks after.

B = Body part (favorite body part on themself and their partner)

her favorite body part on you is your eyes. she thinks they’re so beautiful, and she thinks there’s nothing more romantic and intimate than looking directly into your eyes while she fucks you. she wants to see all the expressions you make, because you’re gorgeous. she also wants to make sure she’s making you feel good.

her favorite feature on herself is her hands, working in the military she’s very good with her hands and she knows it, and she most definitely uses it to her advantage.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

i headcannon that after a while on hrt, she asks you if she can start cumming in you since hrt typically lowers fertility. if you say yes, it becomes her favorite thing to creampie you when she fucks you.

D = Dirty secret (dirty secret of theirs)

related to the last letter, she has a breeding kink. it’s not so much about the idea of getting you pregnant, more so the idea of filling you with her cum.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

i think she’s had sex a few times before you, but it was a while ago and she’s explored a lot about herself since then, so when you two started dating you both explored each others bodies, preferences and kinks together.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary. it gives her the opportunity to hit your deepest spots, and also the eye contact. as i said before, there’s nothing more intimate to her than looking you in the eyes while she fucks you slow and deep.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous?)

she’s usually very gentle which naturally makes room for some playfulness and slight teasing.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes?)

i believe she is groomed and shaved clean since it’s necessary for tucking.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

she fucking looooovees intimate sex. sometimes after a rough day, she just needs lay you down on the bed gently, strip your clothes off, and give it to you deep and slow. not in a lustful way, she just loves the rawness and closeness, the warmth of your body and holding your hand, whispering how much she loves you. sex was never something she does with just anybody, especially after she started transitioning.

(picture you by chappell roan came on as i started writing this part, and i think that was so fitting lol)

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

she only does it when she really misses you. she’ll grab one of your shirts and inhale it’s scent while stroking her cock slowly and imagining it’s your hand jerking her off.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

praising (giving and receiving), body worship (giving most but also receiving when she really needs it), unnie kink, size difference, brat taming, overstimulation, edging.

L = Location (favorite place to have sex)

she doesn’t really like the idea of having sex with you anywhere other than in the comfort of your home. on that note, she’d be down to fuck you anywhere in your house. but she prefers the bedroom.

M = Motivation (what turns them on?)

nothingggg turns her on more than when you give her that look and call her unnie in that tone. that’s probably one of the few things that gets her a little rough with you. she can’t help how worked up it makes her.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything that contains hurting you physically. she wants to take care of you, not hurt you. the most she’d do is some very light degradation.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving)

she loves eating you out. her eyes would be glued on yours, watching how you react when she adds an extra finger or gives a particularly tantalizing lick to your clit.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

typically gentle as i said before, but if you decide to be a brat she’s more than alright with putting aside the soft dom in her and being rough. and when she’s rough, oh does she ruin you.

Q = Quickies (their opinions on quickies)

she doesn’t mind a quickie. if you wanted to do one she wouldn’t object, but she wouldn’t ask for one on her own. she prefers taking her time with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)

as long as it doesn’t involve hurting you or humiliating you too much, she’s down to try mostly anything at least once.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

she can last a long time, that military service built her stamina up good. she can go for about 5 or 6 rounds before getting tired, but she’s also okay with less if you can’t keep up with that.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

she doesn’t own any toys personally, but she has a few she bought for you and loves to see you use them on yourself as foreplay.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

she usually likes to give you want you want, but if you’ve been misbehaving she’ll tease you and deny you of your orgasms as many times as she needs to until she’s sure you’ve learned your lesson. she’ll tease you in this condescendingly sweet tone with a pout on her face.

“aww, do you want unnie to let you cum, baby?”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what kind of sounds they make)

she doesn’t typically get too loud, she usually lets out short moans that get breathier when she’s close. one in a while, when your wrapping around her just right, she’ll let out louder moans.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

she has a snack drawer next to her bed specifically for aftercare, right above the drawer that contains the sex toys, lube, etc. couldn’t get this out my mind for some reason.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

A (maybe B) cup tits, and a cock that’s about 5 inches soft and around 6 ½ inches hard.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

her sex drive is pretty regular since when you two have sex it lasts a while, she’s good for at most 3 days after that.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

she can manage to stay awake until you sleep, wanting to make sure you’ve fallen asleep peacefully in her arms before going to sleep herself.

#cho hyunju x reader #cho hyun ju #player 120 #squid game x reader #hyun ju x reader #player 120 x reader #alluramiura

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goldenseresinretriever · 18 hours ago

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False Confidence: Chapter 15

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: It’s Family Day at Hard Deck Arena!

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

“Javy, be careful, you don’t want to drop them!” You squawk as you follow Javy into the arena, narrowly dodging the giant duffel that swings behind him, holding his gear. You’d argued that he wouldn’t need it today, given that family day is mostly a free skate, but he said there was nothing wrong with being prepared. He’s got the heavy bag thrown casually over one shoulder, and he’s balancing the brownies, his water bottle, and his keys in his hands. You’re jogging to keep up, carrying your skates in one hand and Roxie in the other behind him. You’re not exactly ecstatic to show off your poor attempt at skating in front of all your new friends, but Javy’s been looking forward to this all week so you’re putting on a brave face for his sake.

Javy leads you to the break room where you’d first been introduced to the team to find it already occupied by a few guys and their families. You see wives, a few babies, and even a few toddlers and small kids running around. Javy sets the trays on some tables set up at the front of the room. You wince slightly as you take in a meticulously crafted charcuterie board and various trays of fancy-looking hors d'oeuvres that look straight out of Pinterest. Suddenly your brownies seem silly, out of place at what’s definitely much more of an adult event than you’d anticipated. They would be a lot more at home at a school bake sale.

“Hey,” you tear your gaze from the table to see Javy giving you a concerned look. “They’re perfect,” he says firmly, like he can read your mind. He reaches over to lace his fingers with yours. “Don’t worry about them,” he reassures you. “You’re not the one that misread the invite.” You're about to tell him that you don’t believe him but don’t get the chance as an arm is thrown around your shoulder, jostling you as a blonde head cranes over your shoulder.

“Oooo, what’d you two bring?” Jake asks as he scans the table. “Oh, fuck yes, brownies!” He whoops, reaching past you to grab a square. “Finally, some real food,” he grumbles around the brownie that made a beeline to his mouth. “Roadie these are the best, I’m so glad you could come!” The arm around your shoulders squeezes you in an awkward hug.

“Jake!” The three of you look up towards the voice to see Bugs frowning at him. She places her own trays down on the table as she shakes her head. “You have no self-control you know,” she chides as the frown dissolves. Jake gives her a chocolatey grin in response and she rolls her eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, I made sure they were healthy. I know you and Penny work really hard on their dietary plans, so I tried to keep them as nutritious as possible.” You pipe up in an attempt to further dissolve the situation.

“Oh!” Bugs looks surprised and you wonder if you’ve made yet another blunder until the expression melts into a huge grin. “I was upset that he ran straight in here without me when I asked him to wait.” She gives Jake a pointed look and he has the good sense to look chagrined. “It wasn’t because of the brownies, I promise! He’s fine to eat brownies, they all are, but I really appreciate your attention to that concern. Anything helps, and I really appreciate it.”

“I’m sorry, Bunny, but I was just so excited to see my best friend,” Jake pouts at Bugs before giving you another squeeze.

“I thought I was your best friend,” Javy says with a playful scowl.

“Nah, you can’t cook for shit, I’m trading you in for Roadie.” He ruffles your hair gently as your cheeks heat in response.

“Javy helped make the brownies, actually. He did a whole tray himself.” You pipe up in support of your boyfriend and Javy sticks his tongue out at Jake.

“And they didn’t burn? Damn, Roadie, you really are a miracle worker.” He finally releases you from the hug, turning back to his girlfriend.

“Where are the dogs?” He asks and she puts her hands on her hips.

“Where do you think, mister? You ran straight in here without helping, they’re still in the truck. Hopefully, they’re destroying your seats as retribution.”

Jake disappears out the door with a muttered “fuck” under his breath and you swear you can see a tiny cartoon whoosh of smoke in his wake.

“Who’s the Roadrunner, now?” Bugs jokes and Javy chuckles as he heads out the door after his best friend. Roxie squirms in your arms and you set her down as Bugs uncovers a tray of what looks like bacon-wrapped shrimp. She follows your gaze and laughs nervously, “I know I’m supposed to be a better influence, but Jake insisted on them.” You wave her concern off.

“They look great,” you reassure her, glancing around for plates and napkins. “Do we have…” Bugs heaves a sigh, shaking her head as she scans the room.

“Bob and Dragon were supposed to bring that stuff, I expected them to be here by now.”

“I can run to the store,” you offer.

“No need,” a voice interrupts and the two of you turn to where Bradley enters the break room. Zam’s behind him, armed with grocery bags full of serving supplies.

“Rule number one, Bugs? If you want something done on time? Do it yourself. And never, NEVER, put the boys in charge of utensils.” Zam says as she sets the bags on the ground and starts unpacking them at one end of the table.

“Noted.” Bugs nods with a chuckle and barks echo down the hallway, signaling Jake’s return. Roxie perks up and heads out the door. You’re torn over chasing after her, but Javy should be with Jake.

Bradley’s looking towards the door with an uncomfortable expression on his face. “The dogs come to family day?” He mutters under his breath and Zam rolls her eyes, clapping him on the arm.

“What’s wrong, Bear? You afraid of a few dogs?” You can see the humor glinting in her eyes at Bradley’s discomfort.

“No,” he grumbles as the doorway explodes in a mass of fur. You don’t realize you’ve been hit until you’re staring at the ceiling, your face is being covered with slobber, a heavy weight settled on your chest. You let out a soundless gasp of surprise as your lungs heave at the squish on them. You hear some yelling before the weight alleviates and you’re catching your breath, still staring at the ceiling until a familiar wet nose nudges at your cheek, concerned.

“I’m okay, Roxie, it’s okay.” You assure the dachshund as you sit up, your head spinning slightly as you readjust.

“Meep, are you okay?” Javy sounds genuinely worried as he drops down next to you, a hand at your back supporting you. Jake looks guilty as he maintains a hold on the collar of a frankly enormous dog. She’s a gigantic mass of copper fur and her eyes are dancing between the excitement that bowled you over and confusion at being held back.

“She didn’t mean to hurt you, she just gets excited,” Jake apologizes and you wave him off.

“It’s okay, I’m fine. Just a little surprised is all.” You assure him as Javy runs a tentative finger over the back of your head, checking for a bump where you hit it on the ground. You wince as he presses on a particularly sensitive area and he waves Bugs over. She squats down on your other side. Taking over the prodding from Javy. “I’m fine, really. It’s just a little spot, I’m fine I swear.” You feel your cheeks heating in embarrassment from all the attention being brought to you.

“Why don’t you move this to your office, Bugs?” Bradley suggests, brown eyes meeting yours with a look of understanding. He comes over and offers you a hand up, carefully easing you to your feet. You squeeze his hand in thanks as Javy and Bugs lead you out of the room.

“Do you want me to carry you, Meep?” You wave him off.

“I’m fine, really.”

“Bugs you have to check her for a concussion.” Javy insists and Bugs nods, leading you to an examination room.

“I’ll take it from here, Javy, you head back.” He hesitates but Bugs isn’t going to budge so he eventually relents. When you enter the room, you feel a little silly taking a seat on the examination table.

“I don’t have a concussion,” you say as soon as Bugs closes the door. She turns to you with a smirk.

“Oh, I know. Those boys are just a bunch of big babies, so it’s best to indulge them.” She sits down on the stool across the room. “Well just hang out here for a bit and then go back.” She opens a drawer and pulls out a ziplock bag. “You want a gummy bear?” You take one and the two of you sit in silence for a moment. “Do you want some ice for your head? I know it’s nothing, but it could help with potential swelling.”

You shake your head. “It already feels fine. I was more surprised than hurt, honestly.”

Bugs heaves a sigh. “I’m always telling Jake he needs to keep Pudding on a leash, especially when he brings her here. She just gets so excited when she’s around people, especially new ones.” You nod in understanding.

“Thanks again for making the brownies, I really appreciate you putting in the thought to make them more healthy, and for actually making something fun. So many of the other WAGs just make cocktail food and forget that these guys play a game for a living. They have the collective maturity of a five-year-old.” The two of you giggle at that. “Honestly, that’s probably why you’re so good with Javy.” She points out. “You do this for a living.”

“I’d say he’s more like a puppy than anything else.” You admit. “He’s got good intentions, he’s just bad at showing it.”

“Thanks for being patient with him. I know it’s not easy, but you’re right, he’s a good guy at his core, you just have to be willing to spend the time to see it.” You smile at Bug’s words.

“I’m not exactly a cakewalk either,” you admit, thinking about how much of your antics Javy has had to put up with over the past few weeks.

Bugs shrugs and you see a faraway look in her eye. “None of us are, it’s what makes us people. All we have to do is find the right kind of people who're willing to handle all our bumps and bruises.” She’s right, you realize. You’d been so nervous to be yourself around Javy at first, trying your best to hide your fears and anxieties. And while they didn’t make you the easiest person to deal with, Javy had been nothing but patient with you. He literally rode through a panic attack with you on your first date. And by some miracle, he still wanted to be with you. There were plenty of people that would be easier for him to be with, and yet he’d chosen you. “Just because it’s difficult, it doesn't mean you’re not worth loving,” Bugs says, eyes soft. “Jake taught me that. And I’d bet that Zam taught Bradley that too. And if Javy’s not trying to show you that in his own roundabout way, then maybe he’s gone headfirst into the boards one too many times. I, for one, love having you as a part of our little family.” You feel your cheeks heat over Bugs’s sweet and heartfelt words.

“I’ve never really had a group of friends before,” it comes out less of a blurt and more of a quiet admission. “So it’s overwhelming, having so many people express interest in me all of a sudden. But just because I’m having trouble processing it, doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it. You’ve all been so nice and welcoming and I really am thankful for you all.”

“This world is a lot for anyone,” Bugs says with a tired smile, “it’s hard enough without having to navigate it alone. That’s what draws everyone together, I think. The world of professional athletes can be so far removed, and the minute you get involved with one, whether that’s as a family member, a friend, or a partner, you’re dragged right along into that world whether you like it or not. Zam and I already work in this, but at least we had a choice when we decided to fully step into the spotlight. You didn’t get that choice. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”

You remember the horror in your stomach when you found out about the photos of you and Javy first went viral. You’d been sorely tempted to just call in sick for the rest of the day and lock yourself in your apartment for the rest of your days. Even after you’d started dating Javy, you’d found yourself constantly looking over your shoulder expecting photographers to have found you, desperate to pry open your personal life and expose it for the world to see. You were hyper-aware of the way people looked at you, from strangers at the grocery store to your coworkers to your students’ parents. You already went through your daily life fearing the attention and eyes of others, but your overnight exposure to the world had just amplified that. “It was, but all of you made it worth it,” you admit. “It felt like my world was ending for a second there, but having a support system really helped me get back on my feet. And sure, it’s not an ideal situation, but I’m never going to fault Javy for that. He’s doing what he loves and I know how that feels. There’s no better feeling. And this is just a small price to pay to have him, and all of you.”

Bugs’s smile is tender, “you really like him don’t you?”

You feel your cheeks heat in response as well as over the obvious word substitution that does little to diminish its weight in your mind, before nodding shyly. “Believe me, I’m just as surprised as anyone, but yeah, yeah I do.”

Before you Bugs can respond, a knock comes at the door to the office and Nat sticks her head into the room. “Sorry to break up the party, ladies. How’s your ‘concussion’ doing Roadie?” She rolls her eyes as she says this and you giggle waving off her concern.

“Nothing the curative properties of gummy bears and some girl talk can’t cure,” Bugs says as Nat lets herself in. She perches on Bugs’s desk, taking a gummy bear from the bag that Bugs holds out. “What’s up?”

Nat waggles her eyebrows suggestively, “There’s a dark and mysterious man asking for you in the break room.” Bugs’s eyes light up.

“Charlie! He actually came!” Nat’s eyes bug out of her head as she almost drops the gummy bear she has between her teeth.

“That broody hunk is your brother?” She asks, shocked. Bugs rolls her eyes.

“Keep that up, and I’ll tell him you said that,” she says pointedly and Nat’s cheeks pinken slightly, “I better go find him before Jake says something stupid to him,” she hurries back out into the hallway.

“So, Bugs’s brother?” You arch a curious eyebrow at Nat who rolls her eyes and chews her gummy bear loudly. When you don’t give up the look, she shrugs dramatically,

“In my defense, the family resemblance is not there. At least Bugs and Tucker look related!”

“And you think he’s cute?” You push and she barks out a laugh, shaking her head at you.

“Look at you, Little Miss Nosey, where’d she come from?” You shrug, a smile creeping up the corner of your mouth.

“I guess I just hang out with you too much,” you muse and she lets out a faux gasp.

“Roadie, how dare you!” The two of you explode into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, I’m fine, so let’s get back out there, I need to see your broody hunk,” you hold out your hand to Nat who lets out a groan.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. Not really.”

“Here I was thinking you’d be able to fix Javy, and he just turned you into him.” She bemoans as you drag her towards the door to the office, rolling your eyes.

***

Nat manages to escape your hold and disappears into the labyrinth that’s the hallways of the arena so you find yourself walking around, enjoying the silence, and trying to familiarize yourself with the layout. Most people are floating between the break room where the food is set up and the rink itself as the first few people have started skating. You know you’ll have to head that way eventually, so you’re about to make your way in that direction when you remember that you wanted to try one of Javy’s brownies before they’re all gone. As you approach the room, you’re surprised to find it’s quiet. You must have lost track of time. You duck in, making a beeline to the snack table, planning to just duck in and grab the brownie before hurrying over to the rink to catch up with the others so you don’t see the figure in the corner until his voice catches you off guard.

“Roadie, thank goodness, help me, please.” You whip around, eyes wide in surprise, and you blink slowly as you take in Bradley’s desperate features where he’s seated in a corner by himself. You arch an eyebrow in question before his frantic eyes glance downward, guiding your gaze to where Jake and Bugs’s pitbull puppy, Taz, is draped over his shoe, looking up at him with blue eyes full of anticipation.

“Bradley you scared me, I didn’t think there was anyone still in here,” you make your way over to where he’s sitting, your brownie forgotten for the moment. “What’s wrong?” His face is pinched in distress but you can’t see what could be causing him discomfort. “Is it a muscle cramp or something? Should I get Bugs?” Your brows furrow in concern as Bradley’s eyes widen in horror at the suggestion.

“No, no you don’t need to get Bugs, I just…” his voice trails off and his gaze shifts again to the puppy lounging on his shoe. The tips of Bradley’s ears and the tops of his cheeks are starting to pinken. “Can you just,” he clears his throat as the pink starts to blossom into an embarrassed red. “Can you get it to move?”

“It?” You frown in confusion before you realize what he’s talking about. “Wait, Taz?” Bradley nods furiously even as his blush deepens. “What’s wrong, are you allergic or something?” You examine the red splotches on Bradley’s as he shakes his head.

“I just, I don’t… It won’t stop following me.” You have to hold in the surprised laugh that bubbles up in your throat. “Ever since it got here, it’s been following me. And then I sat down and now I can’t get up.” You purse your lips together to hide the smile threatening to split across your face. Bradley’s a big guy, one of, if not the biggest guy on the team. You’ve watched him shove other men his size around like they’re nothing, and here he is, glued to his seat by a puppy not much bigger than his hand that’s lying on his foot.

“So you just want me to get him to move?” You ask and Braldey nods furiously. You squat down then, reaching out to scratch the tiny puppy’s head. He rolls over onto his back, still draped over Bradley’s shoe and you scoop him up into your arms effortlessly. As dogs go, the Seresin dogs are some of the sweetest that you’ve met. They wouldn’t hurt a fly. “There you go, big guy,” you coo at Taz. “You want to hang out with me for a little bit? I think Bradley needs a break.” The puppy squirms in your arms, tail wagging as he licks at your cheeks enthusiastically. You turn back to Bradley as Taz gets comfortable, “consider yourself a free man,” you say and he gives you a thankful look. “So you’re not a dog person, huh?”

You think you see him try to suppress a shudder. “Not really, no. I was raised by a single mom so between her job and having to race me around to hockey stuff, we didn’t really have time for pets.”

You nod. “My parents didn’t like pets, either. I had fish a few times growing up, but nothing bigger than that. Puppies are just big softies, though. They just want love,” you pause to kiss Taz on his tiny forehead. “So no dogs, how about other animals?”

Bradley shrugs, “I don’t mind cats. My godmother has one, but I think he’s still warming up to me. He doesn’t really like anyone except her. Bob has a cat too, but she’s terrifying. She’s one of those breeds that’s huge, so she doesn’t really feel like a cat. So, I don’t mind cats, but I’m not sure they like me.”

“Have you tried not frowning at them?” He gives you a look of surprise like hadn’t expected you to crack a joke but you just shrug and give him a small smile.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Animals are extremely aware of our emotions, so if you frown at them, they probably don’t think of you as a friend.” Bradley considers your words for a moment before nodding curtly.

“I’ll try it.” Your smile widens softly.

“Can I ask you another question?” You ask carefully. You haven’t had a whole lot of chances to get to know Javy’s defense partner and something’s been bothering you for a while now. Bradley gives you a wary nod.

“Why don’t you and Javy get along?” Bradley lets out a heavy sigh and you feel nerves twist in your stomach. Maybe you should have just asked Javy, but you wanted to get both sides of the story. “Sorry if I’m putting my nose where it doesn’t belong, but you’re partners, right? I’d think that would be easier if you were friends.” It sounds so childish when you say it out loud but you spend every day helping kids with conflict resolution, so you can’t help but want to help Javy and Bradley with this. You know Javy’s a good guy and you get the feeling that his brooding partner isn’t much different.

“No, you’re right.” Bradley sighs deeply. “We should be closer. I try not to let it affect the way I play, but I don’t think I’m as good at it as I think I am.” You nod, silently encouraging him to continue. “I’ve been in this league a long time, twelve years. And even before that, I’ve been playing hockey as long as I can remember, and I’ve seen a hundred guys like Javy. They let the power the world gives them get to their head. They live life like they’re untouchable like there won’t ever be consequences to their actions, even when they play a game where there always is.” He has a good point. When you’d first been introduced to them, you’d been perplexed by the concept of penalties, power-plays, and penalty kills, but as rough-and-tumble as hockey is, there are consequences to a player’s actions that directly affect the outcome of the game. “And while I’ve seen some guys get off scot-free, I’ve also seen guys who get burned and burned bad. They ruin their lives or worse, ruin someone else’s and walk away unscathed.”

“When I was playing in Philadelphia, we had this rookie join the team. And these rookies, they’re these 18-year-old, fresh-faced kids who get handed a salary that’s more money than they know what to do with and get thrust into a world where they’re essentially celebrities. They have money, they have power, and they run around like a kid in a candy store, testing the limits of those things. Anyway, this kid, he’d been a hotshot in college and it wasn’t a matter of whether he got drafted to the NHL, just a matter of what team. He had an ego the size of a truck and didn’t have a lick of sense in his head.” Bradley chuckles, his voice sounding almost fond.

“My coach knew that, however, and he had this kid move in with me. And I hated him. He was so young and fresh and I didn’t want to have to come home after a long day and play parent. And yet, I did. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to wrangle him and get some sense in his head. It wasn’t easy by any means. There were even nights that I locked him out of the house for staying out too late, and it started affecting the locker room. And of course, he tried tattling to the coaches. I thought it was over for me, honestly. Coach called me into his office one day and I thought I was getting traded or something, but instead, he thanked me. He said ‘he doesn’t appreciate it now, but he has no idea how good he has it.’ He was right of course. We worked things out, eventually.” Bradley pauses, a soft smile on his lips. “And now he’s one of my best friends.” You smile too and you can see the fondness in Bradley’s eyes. “You know, just the other day he called me and he said he asked our coach if he could take in one of the rookies next year.”

“So that’s why you’re tough on Javy?” You ask, softly. He nods, turning to look at you.

“I know he’s a good guy, even if I don’t show it. And he’s a good player, better than me, but he’s not going to change if I tell him that.” You nod in understanding. “Well, that, and he won’t stop flirting with my girlfriend.” Bradley scowls and you laugh at that. “I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but it still pisses me off.”

“That’s fair. The player you were talking about, what’s his name?”

“Wyatt Eaton, he still plays for Philadelphia. You’ll probably get a chance to meet him the next time the Flyers come to town.”

“I’d love that,” you say and Bradley returns your smile.

“You've been good for him,” Bradley says and you feel your cheeks heat at the compliment. “I still stand by the fact that you deserve someone better than him, but as long as you’re happy, I’m rooting for the two of you.” You smile shyly, bumping your shoulder against his.

“I am. Thanks, Bradley. And thanks for taking care of Javy, I really appreciate it.” He just nods in response. “We should probably get to the rink. Can you grab me a brownie? I want to make sure I get one of Javy’s before they’re gone, and my hands are kind of full.” Bradley goes over to the snack table and you follow still carrying Taz.

“So Javy actually made these?” He sounds suspicious.

“Under my supervision, don’t worry, but yeah he did.” You can’t help the pride in your voice as Bradley cuts off two pieces, wrapping one in a napkin before biting into the other. Your stomach drops as you wait for his reaction. He hums thoughtfully, nodding quietly.

“Not bad, Machado, not bad.” He says and you grin. “Alright, let’s go.”

***

When the two of you make it to the rink, you see that most people are already skating. You see the guys cheering as Zam skates gracefully across the ice, jumping and spinning with the practiced perfection of a figure skater. Bradley’s eyes are on her the moment you enter the rink, a smile on his lips whether he realizes it or not. You deposit Taz where Pudding and Roxie are lying together in the visitors’ bench area before coming back to where Bradley’s pulling on his skates with a practiced ease you’re slightly jealous of. You sit down on the bench next to him, reaching for your skates that Javy already brought over. They still feel clunky as you awkwardly shove your feet into them. You’re sure they’ll be better once you break them in.

Bradley’s voice startles you, “Machado, stop gawking and come help your girl.” Your cheeks heat as Javy’s head whips around and then he’s whizzing towards the bench.

“Meep! You made it!” You’re still shocked by how easily he swings himself over the boards instead of using the tiny door at one end. “Here, let me help!” He drops to his knees in front of you and your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“I can do it, Javy,” you try to protest but he just gives you a sweet grin.

“I know, but I want to.” Well, who are you to stop him, then? You awkwardly wait as he guides your feet into the skates and laces them up like he did last time. “Alright, Meep,” he claps a hand on your ankle, “you ready for this?” His tone is jovial but his eyes are cautious, searching yours for doubts. You swallow hard, trying to banish the butterflies from your stomach.

“You won’t let me fall, right?” You whisper and Javy’s smile softens.

“Never,” you nod, then, holding out your hands to him.

“Okay, I’m ready.” He stands, then, carefully helping you to your feet before guiding you to hold onto the boards while he swings over and then he holds your hands as you clomp over to the tiny door and nudge it open with your hip. Your legs wobble as you step onto the ice. Whoops and cheers explode from the other side of the rink and you look up to see your friends watching you. Nat skates over, face beaming.

“Roadie, you made it! Look at you!” Her excitement is infectious and you find yourself smiling. She holds out her hand you give her one of yours so now you’re anchored between her and Javy. They lead you as you skate over to the others.

“Looking good, Roadie!” Jake calls out as you reach the group where they're waiting for you.

“You’re looking much better than I was the first time I tried,” Josie points out, pride shining in her eyes. “I fell on my face in front of all of Reuben’s friends because I got cocky.” She winces at the memory.

“Yeah, Roadie, you’re a natural!” Zam pipes up. “You’re sure you haven’t skated before?” You shake your head.

“Not before last time, no.”

As you chat with the others and catch up as you skate along with them, holding Javy’s hand in yours, you feel your self-consciousness slowly start to melt away with all the kind words and camaraderie. Bugs was right, this community is important. You were right too, as hard as the past month has been for you, it was worth it to have a group of friends like this. They were more than just friends, this felt like a family and you were glad to have it.

A/N: Well now I miss the Philly boys 😭

#false confidence // goldenseresinretriever #fc // goldenseresinretriever #san diego dogfighters au #san diego dogfighters #san diego dogfighters hockey au #top gun maverick #top gun maverick hockey au #tgm #javy machado x you #javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado x you #javy coyote machado x reader #javy coyote machado #javy machado #no use of y/n

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athenagc94 · 2 days ago

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Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 5

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Also posting on AO3 which you can find here.

Might have to take a few days off so I can catch up on some writing. I am very happy with the direction this story is taking. (If you couldn't tell, this is more of a slow burn piece because I can't imagine Jason as anything but someone who yearns.)

TW: Minor depictions of violence

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 5

You dropped your letter off the following morning before heading to your first class of the day. The first two weeks at Gotham University passed in a blur as you tried to orient yourself. You liked school when you were a kid. It distracted you from the harsh realities of the world. College was a different beast entirely, especially one as prestigious as this.

It was hard not to feel othered here. Other students came from old families, ones with money and prestige. You recognized some of their faces from interviews or social media. It was their seats that went vacant in class. They had nothing to prove. There were no consequences when you had money to throw at a problem.

You settled in your seat of your history class. From Goddesses to Witches: An Overview of Women’s History. With a title like that, how could you not sign up for it? There were a lot of cool classes here, and you wanted to take them all, but there were only so many hours in the day.

The blonde who usually sat on your right had already arrived. Her purple hoodie was branded with the University logo, though you don’t recall the school store selling purple apparel. She offered a friendly smile as you sat. You failed to return it as you sifted through your bag.

Sure, you wanted to make friends. It would be nice to find like-minded people who liked to discuss classic literature and the relevance of the oxford comma, but you weren’t entirely sure where to start.

Returning a smile might have been a smart move, but the moment had passed. Your table mate shifted her attention to her phone, so you decided to do the same.

A text awaited you from your manager: Rosa quit last night. I need you to come in tomorrow night to cover a party.

You suppressed a groan. Seriously? Rosa had wanted to quit for a while, but now it fell to you to pick up the slack. You shot back a quick text though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference: I have a night class.

Bubbles appeared instantly.

Shit.

His response was exactly what you expected: I wouldn’t be asking if we had options. I hired two new waiters that need a veteran to show them the ropes. You’re the best I have.

Flattery would get him nowhere, but you’d be stupid to turn down an extra shift—especially as an event lead. That role usually went to Rosa who had a kid to consider. Now, the title would shift to you, and the boost to your salary would reflect it.

With a defeated sigh, you replied: I’ll be there.

I’ll send you the details tonight. You’re a lifesaver, he shot back.

Hardly, but you weren’t about to argue. This decision was entirely selfish on your part. If you did this, you’d have a valid argument to ask for Christmas off in a few months.

Your professor arrived and class began. As she talked about your assigned reading, which you’d already finished and annotated the night prior, your mind wandered as you considered your options. Skipping one class wasn’t the end of the world. It was a philosophy class that didn’t count toward your major, but allowing this set a dangerous precedent. Your boss got what he wanted this time. What would stop him from trying again?

Some students might get away with skipping class, but you weren’t one of them.

Glancing back at the blonde, you noticed meticulous notes she’d started in glittery purple ink. She was also in your philosophy class, though you didn’t sit next to each other.

In hindsight, maybe you should have returned that smile.

Your fingers drummed the table. It’s not like you were asking for a lot if she was already taking notes. She might be cool to talk to, to hang out with. Friendships had blossomed for less.

Or maybe you were asking for too much?

Ask for notes and leave things there. After years of doing things for yourself, it felt like cheating to rely on the kindness of a stranger like this. Not to mention, you were a little rusty at making new friends. The ones you had came from work and the shared trauma of working in catering.

Do you even know how to make friends?

You warred with your pride until the professor dismissed you. The blonde hopped out of her chair, swung her bag over her shoulder in one fluid motion, and hurried out before you mustered the courage to speak. You were moving before you realized it, abandoning your bag to hurry after her.

“Hey! You in the purple. Wait up.”

It wasn’t the best identifier, but she stopped anyway, peering over her shoulder. Her surprise gave way to something friendlier as she grinned. “That’s me.”

You approached, your heart pounding. “So, I hate to ask this, but I got called into work tomorrow night. Since you’re in my philosophy class, I was wondering if you could take notes for me?”

“Yeah, no problem,” she said as she pulled out her phone, “What’s your number? I can text you a picture of them once class let’s out tomorrow night.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I can just grab them when I see—”

“Don’t sweat it. Professor Edwin is an ass. He failed me last year because I slept through our final exam and refused to let me retake it for partial credit. Like, come on man, it’s not my fault I overslept. I’m not going to let anyone fall victim to his shit if I can help it.”

How did that make him an ass? You almost asked, but she shoved her phone in your face and continued, “I’m Steph, by the way. Pre-med.”

You introduced yourself as you punched your number into her phone. “Writing and Classics,” you offered as you handed her phone back.

“Radical.” She gave you a quick once over. “I’m thinking red.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what color I’ll write the notes in. Something about your aura just screams it, ya know?”

You did not. “Black ink is fine too.”

Steph looked at you like you had just suggested slaughtering a small child instead. “Absolutely not. Why would I do that when the world is such a colorful place? I know we live in Gotham, but that doesn’t mean we have to abstain from happiness.” Her phone beeped in her hand, and she gasped. “Crap, I gotta get to class, but I’ll send you a text later.” She hurried off, leaving you to stare after her in disbelief.

Huh.

Maybe making friends was easier than you thought.

***

Your manager failed to mention the party was at Wayne Manor.

Deep down, you knew it didn’t matter. You had catered dozens of his parties over the years, but that was before you accepted his money like a sellout. How working for him was any different, well, you weren’t exactly sure—it just was.

Anxiety bubbled in your belly as you lit the food warmers on the banquet table along the far wall of the sitting room. Every so often, you’d glance over your shoulder like you expected Bruce Wayne to step out of the shadows and yell at you for skipping class.

This was stupid. Bruce Wayne had no idea who you were beyond a name on an application. He didn’t care that you skipped class. Students skipped all the time. Hell, your first letter probably hadn’t even reached his desk.

Still, a small part of you disliked the power he had over you.

“Excuse me.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you whipped around to face the elderly butler who’d let you in that evening to set up. He quirked a wispy eyebrow, almost amused.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Master Wayne asked me to check in with your team to ensure you have everything you require.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks as you tucked your lighter away. “I’m good on the food end, but I should check with our bartender to make sure. How many guests are we expecting again?”

“Fifty, ma’am.”

“Perfect. I’ll be right back.”

This was a more intimate affair than what you were used to, but intimate usually meant easy.

You tasked the new hires with preparing platters of hors d’oeuvres in the kitchen. They arrived in ill-fitting uniforms and messily knotted hair. They also seemed more interested in their phones than listening to you. If they made it through tonight, you’d be impressed.

Catering was lucrative, especially when the owner never turned a job down. Not a single one, even if the client was far from reputable. Staff turnover was unreal because of it, but you didn’t mind if you got paid at the end of the night (and the mob paid very well for discretion). You had a rule. Keep your head down and do your job. People largely ignored you as long as you did.

It was the same here, among the Gotham elite. No one looked at your face or bothered to learn your name.

You ducked inside the kitchen where Mark, the bartender, sorted through a crate of liquor. Several platters of half-finished hors d’oeuvres sat on the counter, but the new hires had disappeared.

Your eye twitched. “Where are they?”

Mark looked up from his crate. A few strands of strawberry blonde hair fell into his eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair and held the pose to show off the carve of his bicep. It was a well-practiced motion that made the ladies swoon. You have been one of those ladies before you learned he used that move on everyone.

“They mentioned a smoke break and left out the back.”

You scoffed. “Great.”

“Starting to feel a little sympathy for Rose, aren’t ya?”

“Shut up.” You crossed the room to lay out the platters yourself. “Do you need anything? The butler asked.”

Mark whistled softly. “I wish I was rich enough to have a butler.”

“Who knows? You might finally get a sugar momma if you play your cards right.”

“That’s the goal. You could find yourself a sugar daddy if you tried.”

“Hard pass.” You’d accepted enough charity in your life. No one but the Red Hood knew about the scholarship, and you wanted to keep it that way. Accepting handouts went against your morals, and you didn’t want people calling you a hypocrite—even that was exactly what you were.

“I should go track those assholes down,” you grumbled as you finished one of the platters, “I don’t think they’ll last an hour.”

Mark snorted. “Have a little more faith. I bet they can make it to the end of the night.”

You wiped your palms off on the front of your apron. “I don’t bet on anything.”

“Lame.”

You left out the back door to search for your servers. What were their names again? Brian and Jon? That sounded right, but if it was wrong, you weren’t going to feel bad about it. They had spoken less than a dozen words to you since arriving at the manor. You rounded the corner to find one of them with a burning cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Where the other one?”

Jon/Brian (you couldn’t be pressed to tell them apart) glanced up from his phone, his blatant disregard for the job palpable. “Brendan took a lap to stretch his legs.”

Brendan. Fine. Brendan and Jon.

“He’ll have a chance to stretch his legs once the party begins. Find him and get your asses back inside.”

“Bitch,” he grunted as he flicked his cigarette at her feet. He stalked off to find Brendan.

Men, you seethed to yourself as you stomped out his cigarette.

At least Rosa was fun to talk to. That and she made sopaipillas for your birthday. Shame she had to go and quit on you.

You returned to the kitchen as the butler stepped inside. He noted the half-finished platters with an unimpressed sniff. “Would you like some help? Our guests are due to arrive any minute.”

Your shoulders sagged. “Yeah, that would be great.”

An hour later, the party was in full swing, and you were counting down the hours before you could go home and work on your readings for class. You wove through the guests with a full platter of bacon-wrapped water chestnuts balanced in one hand. Some people grabbed them before you had a chance to offer, while others waited for you to present them with a vacant smile and a pleasant, “Would you like one?”

It was automatic at this point. You didn’t think. Jon and Brendan on the other hand…

You searched for them in the crowd, but it was difficult with all the bodies crammed in one room. Fifty people were just shy of too many people for the spacious sitting room, but no one else seemed to mind. You shared a look with Mark, who mixed drinks at the bar in the corner.

You motioned to the crowd, and he shrugged, already guessing your question. He hadn’t seen them either.

Perfect.

Your boss would have hell to pay in the morning because this was ridiculous.

A man knocked into your shoulder as he passed, nearly spilling your platter in the process. You swore as dove to save it. As you did, your attention snagged on familiar tattoo that painted the guest’s knuckles a deep crimson. You’d seen it before, but only ever on the east side and when you did, you knew it was time to run the other way.

A member of the Blood Knuckles—here at Wayne Manor.

Your mind raced as you made a beeline for the bar. Mark passed a glass of red wine to a woman with flushed cheeks. She giggled at nothing as she dropped a crisp twenty in his tip jar.

When she stumbled off to join her partner, you set your platter down and said, “Head back to the kitchen.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“Just do it. I can explain everything later. I need to find the—”

A shot went off behind you. Screams rippled through the crowd as you hit the ground. The Blood Knuckle stood with his back to you. He raised his gun to the ceiling, shards of crystal raining down from the chandelier. Three more men removed guns from their waistbands, each donning the brand of their gang.

Bruce Wayne stood near the fireplace, a trembling hand raised as if he were soothing a wild beast. He wore his usual black on black, his jaw set with a severe expression as he stared the gun down its barrel. “Woah there,” he said as he tucked a younger boy behind his back, “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Neither do we. Well, not with most of you anyway.” He turned his attention to but an aging man in the corner with thinning hair. “Oscar Franz, our boss has business with you.”

Oscar staggered back, the color leeching from his face. “W-Who sent you?”

“Oh, I don’t kill and tell.” He leveled the gun at him. “But we have a few questions first.”

Your ears rang as you scanned the room, weighing your options. If only you’d noticed sooner, you might have gotten Mark and you out of the room before the Blood Knuckles revealed themselves. They usually kept to their territory, so seeing them this far outside of East Gotham unsettled you. They weren’t usually hitmen, and you weren’t too keen to watch a man die before your eyes tonight.

Slowly, you got to your feet and used one hand to flip your platter. It clattered noisily to the ground, drawing the attention away from the target. The hitman locked eyes with you, and you recognized him instantly.

Brendan—now dressed in a tuxedo to blend in with the guests. How had you missed the tattoo before? Did you even get a good look at his hands?

Your manager would hire gang members by accident. To think, you could have been having a deep philosophical discussion about morality and the error of humanity instead. Now, you had to face the reality of your morality as he trained the gun on you.

A laugh bubbled in your throat as you lifted your hands, feigning innocence. And here you thought he was just a shitty server. This made a lot more s—

You sensed someone behind, but it was too late. Jon cracked the butt of his gun on the back of your head and the world went dark.

#dear daddy long legs fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd #batfamily #stephanie brown #red hood x reader #red hood #batman #fanfic #fanfiction

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chimivx · 3 days ago

Text

gimme gimme gimme 4 -> mingi x fem!reader -> nice for what

wc: 9.9k warnings: 18+, sexual content and alcohol consumption in every part, infidelity themes... if i missed anything please let me know! posted: 2/2/25 12:30 pm est.

masterlist ~ <- previous part - next part ->

Standing in the middle of the dance floor, sweaty, drunk bodies bumping into you, you peer up from your phone and attempt to accept the fact that Aurora walked away from you. That she left you alone. That what you had done, or been caught doing, had upset her, had hurt her.

A conversation shared between you and Yunho, nothing more, not even a singular touch, a mere brush to a shoulder. You spoke words, you heard some you weren’t expecting to hear, he shared things with you that you should take directly to your boyfriend because it meant that maybe somehow, someway, their relationship was fixable.

He was over in the corner, where Aurora escaped to. They were all over there. You couldn’t see them over the crowd, the people dancing, but they were there. And you wished nothing more than to be able to walk out of here without any of them spotting you. Not one ounce of your being longed to push through the sea of bodies to join the group, but you knew you had to.

Mingi was over there, and you really should be the first one to tell him you spoke with Yunho. After what’s happened within the last few days you weren’t sure your relationship could withstand another hit before one wasn’t even fully patched up. You’d fix it. You would take the time to fix it, you had to talk to him, had to work it out, let him know that everything was good, that you two were okay, that everything would be alright, that you would make it through this, that it was you and him, Tori and Mingi.

Tears brimmed your eyes, but you blinked them away, tipping your chin up so they wouldn’t roll down your cheeks like one already had.

You took a peek at your phone screen and the message on it. Turning around, searching for Jongseob, he was still at the table with his friends. Continuing in a circle, twirling perfectly under the dim lights, you spotted the back of Yunho’s head still sitting at the bar. Locking your phone, you shoved it back into your purse and sighed.

Whoever this was, you were going to catch them, for no reason other than to get rid of the feeling within you. The need to know. Whoever it was, they knew you, because your curiosity overwhelmed you.

Lurking back toward the corner, stepping around people too wrapped up in their own drama to pay attention to you, your arm grazed over Mingi’s where he stood at the end of the bar, his large frame leaning against it. The boys stood around him, Wooyoung, Yeosang, who gave you a wave, Seonghwa, Soul, Jongho, they all had a drink in their hands, even the twenty year old. Across from them, tucked away in the booth mere inches from where the boys stood, the girls squished together, and your stomach sunk.

On the end, facing Jongho with her attention turned to Keni and Jeongyeon, Yuna sat with her legs crossed, her fingers tracing lines in the glass she acquired from the bar earlier, still half full. You’ve finished a whole other one by now. She smiled with Keni, nudging her arm as they spoke, doing her absolute best to make sure that the two newest within the group felt welcomed, felt like they belonged. Keni’s been around since the start of junior year, but her and Yeosang’s relationship was fresh, much like Yuna and Jongho’s, and Jongyeon and Ryujin, who had an Aurora under her arm at the other end of the rounded booth.

Appearing in the dim light, some of it flashing over you, Ryujin glanced your way, her brows in a straight line, her hand grasping Aurora’s arm tight. From beside you, Mingi watched, looking down at you, you could feel his eyes. He wanted you to look back at him, but there were more serious matters at hand.

You needed to talk to Aurora before she told any of them.

You also had to come up with a better argument as to why you sat down next to him and talked to him.

Closure didn’t cut it, at least not with Aurora.

Truthfully, you didn’t even want the closure. You wanted things to go back to the way they were, Yunho should be over here, not at the bar by himself wallowing in miserableness while the rest of you laughed the night away without him.

“Here!” Jeongyeon shouted over the music, flinging her arm in front of Ryujin and Aurora, a phone in her hand. Both girls glanced at it. “It’s Isla,” she said, and they gasped at once.

Pulling her arm off of Aurora, Ryujin snatched her cell phone and opened the messages, typing back to her best friend. Yours smiled at the phone for a second, then fled to the safety of her apparent boyfriend's arms, using Seonghwa’s chest for leverage as she almost veered sideways on her way to Wooyoung’s outstretched hand that beckoned her closer.

The spot beside Ryujin was free, calling your name.

Peeking to your left, Mingi smiled at you, perking a questioning brow as the softness slowly bled into a sly smirk. Taking a breath, you gave him the smallest smile, then hurried into Ryujin’s side, bumping into her, making her bump into her girlfriend.

Leaning towards her, trying to catch a glimpse at the screen, the messages they were sending that had everything to do with Vernon, or how she was doing, or what their travel was like, you bit down on your lip, and asked, “How’d you do it?”

Ryujin sent a message. “Do what?”

“Adjust,” you gestured to her phone.

She shot you a look, her round face incredibly confused beneath her piecey bangs. “To Vernon?”

“No,” you breathed through a laugh, then thought about it. “Maybe.” There’d been more to it than boyfriends, girlfriends, anything of that sort. “To all of it,” you said, meeting her gaze, “Her leaving, the way she left…”

“You think she’s adjusted?” Jeongyeon leaned toward you over her girlfriend's lap. Ryujin tipped her chin back, shook her head and laughed.

You wanted to smile, but it wouldn’t manifest. “So, it never ends?”

Ryujin scoffed, looking over at you. “It’s not that it never ends, it gets easier, you just gotta… Focus on what you do have.”

“And that happened with Isla?” you asked with a raise of your brows. “You focused on what you do have and you magically got over everything that happened to us?” Jeongyeon focused on her girlfriend, sliding an arm around her back to hold her while Ryujin studied you.

“What goes on Tor? Asking for a friend?” She attempted to read you, but you knew with Ryujin that it was hard for her to do that with any of you that weren’t Isla.

Rolling your eyes, you muttered, “Totally.”

She shook her head once. “I didn’t get over it, it sucks. I miss her every damn day, but she’s happy. She’s safe. Am I supposed to make her feel bad for doing what’s best for her just because I get sad that she’s not here?”

Her words struck you across the face. Keeping the feeling within you, not letting it leak outward, you frowned. “No, I just… I don’t know.”

“She’s sick,” Ryujin said in a way to back up what she said, not to insinuate that you didn’t know. Everyone knew. “I have to put that first. And, I can still talk to her whenever I want. I know she’s okay, she’s with Vernon, she’s with DK. Our time at Nasara with Isla is over, my time at Nasara is over, it’s time to move on.”

Your lips parted, and she waited patiently for you to speak. It took you a few seconds, but you managed to whisper, “What if I don’t wanna move on?”

She answered fast, like she somehow knew what you were going to say, her head jerking around with a sureness to it. “Personally, I don’t wanna stay stuck in a place that made me miserable. It’s cliche, but that chapter is closed. I have Jeongyeon, I have a job, I have you, I have them,” she gestured to the group in front of her, the girls beside her, “I gotta hold onto you guys, I can’t make it to the next step without you. So, yeah, I miss Isla, I miss last year, and the year before that, but if I want to feel better, I have to keep going. Gotta protect what I do have in front of me.” She held your heavy gaze, both of your eyes wide, full of genuinity. “If I stay stuck I risk losing it all. I’m willing to make sacrifices for the people I love.”

Gulping, attempting to swallow away your tears that threatened to spill over once again, you tore your eyes from her and glanced over to Mingi. Smiley Mingi resting against the bar, laughing with his friends, teasing one another, sipping their beers. He caught onto your gaze mid laugh, his grin faltering as he drank in your energy. Eyebrows nestling over his shining eyes, two fingers lifted off of the bottle he held and waved you over to him, your body listening without a second thought.

Melting into him, wrapping your arms around his waist, you laid your head on his chest. His heartbeat in your ear, something steady, something absolute, something real. Taking a step away from the boys with you in tow, he rested his cheek over your hair, his hands slow dancing over your back, smoothing over your arms, tickling then soothing your skin.

But, I still care, Tori.

His words had made your head dizzy. The longer they stayed there, the worse they felt. You could easily get rid of them by looking up at your boyfriend and telling him, but you couldn’t explain yourself. Not yet. Pressed to his chest you looked over to your friends and sighed. Aurora watched you, her own head pressed to Wooyoung's shoulder, one of his fingers twirling around in her hair while he talked to Jongho. It didn’t kill you, her stare, but you couldn’t figure it out.

I still care.

[ITZ]: did u figure me out

[you]: no, asshole.

[ITZ]: oh

[you]: how the fuck would i be able to figure you out

[ITZ]: thought it was obvious

[ITZ]: guess i have to try harder now

You slapped your phone down onto your bare thigh startling Yuna who lounged beside you, her legs tangled with your own. Head laid back on the stitched pillows, she groaned and tapped you with a pedicured foot, running her hand over her forehead.

Yeosang and Ryujin may or may not have forced you all into a rally last night soon after you rejoined the group.

Everyone’s here now! Go, go, go! You have to do it, we just graduated, we’re not coming back! Do it!

Yuna’s been a mess since the first round of shots.

“Cheers is a good time, we’ll go back,” Seonghwa’s voice carried into the living room from the kitchen, three of them puttering around in there, eating no doubt. Peering over the back of the sofa you spotted Soul rocking back and forth on his feet behind Seonghwa who faced Hongjoong, the former president in clothes you’d rarely see him in, a plain black t-shirt and shorts.

Hongjoong had his body turned to Seonghwa, the two with a foot of space between them, their hands going in and out of the bag they snacked from at the same time. “There’s one on the beach called Wave,” he popped his brows, gaze locked on the boy that appeared a foot taller in front of him, “Have you gone there yet?”

Soul gasped, his hands slapping onto the counter. Both boys turned to him, smiles appearing on their faces. “I’ve been there! They won’t card you.”

Hongjoong tilted his head and gave Seonghwa a look. “Course they won’t,” he breathed, the two sharing a laugh.

Soul beamed. “Me, Seob, Intak, Jiung.” Your nervous system jolted as you looked at him. “We’ve been there so many times, it’s a blacklight bar, it’s so dark, but it gets so hot, it’s kinda small, but so cool.”

Seonghwa gave him a soft smile. “So cool,” he repeated, and Soul nodded.

Then, he looked at you.

“Let’s go tonight,” you said as soon as he met your eyes.

Yuna groaned from the pillows. “I can’t do another night out, Tor, not in a row.”

You painted your face bored, glaring down at her, one she didn’t see with her eyes screwed shut. “Come on, we should be going out! We’re here, let’s do it.”

Seonghwa hummed, his shoulders shrugging. “We have like two weeks left.”

You shifted your glare over to him and he seemed to match it. “I wanna go,” you said, peeking at Soul who now leaned over the counter on his elbows, watching you. “Soul wants to go.”

“Soul wants to go where?” Aurora asked, bouncing off of the last step of the stairs, sleep all over her face. Wooyoung, her shadow with the hood of his sweatshirt over his tousled waves, didn’t deter from the path written for him by her.

But he did look at you.

And it hurt.

“Wave, a bar on the beach,” Seonghwa spoke for the boy, following the couple with his eyes as they wandered through the kitchen, gave mediocre hello’s to Hongjoong and met Souls side.

Yuna tapped you with her foot, pulling your attention from the kitchen. She’d seen Wooyoung’s face. “What was that for?” she asked, brows pulled over her wide eyes. Appeasing her with a subtle shake of your head for now, you turned back to the kitchen. Aurora, at Souls side, nearly pressing herself against him, listened to him with a smile.

“Not just a bar…” He went on and on, and the world moved around him. Seonghwa and Hongjoong ate their snacks, Wooyoung slid an open water bottle in front of Aurora, Yuna watched Soul half impressed. It was the most half of you have probably heard him speak, ever. He spilled stories, moments in time that appeared to make him happy, stories of Jongseob and their friends, the four of them sneaking out of his parents beach house to get plastered under the neon lights half clothed because the air grew so warm. “Tori wants to go tonight,” he ended with a smile flashed in Wooyoung and Aurora’s direction, the two of them posted up on either side of him.

She looked at you, nothing on her face yet.

“San and Hongjoong did just get here, we could give them a night out,” she offered.

Yuna groaned, obnoxious and long. “I can’t do it again!” Her body jolted as she shook herself around, jostling yours with her. “Somebody agree with me, please!”

You laughed, putting your hands over her ankles to calm her. “It’ll be fun, come on.”

“Maybe one night here won’t kill us,” Aurora said definitively, and all of the energy seemed to be sucked from the room. “We can do Wave another night.” Paralyzed in place, you whipped your head in her direction, instant steam pouring from your ears. As if she could see it, she mirrored your piercing glare. Wooyoung leaned into her, a whisper falling from his lips for only her to hear.

“Amen,” Yuna sighed, going still, relaxing back onto the sofa, her arms going limp off the edge of the cushions.

“Sure, okay,” you scoffed, and no one reacted. They all went about what they were doing before, snacking, sipping water, mumbling to each other, sharing small smiles. “Fuck me, let’s all just do what Aurora says.”

Yuna lifted her head, her lips parting, but no words came out. In the kitchen, Seonghwa paused, his eyes on you. In fact, everyone's eyes were on you, even Hongjoong, the tiniest smirk pulling at his lips.

Her eyes burned. If looks could kill you’d be a goner.

Regret filled your gut, your insides actively spinning in a circle, tangling together, squeezing and pulling.

She opened her mouth, her words like a knife cutting through the air that had grown thick in the worst way. “You can do whatever you want, Tori. You wanna go to Wave? Go to Wave. Free will, clearly you have plenty of it.”

Wooyoung moved behind her, an arm sliding around her front. “Okay,” he whispered, “No, no.” No one else moved, they either stared at you or Aurora, waiting for more. Without another word from her, she let Wooyoung walk her away, she let him hold her metaphorical earrings, ones he put back in by ushering her out of the room.

“What happened?” Yuna asked you within a whisper, sitting up on her elbows. You spared her half a glance before focusing on Soul.

“Oh, you guys have fun,” Hongjoong snickered with a shake of his head.

Souls gaze danced about the room before he said, “So, no Wave?” Seonghwa hit him across the shoulder and the boy cracked a laugh. “Right,” he breathed, then made it a point to look at you and shrug his gangly shoulders.

The front door swung open and the room fell back to normal in an instant, Yuna sprawled on the couch, the boys in the kitchen chattering away. Leaving the door open behind them, their arms full of cardboard cases and trembling glass bottles, Mingi and Jongho strut through the living room and straight back into the kitchen, Jongho stopping by the couch first to greet his girlfriend, leaning over her to press a kiss to her forehead where she laid, boxes in hand and all. Mingi went to the kitchen.

“We found all they had,” he said to Seonghwa, cocking his head to the side. “They said they’ll have more next week.” Jongho met him at the counter, sliding his box next to Mingi’s.

“That’s fine,” Seonghwa shrugged, taking in what liquor they’ve bought, the beers that still rattled. “They take my card?” Mingi smiled, slid his hand into the front pocket of his jeans, and slapped the black card onto the marble. “Thanks,” Seonghwa nodded, placing it between his fingers.

While Mingi turned around to find you, Jongho unloaded the bottles one by one, the three in the kitchen falling into a discussion about what they found and where. Listening to him, Seonghwa handed the credit card to Hongjoong who reached for it, but as his tiny fingers grazed the edge of it, the eldest pulled it away and smirked, not even giving his former president a glance. Nodding along with Jongho, Seonghwa placed the card between his teeth and laughed as Hongjoong huffed and snatched it away, pulling out a thin wallet from his pocket to slide the card into.

Mingi, happy as clam, peered out into the living room and smiled at you. Hitting you with a wink, one that would normally make you giggle, he hurried over to your side and squatted down behind the couch, half of him still towering over it. Taking a second to read your face, the tension in your brows, he pouted.

“Something happen?”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked softly, tilting his head ever so slightly. Narrowing your eyes at the question, at his need to question, he backtracked. “I mean, let’s talk about it.”

“Go help Jongho,” you whispered, gesturing to the boy unloading the bottles with your chin.

“Right,” Mingi mumbled, blinking fervently, “Okay, I’ll be back.”

Yuna screwed up her face and wiggled her feet. “How long have you guys been having problems?” Turning to her quickly, peeling your eyes from Mingi’s toned middle, you laughed to yourself. “I didn’t feel it till now. Are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” you said, looking back into the kitchen at Soul now organizing beers in the fridge. He turned with focused brows to grab more, but looked at you first. He hesitated, smiled, then went on his way, grabbing onto bottles that Mingi set out for him. “You know his other friends are staying down the street? Jongseob has a house.”

Yuna blinked. “That sleazy blonde one?”

“He’s not… Okay, yeah.” Thoughts of last night haunted your brain. Sleazy wasn’t too far off.

“Did not know that,” Yuna muttered, dragging a finger over her eyebrows to soothe the ache you know was pounding them. “How do you know that?”

You eyed Seonghwa and Hongjoong, how they drew closer and closer together while the other three moved around the kitchen. “He was in Cheers last night, I talked to him.”

“The lowerclassmen are hilarious,” Yuna said. “Some of our girls are down here too. I don't wanna know what happens in that house.”

You shot her a smirk. “You know what’s happening in that house, we were them. Ror isn’t the only one who’s slept with more than one of them.” Laughing aloud, catching Jongho’s attention, the boy spinning around with a smile on his face, Yuna kicked you and the mention of her and San’s freshman year once upon a time.

“You should’ve seen Jongho’s face the last time that got brought up,” she sighed, both hands sliding over her face. “He gets so jealous, it’s so hot.”

Your eyes fell over Mingi. He’s never gotten jealous, only protective. Confronting Jongseob he would put him in his place, then leave it all be. He wouldn’t attach himself to you, get more clingy, or whine about you talking to him. Confident in himself, as he should be, Mingi never felt the need to prove himself if another guy came onto you, or flirted with you. He’d assert his dominance to the guy, then move on almost as if it had never happened, never acknowledging it again until there were repeat offences.

It’s not that you wanted Mingi to be jealous, you didn’t want that type of toxicity in your relationship regardless of how harmless it’d be, but something about your man doting on you a little extra to show how much he loved you wouldn’t hurt.

Wooyoung and Aurora made their way back into the room, Aurora dragging him along by the hand behind her. The dynamic fascinated you as much as it frustrated you, how Wooyoung could go along with everything she wanted, everything she said, at the snap of her fingers. He listened to her, he knew what she needed before she knew she needed it. Always one step ahead though it appeared like she ran the show. He simply let her think that. He didn’t have to prove he knew something before her, he didn’t gloat when he tended to her, he didn’t show off for her sake.

That was what you and Mingi had, you think, at some point. You remember it, but instead of one step ahead the two of you walked in time, side by side.

Now it felt as though every other day one of you was tiptoeing while the other ran marathons, sometimes not even in the same direction.

Taking a deep breath, standing to retreat to your bedroom, you unlocked your phone and opened your messages. No bars were happening tonight, you knew that much, no matter how much you’d fight it. Trailing up the stairs slowly, you typed out a message and hit send. Little to no remorse settling within you.

[you]: come over tonight.

Wobbling into a sophomores shoulder in the platform sandals Yuna wore to the bar last night, you ignored the kid's mumble of frustration and then his apology when he realized who he was speaking to. Or, trying to speak to. Glued to your phone, your nose nearly pressed to the screen, you grunted with frustration, mimicking the sophomore you bumped into.

No answer.

The phone number didn’t answer you. The person didn’t answer. The guy left you on delivered. He was smart too, he didn’t have his read receipts on. He didn’t have his location on. He was simply a number on a screen. For all you know you could be texting one of your professors, or worse, Seonghwa’s uncle.

Venturing into the kitchen, yanking open the fridge that had been ravaged for the last hour since the party started up, you reach for a can of fruity bubbles and crack it open, closing the fridge with your foot. Turning, you looked out into the living room over several heads to find more heads. Voices filled the space, some familiar and some unknown, the brothers and sisters of the fraternity and sorority bringing extra’s along since they could actually get into this party.

Everyone in bathing suits or summer clothes, they radiated sunshine energy, a much different feeling than whatever got conjured up in the houses at Nasara. Dancing to the music, singing along, gossiping with friends, flirting with someone across the room, stealing spots on sofas to make out, it comforted you. This felt normal. It would be normal. It should be normal.

Your eyes wanted to find him. You wanted to lock gazes with him across the room and know.

You typed out a message after a gulp of your drink and sent it, whipping your head back up to scan the open space flooded with bodies.

[you]: are you here?

You waited. Meeting eyes with ample people you barely recognized, ones that recognized you, you didn’t stop scouring. If Jongseob was here, he’d be easy to spot, you’d just have to look for two boys sucking up to him and he’d be in between them. If Yunho was here, he’d also be easy to spot, you’d just have to look for a boy as tall as your boyfriend most likely standing alone.

Behind you, San and Wooyoung stepped into the kitchen, the two leaping off the stairs to the second floor bar where more hoards of people lingered. Peeking over your shoulder, you met San’s eyes, his pure, lust fueled, dark chocolate eyes. Wooyoung had an arm slung over his shoulder, his entire side pressing against the wider, stockier boy, speaking to him in whispers with his gaze fixed on San’s face. He didn’t care that he wasn’t looking at him, as long as he was grasping whatever Wooyoung said to him.

A smirk grew on his lips, his perfect pink lips that sat perched on his smooth, cream colored skin. Snaking a hand up to hold beneath Wooyoung’s jaw, he turned to him and mumbled, “Find me in ten.” Wooyoung hurried off without sparing you a single glance, but he knew you were there. As soon as San released him he was off, disappearing into the crowd.

Searching through the fridge, San emerged with a can in his hand, one he cracked open as he swaggered up to you, dressed exactly how you’d envision him to dress for tonight. Short, black trunks cut off halfway at his thigh and a matching button down hanging open, exposing his broad, toned chest and torso, one you guarantee has been felt up already by curious hands.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he said to you with a wink, throwing an arm around you, pulling you in for the tightest hug. Your arms wrapped around him, the boy a solid mass of muscle. Pulling away from you he took one hand to your cheek and squeezed it. “How are you?” he asked with a soft smile, dipping his chin down.

“I’m alright,” you said, and he hummed immediately in disapproval.

“Mm, no you’re not,” he said. San and Wooyoung were parallels in the way they could read energy, both of them incredibly emotionally intelligent, both of them using it in their own way, San mostly for his own advantage. Lifting his eyes above your shoulder, to someone a few inches taller than himself, his smile grew. “What’s wrong with her, Mingi?”

Your boyfriend draped a hand over one of your shoulders, his fingers squeezing you ever so slightly. Giving him a quick look, his obvious unease forcing you to look back at San who watched you, Mingi said, “She wanted to go out tonight, but the party’s here.”

San’s eyes sparkled, his smirk one you’ve seen before, but never been on the receiving end of. “She needs an orgasm.”

“San!” you shouted, laughter erupting out of you as you stretched out your arms to give him a gentle push.

Smile growing, dimpling his cheeks, he said, “Go make her cum Mingi,” then he winked at you, “Or go rub one out for me and come back.”

“Bro,” Mingi spat.

“San!” you shouted again, bouncing your knees, reaching back to place your hand over Mingi’s. Trying to tangle your fingers with his, he pulled away, tucking his hand in his pocket.

“I’m kidding,” he said, looking between you and your boyfriend, “I’m busy anyway, I won’t be able to fit you in tonight.” Tapping you on the nose with his finger, he circled around you and threw a hand behind Mingi’s head, pulling him down easily, planting a sloppy kiss to his cheek just beside his lips. Pushing him away, jumping backward as much as he could’ve, but not with much persistence, Mingi wiped at his cheek and missed how San snickered as he walked off, head held high, chest puffed.

Spinning to face Mingi, you smiled up at him and said, “He was kidding by the way.”

“Did you tell him or something?”

Your stomach dropped. “No! I didn’t… I didn’t tell anyone.”

Mingi, a frown pulling at his lips, bobbed his head. “Right.”

Reaching out to grab onto his bicep, he glanced down at it. “Don’t let it bother you.”

“That doesn’t bother me,” he spat, flashing a glare your way, “That happens sometimes. I would understand, I would’ve done something else. You lied to me.”

Pressing your lips together tight, you took a breath and shook your head. “I’m sorry.”

He stared at you in disbelief, as if reliving the night. “You think I have sex with you just to get off?”

“No,” you said, rushed, “You don’t, we don’t-”

“You know what it means to me,” he said. “How important it is to me, I don’t care how pussy I sound right now, Tori, that’s me giving myself to you. That’s me loving you. That’s time when I can really show you just how much you mean to me, where I can tell you and show you how much I love you. I never did hook up culture, you know that… I can imagine it feels alot like that night, right?”

Everything that came out of him, the absolute truth. Mingi didn’t spend his high school years like most, he found himself in relationships, long term, much like the one you shared with him now. He didn’t kiss and tell, he didn’t flaunt around about how many girls he’s slept with, that number wasn’t even high, when he shared it with you in the start of your time together you were shocked. He knew you were something special, something to hold onto, because from the beginning you’d both be diving head first into bed. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t feel anything, he wouldn’t have, like he said, given himself to you if he didn’t see you sticking around in his life long term.

“I love you, Mingi, I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Rolling his eyes, he pushed by you with a huff. “Yeah, I love you, too.”

A shorter than Mingi, scrawnier than Mingi looking sophomore or junior pushed him back toward you, but paid no mind to him, like your tower of a boyfriend didn’t exist. Edging the counter, posting himself directly in front of you, he wore a smile, one showing off his pristine, shining white teeth. They were fake. They weren’t his. They couldn’t have been.

“Hey, you’re Tori, aren’t you?” he laughed, keeping something to himself. Raising your brow at him, you shared a look with Mingi, but he didn’t reciprocate, he was focused on this boy. “Vice President of ITZ?”

“Yes,” you said, tone flatter than it’d be if you were talking to Jongseob in front of Mingi. “Can I help you?”

The boy checked you out, his eyes glazing over your body, your bikini peeking out of the lacey cover up you had slipped on over top of it. Mingi watched him do so, and you wanted ever so badly for him to grab you, to hold you, to get jealous.

“Seob told me all about you,” the boy said, blinking his crystal blue eyes toward you. “Guess he wasn’t lying.”

Cheeks flushing before they turned pink, you sighed heavily and tossed your hair over your shoulder. “He- He, what?”

“Get out of here,” Mingi grumbled. The boy jumped, your boyfriend's deep voice startling him.

Looking up at him, he tried to laugh. “Who are you?”

Mingi looked at you. You looked at Mingi. Rage brimmed his expression, the sheer mention of Jongseob’s name threatening to send him reeling. That and the fact that this kid didn’t know who he was speaking to. A very important member of ATZ. His eyes bore into yours, for too long, before you realized he wanted you to answer his question.

“M-my boyfriend,” you said, stuttering as you did. Mingi rolled his eyes. A wave of shame flooded your senses. You wanted to run. “His name is Mingi,” you tried to recover, “On the board of ATZ, you a member?” The boy eyed him, then shook his head toward you. “Then why are you here?”

He winked at you. “Jongseob brought me.”

He was here.

“Well, you can leave me alone now,” you said to him, glancing up at Mingi who stood around to hear the end. “And don’t tell him where I am.”

You were the first to turn around, the first to walk away. Leaving Mingi behind who walked away the second you left, you hurried through the crowd, drink in hand, gulping it down as you elbowed past groups and teetered over people on the floor. Jongseob had been running his mouth, to people you didn’t even know. Either that or his friends were telling their friends, which meant that other people besides you, Jongseob, Jiung and Intak knew what happened last night at Cheers. Other people knew what he said to you.

Other people knew what you didn’t choose to stop.

Your cheeks burned, your stomach lurched, the urge to vomit so strong out of pure panic, embarrassment, you couldn’t place it. Every wrong feeling one could feel, you held it in your chest, your shaking hands, your tipsy feet. Hands landing on the back door, you scrambled for the handle and tugged it open, the panels of glass becoming one to allow you outside onto the deck where people and couples lined the railings or sat on the cushions, joints or cigarettes passed around as you flew by, your platform sandals thumping on the stairs that led down to the sand.

A mile further and you’d be on the beach, but down here, on the sand behind the dunes, there lived a fire pit, one lit and burning just as hot as you were internally. Few people sat around it in beach chairs low in the sand, a couple lost in their own whispers, cuddled into one another, a pair of friends sharing a vape, and a loner with a beer in his hands.

Circling the bonfire, he looked up at you and you froze.

“Tori?”

“Yunho,” you breathed.

Something of a laugh tumbled out of him. “We can’t keep meeting like this,” he muttered sarcastically. He trained his gaze on the fire in front of him, sipping his beer occasionally. “You look upset. Again.”

“Again?” you asked within a scoff.

He hit you with a side eye. “You weren’t supposed to talk to me last night, were you?”

“It’s not like that,” you said.

Yunho faced the fire, sitting backward in his chair, his long, bare legs extending in front of him. “Sure it isn’t. I’ve seen her make that face before, it was like she caught her boyfriend with Yeji all over again.”

His words made you shiver. “Don’t talk about that.”

He smiled, but he didn’t look at you. “Noted,” he said quietly, gesturing to the chair beside him with his beer. “Take a seat, you look like you need to unload.”

“Not with you,” you spat involuntarily. That got him to look up at you, the surprise on his face worsening the feeling within you. “Yunho,” you sighed, pressing the hand that wasn’t gripping your can to your face.

“Nah, I get it,” he nodded. “Your allegiance lies elsewhere, you can’t be seen with me. You’ve already been caught once, the council will behead you if they catch you again.”

As horrific as it sounded, he made you laugh, the sarcasm dripping in his knowing tone forcing it out of you against your will. He was good for that, talking himself out of things, covering everything up with humor, self-deprecating so you’d forget about your own bullshit even if just for a second. His thing with Aurora truly came as no surprise to you.

“She won’t let me talk to her about it,” you said, taking your hand from your face, revealing to him your fading smile. He swallowed his own and nodded, listening. “I tried, but…”

“She wouldn’t have it,” he finished for you.

Releasing a breath, you whispered, “Yeah.”

“What did you tell her?” he asked.

“That I… That I needed Yunho closure,” you said, voice smaller than ever.

He blinked, looked up at you and asked, “And what did she say to that?”

“What do you need Yunho closure for, none of us have Yunho closure.”

Quiet, processing what you’ve said, the corners of his lips began to perk up. Turning to the fire, he sipped his beer and tilted his head seemingly happily.

“What?” you questioned, taking a step toward him.

Yunho shook his head. “Nothing.”

“No, tell me. What did that just make you think of?”

He glanced toward you with a smile, then faced forward. “That everything is open ended right now.”

Twisting your brow, you took another step toward him. “Explain.”

“Everything is open ended,” he shrugged, turning completely in his chair to look up at you, his eyes appearing wider than usual, more bright, glistening against the flames to his right and the moon above him. “Closure, she didn’t like how it sounded. When you told her that’s what you were getting, it upset her. The Aurora I know would’ve yelled at you when she caught you, especially if she’d been drinking. Did she yell at you? No. I didn’t even hear her yell after you walked away either.”

“Yunho, Wooyoung’s been really good with her,” you said just above a whisper. He snapped his jaw shut. “You know him. He’s rubbed off on her. The Aurora we know, or used to know, she’s different. After last year, the bullshit? It changed her.”

He thought to himself, his genius brain making marks you couldn’t see, solving equations only he’d put together. “But, still, if she-”

“She was angry, Yunho,” you said, and he met your gaze. “Just a different kind of angry.”

Nibbling his bottom lip, a breeze blew his dusty colored hair over his forehead. “I know her, Torilynn,” he whispered. “And it’s open ended.”

Groaning, your phone vibrated at the same time making you jump. Fumbling to open it, you mumbled, “Yunho, she’s… Damn.” You hurried for a notification from Instagram. A few drinks deep and you’ve forgotten that you silenced his incoming messages. You swiped into the thread with still no reply to your last message.

“What happened?” Yunho asked, pulling you from your screen. His eyes flickered between the cell phone in your hand and your eyes.

“I”m being ignored,” you said.

“By who, everyone’s here,” he smiled, narrowing his eyes.

Through a sigh, you whispered, “I don’t…” but stopped yourself, shooting him a look.

Raising a brow, Yunho sipped his beer. His smile settled into a smirk. “You don’t know?” Your blood ran cold, as it seemed to do now in his presence. “Is that what you were gonna say?”

“...No.”

His eyes ate you alive, curious, yet knowing all at the same time. “Okay,” he said after a beat of silence, slowly turning back in his chair before your question pulled him back in.

It came out of you in a whisper. “Are you the one texting me?”

He sat forward, elbows on his bare knees, delighted as he looked up at you. “What are you talking about?”

“The messages,” you still spoke no louder than a whisper. “The unknown number, they’ve been here in Haos the whole time, they know about me, they know who I am, is it you?” He laughed. “And don’t bullshit me, because you repeated something they said verbatim, Yo.”

His eyes bugged out of his head, his laughter growing louder. “I did? How!”

Throwing your hands out to the side, some of your drink spilled from the can. “I dunno, you tell me! How are you texting me from an unknown number when I have your number!”

“I’m not texting you, Tori!” He slapped both his hands to his chest, beer bottle in grip. “I wouldn’t know how to do that, I… I wouldn’t wanna do that, no offense.” A weight felt like it’d been lifted from your shoulders. “It’s not me, I swear to you.”

Taking a deep breath, you turned yourself around and soaked in the sights. The sand stretching on forever, the stars and the moon in the sky, the house pulsing with life, the fire warming your exposed skin. Sipping your drink that was half warm, you cringed and shrugged your shoulders.

“Well, good to know,” you said, and he laughed.

“How long has this been happening?” he asked.

“Since we got here,” you muttered. “Our first night here, we literally just walked in the house and he told me he knew I was here.”

Yunho raised a brow. “He? You know this person is a guy?”

You looked at him for two seconds, then stared at the fire. “Yeah…”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been talking to this person… To him.”

“Maybe I have,” you whispered, sipping your drink.

Yunho fell back in his seat and laughed. “Tori! Does anybody know about this?”

Thinking to yourself, already knowing the answer, you hit him with a glare before mumbling, “No.”

Dragging a hand through his hair, his veiny, slender, pretty fingers dancing through the overgrown strands, he sighed, blinking up at you. The roundness of his eyes, the curve of his nose, things you haven’t taken the time to notice before, they were endearing. Tongue poking between your lips, you pressed your can to them and sipped your drink, the two of you maintaining eye contact that made your stomach twist.

“Tori,” he said, clearing his throat. Ripping his gaze from you, he focused down on the sand. “Don’t keep this from them. Rory, and Mingi. They’re your best friends, go tell them. They can help you figure it out.”

Clenching your jaw, you nearly crushed the can in your hand as your grip tightened around it. Yunho’s eyes flickered to it before they were on yours again. “But, if I do, then they’ll see what I said to him.”

“What did you say to him?” Yunho asked in a way that made it seem as though you should be incriminated.

Shrugging, you finished off your drink. “Just, stuff.”

“Jesus, Tor,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “You have any ideas on who you think it could be?”

“Possibly,” you said, crinkling the can, tossing it into the fire. Yunho watched it, the metal shriveling up within the flames.

“And will it end well if it’s who you think it is?” he asked, eyes lit up by flames.

Folding your arms over your chest, you smiled to yourself. “No. No it won’t.”

Commotion stirred on the deck above you, voices got louder, some people shouted. Tipping your chins up, both you and Yunho, you're greeted by a head peering over the edge to look at you at the same time. Warm blonde hair, honey skin and a sleazy smile.

“There she is,” Jongseob sang. Intak appeared beside him, a laugh falling from him when he spotted you. Jongseob elbowed him away as his eyes shifted over to Yunho. “Hangin’ with him again?” Sipping his beer, Yunho nearly choked on it.

“Keep my name out of your mouth,” he spat, pointing up at the twenty year old.

“Why, ‘cause it’s too busy in everyone else’s?” Jongseob snickered, and Yunho looked away with a groan. “Come take shots with me, Tori,” he said with a slight pout on his lips. “These losers won’t leave me alone. Save me.” Various ‘hey’s’, and ‘asshole’, sounded off from the boys around him, people he called friends. Jongseob swatted a hand backward toward them, disappearing from the ledge.

Meeting Yunho’s glance, you gulped as he whispered, “I sure hope to god it isn’t him.”

All around the living room table people collected, Seonghwa and Hongjoong sliding out shot glasses to anyone who approached and sat down with them, the two turning it into a game when newcomers joined them on the floor. How many shots can you endure before you’re spinning? Stepping around the sofa, Jongseob on your heels, his friends behind him, you fan out, you take in the scene. Intak and Jiung cheer the next round on, Hongjoong peering up at them behind his chunky black frames perched on the end of his nose.

This was how you knew him, how most knew him. Dressed to impress, ironed clothes, accessories impeccable, chestnut hair slicked back off his forehead, glowy skin, the former president was nothing short of stunning.

Groans, echoes of boo’s rung out into the air after a shot was thrown back and two sophomores tapped out, leaving the table. At the end farthest from you, three participants beamed amongst themselves, only two seeming to participate in the game. San and Aurora, your best friend sitting on one of his thighs, they slid their glasses toward Seonghwa after they pressed their cheeks together and giggled, Wooyoung on the other side of Aurora watching her with a smile. Her other hand that wasn’t latched onto San or the shot glass held onto Wooyoung’s.

Stepping forward, you bent over to whisper to Seonghwa, “Have you seen Mingi?”

Pouring out shots, sliding them back down over the wood, he peered over at you, his own eyes glazed over. “Last I saw him he was upstairs with Yeosang.” His drunken gaze traveled backward over you toward Jongseob and his friends. “Did they come with you?” You bobbed your head. “Why’d you bring them back in here, I just kicked them out.”

Hongjoong smacked his hand on the table multiple times, his wicked smile growing wider as Aurora and San swallowed their liquor, gasping as they slapped the glasses back onto the wood. Laughing aloud, tongues slipping out of their open mouths to prove they finished it, they leaned into one another, tongues pressing together for all of three seconds before they sent the glasses back to Hongjoong.

“Kicked them out, why?” you asked, brows twisting over your eyes that flashed from your best friend to Seonghwa.

Hands grabbed onto your shoulders for leverage. Leaning over you towards the table, Jongseob and his friends laughed behind you, even more so as Intak said, “Not the only thing she likes on them pretty lips, right Aurora?”

She was oblivious, slow blinking, limp moving, her hands holding onto San. Both boys nearly broke their necks with how fast they reacted to him, faces wiped of all feeling. Wooyoung leapt to his feet. The boys behind you all took a step back.

“Who the fuck brought you back in here?” he spat. Aurora turned at the sound of his voice, his tone loud, angry, an Wooyoung you all knew well just about three years ago. The look on her face, one you hated. San pulled her into his chest.

“The president’s right hand,” Intak said, smug as ever. Stepping closer, the air in the room depleting with every inch of space he stole, Wooyoung settled his face into the grimace he’d shot you that morning, giving it to you again.

“They didn’t tell me they were kicked out,” you breathed, holding your hands up.

Wooyoung clenched his jaw. “He’s been harassing her since he got here, he’s shitfaced.”

“So is your girl,” Intak bellowed, wobbling on his feet, tossing up a hand to prove his point. It’s a shame his smirk and the way his eyes crinkled was sexy. “You gonna let San take her for a ride?”

“You motherfucker.”

Lunging for him, you and the boys darting apart for the two to fall through, Wooyoung grabbed him by the shoulders and they vanished in the midst of people. Shouts sounded, from Wooyoung, Intak, shouts from others either cheering them on or too drunk to process what the actual fuck was happening. He hadn’t put his hands on anyone in ages, the look on his face one you haven’t seen since he was younger than the boy he tackled, grit teeth, wild eyes, red in the face…

Seonghwa leapt to his feet soon after Wooyoung grabbed onto him, a massive, “Hey!” sounding from his chest, triggering your own fight or flight, your body jolting.

Jongeob and Jiung disappeared the same as their president, in a hurry, the commotion condensing around them, more people rushing over to watch, to catch a glimpse of what the hell was happening.

“Oh shit,” San muttered, grabbing onto Aurora as he stood up. Her arms flailed before they found his shoulders. Eyebrows low, he rounded the table and placed her in front of you, taking your arms to wrap them around her back. “I’ll be right back,” he said to you, then he vanished with the rest.

Aurora sunk into you, her arms snaking around your back, her hands grabbing onto her elbows. Keeping your arms where they lived over her back, you searched the crowd but couldn’t see anything over the cluster of heads, the mess of people yelling, jumping. Hongjoong had to scramble to his feet to keep others in line, ones that couldn’t even get into the center of it all, trying to start their own shit outside the circle. It amazed you to watch him work in real time, the way people obeyed him in seconds, his own fraternity members still recognizing him as someone with the most power though now he was one step below. Neither wanted to have to do their jobs this month, Seonghwa and Hongjoong, nor did you or Aurora, yet here they were.

Over someone who hasn’t been a member in almost a year.

On your chest, Aurora stirred. She caught her own balance, tipping her chin upward to look at you. Blinking, you looked down at her. Smelling like a bottle of vodka, her hooded eyes and weak smile made you sigh. Intak was right, she was shitfaced. To the point where you knew she wouldn’t remember this tomorrow. Squeezing you, her lips formed a pout.

“I miss you,” she whispered, her eyes attempting to read you, but there wasn’t a single coherent thought in her head.

Swallowing away the lump that lodged in your throat, you frowned and nodded. “I miss you.”

A couple of shouts sounded off from the crowd and her eyes shot open wide. Taking her hands to your shoulders to push away from you, you held her closer, putting a hand behind her head, pulling her back down against your chest.

“Where did…”

You shook your head. “No, don’t worry about it.”

She huffed, her hands scooping beneath your arms to hold behind your back. Her grip was weak. “He’s fighting him, isn’t he.” Blinking, eyes following the crowd that condensed again, Soul and Jongho now in the mix, you couldn’t put any words together. “Sometimes I wish… he could be like Mingi.”

“What?” you gasped, glancing down at her. “Why!?”

“Mingi… fights clean,” she mumbled. “You know what you get with him, he is who he is.”

She wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, I guess so, but Wooyoung-”

“It’s never…” she paused, and you checked to see if she’d knocked out, but she watched the backs of the people in the circle. “It’s never one thing with him. It’s always gotta be something else, more feelings, talk about this, you feel this way because…”

Opening your mouth, words didn’t come out. It took a minute for you to be able to say anything. Here you were for so long thinking their dynamic, their relationship, their bond was all sunshine and daisies and rainbows. “He cares about your relationship.”

Aurora whined, turning to bury her face on your shoulder. “I know,” she muttered. “My dad said the same fuckin’ thing, that he’s a good guy, that he cares.”

Rubbing a hand between her shoulder blades to soothe her somehow, you shrugged. “Listen to him, Ror. You’ve got it good.”

“So do you,” she said quietly. “You’re like, with your soulmate.” She lifted her head, glassy eyes blinking up at you. “I wish mine didn’t suck.”

Your stomach flipped. You shook her accidentally as your hands flew to grab onto her cheeks, cupping her face, her entire body weight resting on top of you. “What do you mean by that?”

A smile played on her lips, the corners of her eyes tipping upward. “Did he say anything about me?” she asked within a whisper. “Yunho… Did he-”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence when you really fucking needed her to. San hurried back to you, people dispersing the scene reluctantly. His arm grabbed onto her waist and pulled her off of you, scooping her into his arms. With a laugh she moved pliantly, arms thrown around his wide shoulders as she wrapped herself around his front, legs slinging around his waist. Behind you Wooyoung passed by, hands wiping at his face, brushing his arms, adjusting his clothes. He paid no mind to a single soul, not even you. His eyes were forward, narrowed and dark.

“Where are you going?” you called after her and her drunken smile bouncing over San’s shoulder.

She grinned wider, a giggly mess as San pressed his lips to her neck, following Wooyoung to the stairs. Looking at you, behind you, all at once her smile faded and she pointed at you like she suddenly remembered something, shouting, “Don’t let him leave!” They were gone in seconds.

Laying a hand over your chest, your heart pounding between your lungs, the other found your hip, resting there. Spinning on your heels, wandering back toward the table that Seonghwa and Hongjoong have found themselves at again, you stood beside where they sat, their sudden calm energy while they whispered doing wonders to calm yours. People wandered off, some clearly wired, others muttering how disappointed they were it ended so fast. Looking down at Seonghwa, he met your eyes and smiled as if to tell you that everything would be okay, his attention turning back to Hongjoong in a flash, like he was worried he was going to miss something.

A hand grabbed you and spun you around, the sight sending a gasp through you. Intak, his pretty face, messed up. One hand held onto his jaw, the other clasped onto his forehead, he was leaning against Jiung who had a few scuffs himself. Soul stood behind him, his hands on his back to hold him steady, his focus on Jiung, the two whispering over their friends head.

Jongseob had been the one to grab you, to put his hands on you. “Your dudes are fucking nuts,” he snapped.

You didn’t know where to look, searching Jongseob for any sign of him having been touched by one of your friends, you muttered, “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry?

“We’re out of here,” he said, his voice growing tiny. “If you really want me like you let on, you come find me.” He glanced behind you and smirked. “Bye Tori.”

What the fuck?

“The fuck did he mean by that?” Yunho’s voice came from behind the sofa. Chills shooting down your spine, you spun around and slumped your shoulders. He took a second to look down at Seonghwa and Hongjoong sitting around the table. They were watching. Following his stare, you met eyes with them both and groaned. With one look at Yunho you spoke to him through it, and he followed you.

Darting through the maze that has become the house, he stayed but three steps behind you. Leading him around corners, groups of people, through a doorway into another smaller sitting room on the first floor, one with bookshelves kissing the ceiling, you crossed your arms over your chest and glared at him with a huff.

“I hate you and your smart brain,” you said.

Yunho tilted his head. “Huh?”

“Open ended?” you scoffed. “You don’t speak a word to her in months yet you still know how she feels?”

His lips parted, his body frozen. “What?”

“Oh, now you know nothing?”

He stepped toward you in the small space, only the two of you occupying the carpet. “She still has feelings for me? How the fuck did you learn this in a half hour?”

“Because, I may talk a lot of shit, but when she’s drunk-”

“She tells you everything,” you both said at once. Yunho tipped his chin backward, his own arms crossing over his t-shirt.

“Don’t go trying to break them up, Wooyoung almost just murdered Intak in the living room.”

A smirk graced his lips for all of a few seconds. “I wouldn’t do that. Besides,” he sighed, looking over at you, “You said he’s good for her. He’s good with her.”

Hesitating, knowing all you knew now, that Aurora had her own relationship issues, you whispered, “He is.”

“I want her happy,” he said, his genuine smile growing as he shrugged. The air falls quiet around the two of you, the commotion of the party still very much alive outside the library. He took a deep breath. “I’m gonna go.” Starting for the doorway, you watched him step out and turn a corner, but then your heart skipped a beat.

“Wait!” you shouted after him, hurrying out of the room, platform sandals clunking against the hardwood floor. “Yunho!”

He turned, confusion laced with worry in his brow. “What?”

Reaching his side, you grabbed onto his arm, hands wrapping around his bicep, the two of you wobbling together. “She said, don’t let him leave.”

“Me? Him as in me?” he asked, eyes going wide.

You sighed, a sarcastic laugh paired with it. “Who else, Yo?”

He took a breath and glanced about the party, his face not knowing what to do, what to feel. Shaking his head, his lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he froze. “Tori,” he whispered, and you shook his arm.

“What?”

Squishing his lips together, he gave you the tiniest shake of his head, his eyes locked elsewhere. Whipping yourself around, frantically searching through the sea of people, you found him. He wasn’t that hard to miss, especially from where he stood halfway down the stairs. He stared at you, he stared at Yunho, the way he held onto him, and you guarantee just by the look on his face that he saw the way you spoke to one another. Like you’ve done this already before this moment.

Gulping, voice tiny, you dropped your hands and whispered, “Mingi.”

read it on ao3 | talk to me | my masterlist

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

#all of the teezers will be here too dw #nice for what #ggg #ateez x reader #mingi x reader #mingi smut #mingi angst #ateez angst #ateez smut #mingi x you #mingi x y/n #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #ateez x female reader #plumverse #pwon is here too hehe #piwon be here #ateez

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steveseddie · 2 days ago

Text

light of all lights

rating: t | cw: minor character death | wc: 2,2k | tags: grief/mourning, eddie is sad about chrissy, steve is a sweetheart, hurt/comfort

written for day two of @steddielovemonth for the quote “There are darknesses in life and there are lights, you are one of the lights, the light of all lights,” and my @steddiebingo main card prompt “grief”

read on ao3

As soon as Eddie wakes up, he knows he’s hungover. He also doesn’t know why.

He doesn’t remember going out yesterday yet there’s an unmistakable pounding in his head and his mouth tastes like something died in it, so he must have partaken in the consumption of alcoholic beverages at some point last night.

If only he could remember any of it.

He rolls over and realizes he’s not in his bed back at the trailer. This is Steve’s bed. There’s probably something to be said about how long it takes him to notice it— already so used to spending at least a few nights a week in Steve’s bed, but Eddie chooses not to dwell on it right now, not while his sluggish brain is still trying to figure out what happened last night.

Eddie knows he didn’t go partying with Steve, but maybe he got too drunk at The Hideout and Steve had to come pick him up? But that doesn’t sound right either. They didn’t have a show last night or they should’ve since it was Saturday and Corroded Coffin had long since been upgraded from Tuesday nights to Saturdays once they built enough of a regular crowd. Only Eddie had canceled last night’s show knowing he’d be in a bad mood because—

Oh.

He knew he’d be in a bad mood because it was the anniversary of Chrissy’s death.

Eddie remembers everything now, going to the school for the memorial held in her honor only to turn around on his heels before he even made it to the gymnasium; running into Steve, who was on his way in and who took one look at Eddie’s tear-stained eyes and shaky hands and led him back to his car. He remembers Steve driving him to get flowers and then driving them both to the cemetery so they could put them on Chrissy’s grave. He remembers Steve sitting next to him, pressing their shoulders together until some jocks— friends of Jason Carver, probably— showed up and tried to start something with Eddie by calling him a murderer and saying he should’ve died instead of her.

Steve scared them off with his nailbat, but they decided it was better to leave the cemetery before they came back with more of their friends or someone else showed up. Then Steve drove them to his house without even asking, which Eddie was grateful for. The trailer, despite being different from the one where Chrissy died, was the last place he wanted to be. Back at Steve’s house, Eddie broke into Mr. Harrington’s liquor cabinet and Steve kept him company as he drank and cried, and drank some more.

At some point he must’ve cut Eddie off, dragged him upstairs and gotten him into bed so he could sleep it off, but Eddie doesn’t remember that part. He also doesn’t remember Steve sleeping next to him, but he knows he would’ve wanted to keep an eye on Eddie and make sure he didn’t die in his sleep.

Eddie wonders where Steve is right now— the left side of the bed isn’t warm anymore so he’s been gone for a while, but he left two painkillers and water on the bedside table for Eddie so the fact that he isn’t here doesn’t necessarily mean he hates Eddie for being such a fucking mess last night.

Still, Eddie would like to apologize because no one should have to deal with all of that so after downing the pills and the water, taking a leak and brushing his teeth with the spare toothbrush he keeps in Steve’s bathroom, he goes looking for him.

He finds him easily. All he has to do is follow the smell of coffee and bacon to the kitchen where Steve is doing The Hawkins Post’s crossword while sipping coffee, bacon simmering on the stove behind him.

Eddie feels a wave of affection so strong he goes dizzy with it. He must let out a gasp at the sight because Steve looks up, alerted of his presence.

His face softens when he sees Eddie, a sweet smile stretching over his lips. “Hey, you’re awake.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” Eddie says, leaning against the kitchen doorway.

Steve sets the paper down, the apples of his cheeks tinted pink. “How are you feeling?”

“Ugh.” Eddie flings the back of his hand to his forehead like a fainting damsel as he slides halfway down the doorway. “My head hurts from all the crying and the drinking and the crying—”

“You did a lot of that, yeah.” Steve gives him a sympathetic smile. “I left you some pills on the nightstand.”

“Yup, I saw them. They should kick in soon. Thanks, Stevie,” he says, standing up straight. Then he hangs a hand from his neck and adds, “and thanks for— you know, everything. I know I was a lot to deal with yesterday.”

“You weren’t,” Steve quickly reassures him. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, making him snort. “Fine, maybe you were but— I get it, man, this kind of anniversaries can be rough, but it’s worse if you go through them alone so I’m glad I found you when I did.”

“Yeah, I probably would’ve ended up at the hospital if those jocks found me alone or ended up in a ditch somewhere after drinking a whole bar by myself.” He feels a sudden sharp sting in his head. “It kinda feels like I already did, ouch.”

“Yeah, you went hard on the whiskey last night,” Steve says. “Come here, you need coffee and food.”

Eddie flops down on a chair at the same time Steve stands up. A minute later, there’s bacon and toast on a plate in front of him and a steaming mug of coffee next to it.

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, sipping on his coffee and sighing contentedly. Steve sits next to him, also drinking coffee but not eating anything. He probably had breakfast when he woke up, which must’ve been a while ago since he’s already dressed for the day. “You have somewhere to be, Stevie?”

“What?”

He gestures at him with his fork. “You’re way overdressed to hang out at home on a Sunday morning.”

“Afternoon, technically,” Steve says with a smirk, gesturing at the clock. He’s right, it’s well past noon. “And no, I don’t have anywhere to be but I did,” he says cryptically.

“Okayyyy,” Eddie chuckles. “Are you gonna share with the class or—”

“I had to go to the bakery earlier.”

“What for?”

Steve grabs a paper bag that Eddie hadn’t noticed and slides it over the counter towards him. “To get this.”

“What’s that?” Eddie mumbles through a mouthful of bacon.

Steve reaches into the bag, retrieving a small box. Inside, there’s a cupcake.

Eddie blinks at it. “What? You were craving a cupcake overnight?”

“No, it’s for you,” Steve says, taking it out of the box and placing it in front of Eddie. “Happy anniversary.”

“Happy what now?” Eddie asks, confused.

“Happy anniversary!” Steve says again, like that’s supposed to explain everything.

It doesn’t.

“Anniversary of what? Chrissy’s death anniversary was yesterday, Steve, and I’ve never heard of people buying cupcakes to celebrate that—”

Steve’s eyes widen in alarm. “Dude, no!” he says, horrified. “That’s awful, no, this is a ‘happy anniversary of the day we met’ cupcake!”

Eddie narrows his eyes at him. “The day we—”

“We met, yeah,” Steve says, waving his hand between Eddie and himself. “You know, when you held that broken bottle to my neck.”

“Yeah, I remember that,” Eddie chuckles amusedly. “I just didn’t know that’s a thing people do.”

“It’s a thing I do,” Steve says with a shrug. “It was Robin’s idea. Ours is the day we started working at Scoops and I do it with Henderson too, though we never really figured out the actual date we met. And now you— I met you the day after Chrissy. Officially, I mean, so happy anniversary.”

A laugh tumbles from Eddie’s lips, something disbelieving. “You’re something else, Steve Harrington,” he says, “happy anniversary, I guess.”

Steve gives him a lopsided grin that makes Eddie’s heart flutter in his chest. Then he jumps out of his seat and snaps his fingers, like he just remembered something.

“Wait!” He starts rummaging around his kitchen until he comes up with a candle and a lighter. He sticks the candle into the cupcake and lights it up. “There, now you make a wish.”

“Isn’t that for birthdays, Steve?”

Steve waves his hand dismissively. “Hey, we came up with this so we can make our own rules. Ergo, you blow the candle out and make a wish.”

Eddie smirks. “Was ergo a word in your morning crossword?”

“It was, actually.” Steve rolls his eyes with fond exasperation. “Now shut up and blow!”

“Shouldn’t we both blow the candle and make a wish? Since it’s our anniversary?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, that’s not—”

“Not how it works?” Eddie asks, his lips stretching into a smirk. “I thought you said we could make our own rules.”

With a sigh, Steve nods. “I guess I did say that,” he says. “Fine, we both blow it out and make a wish.”

Eddie shoots him a smug grin.

Steve counts down from three and they both blow at the same time. Eddie’s wish is simple— he wishes that he and Steve can celebrate these anniversaries for many years. He wonders what Steve wishes for.

After scooping up some frosting with his finger, Eddie licks it off. It’s good. “Now what?”

Steve’s eyes follow the movement, his eyes darkening slightly when Eddie sucks on his finger. “Um, now you— you eat the cupcake.”

“Shouldn’t we both eat the cupcake?”

“No, Eddie, I got it for you,” Steve deadpans, rolling his eyes when Eddie insists on being difficult.

Eddie holds his hands up. “Geez, okay, okay!” He says, taking a bite. It’s sugary and sweet, and Eddie lets out an obscene moan that makes Steve’s eyes widen. “It’s good! Damn, I wish you’d told me about this anniversary thing before, I would’ve gotten you something too.”

Steve gives a half shrug. “You can get me something next year.”

And maybe it’s the certainty behind Steve’s words, like he knows they’ll celebrate many anniversaries, or maybe it’s everything he did for Eddie yesterday while he was grieving or what he’s been doing for Eddie for the past year. Maybe it’s the way his eyes keep darting to Eddie’s lips as he licks more frosting or maybe it’s just that Eddie loves Steve so much that he can’t help but lean in and press a kiss to his lips.

Steve makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, but Eddie feels the slightest press of lips against his mouth before he’s pulling back.

“Or I can give you that,” Eddie whispers, his eyes darting over Steve’s face. He looks a little dazed, but not like he wants to smash what’s left of the cupcake against Eddie’s face. Both are good signs.

“One— one kiss?” Steve stammers out.

“One kiss, multiple, my heart, me,” Eddie mumbles, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. “Whatever you want.”

“I want you, Eds,” Steve says with a dopey smile, using his thumb to wipe some frosting from the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “Probably since that day we met.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow in amusement while his chest flutters wildly. “When I held a broken bottle to your neck?”

“Guess a part of me thought that was hot,” Steve admits with a shrug. Then it’s his turn to scoop up some frosting and lick his finger clean. Watching Steve do it, Eddie understands why he was so distracted by it. “Hey, Eds?”

“Hm?” Eddie hums distractedly, his eyes not leaving Steve’s lips.

Steve moves his chair closer so his legs are bracketing Eddie’s. “If you are the cupcake in this scenario,” he says, lifting Eddie’s chin. His eyes twinkle playfully. “Does that mean I can make a wish if I blow you?”

The words make Eddie choke on his spit, his face turning an alarming shade of red. “Jesus H. Christ, Harrington!” Eddie sputters through a strangled laugh. “I say hell yeah. We make our own rules, right?”

“Right,” Steve agrees, smiling as he leans in for another kiss. He doesn’t pull away as quickly as Eddie did, letting their lips slide together, teasing the seam of Eddie’s lips with his tongue.

“Stevie?” Eddie whispers once their kiss slows down. He waits until Steve meets his eyes and flashes him a smile. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For everything. Yesterday was shitty, but you made it bearable and then you made today great,” Eddie says, cupping Steve’s face, brushing his thumb over his cheek. “I think I’ll always be sad about Chrissy, but now I also have something to celebrate. It’s kinda like, you have to go through bad things, yeah, but sometimes it leads you to some good ones, you know?” He scrunches his face slightly. “Cheesy as that sounds.”

Steve’s mouth twitches up. “Am I one of the good things?”

“Stevie,” Eddie chuckles softly, pulling Steve closer until their faces are only inches apart. “You’re the best thing.”

The words make Steve beam, then he throws his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. “Happy anniversary, Eddie.”

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steddielovemonth #steddiebingo2025 #steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes

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365emotionlessfaces · 3 days ago

Text

i’m literally so in love with her

The Aspiring Teachers Program

Part 4 WC:~1.8k

The next couple days came and went pretty much the same way. Melissa and her Aspiring One kept winning, or at least placing in the top three, and every time Melissa saw that bright smile, she found it harder to not kiss the girl. Their friendship had grown quickly over the past few days, and by the time dinner rolled around on the fourth day, they were practically inseparable. They had gotten so comfortable with each other, it almost felt weird to not be touching in some way or another, whether it was shoulders or knees touching, linking arms to walk around, or all out holding each other’s hands when they were only in need of one useful limb.

The days ended the same way, too. They would don their swimsuits and make their way to their private beach, laughing and bonding before dinner, which was also paired with laughs and smiles that neither of them would admit meant anything more. Her Aspiring one would tell her all the things she would do if she got to go home with Melissa, and Melissa allowed herself to imagine what it would be like. Having this pretty young thing there to treat her like a queen, all the time. Living a life with someone who went out of their way to do nice things and say nice things. She shook the thoughts from her head. This is just a kid. Even though Melissa knew that she’d be getting one helluva sweet deal, she knew that the kid had her whole life ahead of her, and Melissa would turn out to be the Joe in her life. Not being good enough for her.

So, instead Melissa would redirect the conversation and share horror stories from teaching, and when the girl didn’t waver in her dream of teaching, Melissa got to tell her all the things that made sharing her knowledge worth it.

They tried staying out as late as possible on the fourth night because they both knew that after dinner tomorrow, everyone would be packing up and heading back to their homes. Melissa couldn’t admit out loud that she wasn’t ready for this to end. Here was this girl promising Melissa the life she’d always wanted, and the redhead knew she’d have to give it up. So she just enjoyed her last night with the girl, and tried to push the dread for the morning out of her head.

Dreams came to Melissa fast, and unrelenting that night. Snippets of a life she could never have. Parent Trap sitting across from her at their table, eating dinner in the home they shared. Slow dancing in the living room while Burl Ives sings Christmas songs through the radio. Double dates with Barbara and Gerald. Looking through a maternity ward window at a tiny baby with a tiny bracelet that says SCHEMMENTI-

Melissa jolted awake and sat up quickly, mindful not to hit her head on the bunk above her. It was still dark, but almost out of instinct she looked across the room to Parent Trap’s bed. Melissa could just make out the silhouette of the young girl. She leaned against a post of the bed frame, and sighed.

‘I’m being ridiculous. I’ve got Joe at home to worry about, hopefully not for much longer, and what would Nonna say?’ Melissa huffed out a silent chuckle at the thought. ‘Might give ‘er a heart attack. Not even done with my divorce an’ I show up with a doll on my arm younger than the broad Joe had?’

After five minutes, the post was starting to dig into her back, so she decided to use the bathroom light to check her watch. When she saw she had ‘two freakin’ hours??’ until breakfast, she decided that she was gonna watch the sunrise from her little secret beach. As she dressed for the day, and exited the cabin as quietly as she could, Melissa hadn’t noticed that the star of her dreams had woken up.

Melissa only had about ten minutes between herself and nature before she heard footsteps approaching. She turned to see her Aspiring One with that beautiful smile, and those glittering eyes.

“Hey. Good mornin’, hon,” was the first words Melissa spoke for the day. Her voice was slightly groggy, despite being awake for a while now. She saw the young girl flush, and despite being slightly confused- she hasn’t blushed at ‘hon’ before-, she drank it in. This was the last day she’d ever get to see this gorgeous young girl and she’d like to spend it right by her side.

The girl took a seat next to Melissa and linked their arms before replying, “Morning, Em,” with a smile. The sun hadn’t made it over the trees across the small lake, but it was clear that it had come over the horizon behind them. The young girl didn’t say anything else, she just laid her head on Melissa’s shoulder. The redhead leaned her head against the top of the younger girl’s and they watched the sunrise in a comfortable silence. Melissa couldn’t help her mind wandering, imagining what it might be like to be able to wake up next to Parent Trap every day to watch the sunrise together.

After watching the beautiful colors cross the sky signaling the start of a new day, they pulled apart, but only slightly. “I’m really sad that we’re going home tonight,” the young girl said. Melissa hummed in agreement. “I really like you, Em. I wish we could go home together.” Melissa looked over to see the girl blushing again.

Melissa wished that, too, but she knew what she had to do. “Listen, kid-” The redhead was cut off when her Aspiring One placed their lips together softly. The kiss was brief, the young girl pulling away just as quickly as she had leaned in. Melissa had to use every ounce of self control not to throw everything out the window and just take the girl here on the beach.

“Sorry, I, uh, I just wanted to know what it would be like before you shot me down,” the girl said sheepishly. Melissa’s heart felt like it was shattering inside of her chest. They both knew what was about to come.

Melissa sighed before she spoke. The tears were already welling up in her eyes, so she looked down at her hands. “You’re young, you’re just a kid. You got your whole life ahead o’ ya. You’ve got school to go to, and I’ve got a divorce to win. I’d love nothin’ more than to be able to run away with you or somethin’, but I couldn’t do that to ya. It would never work, anyways. You need to go back home to Michigan, and go to school, and be the best teacher they ever see ‘round those parts.”

Melissa couldn’t bear to look back up to the girl. She finally let the tears fall when the girl stood and left, without saying anything more. Melissa couldn’t help but feel like she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Melissa and her Aspiring Teacher won the last contest, of course, but the young girl only spoke to Melissa when she had to. Her voice was still full of kindness, but it wasn’t as enthusiastic, and her eyes had lost their sparkle. Was the shine in the girl’s eye just in Melissa’s imagination? Now that she had broken the girl’s heart, and her own, she couldn’t seeit anymore?

At dinner, Parent Trap sat with a group of kids her age, instead of with Melissa. The redhead, unable to stand being in the same room as the girl without being able to be right next to her, took her dinner to go. On her trek back to the cabin, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to get a headstart on packing. Entering the cabin, she looked to the bed where her Aspiring One had spent the last week, and sighed, tears welling up once more. She’d been on the verge of crying too many times today for her liking.

Sandwich in one hand, she tried to use the other to heave her suitcase onto the bed. You would think that it being almost empty would have made the task easier, but somehow Melissa managed to almost drop her sandwich, which made her let go of the suitcase to make sure her dinner stayed safe and edible with both hands. As the case went tumbling, it opened and out fell a little stuffed eagle, clearly handcrafted, wearing a Philadelphia Eagles jersey and denim shorts.

“Oh, Ronny! I forgot about you,” Melissa mumbled aloud. She had brought Ronny along in case they did somethin’ stupid, like a show and tell type thing. She then, of course, would have told them that he’s named after the quarterback playing for the Eagles the year she started teaching. She bent over to pick him up, and as she stood back up, she had an idea to end on better terms with the young girl that may or may not have stolen Melissa’s heart in the span of a week.

Melissa was pacing when Parent Trap returned from dinner. Her bags, long packed, sat near the door waiting for her.

“Hey. I was waitin’ for ya. I, uh, I didn’t wanna leave without saying goodbye and tellin’ ya that, uh, that I’m really glad I met ya,” the girl looked back at Melissa and frowned, but waited for the redhead to continue. Melissa reached down and grabbed Ronny from where she had set him on Parent Trap’s bed. “I hope I didn’t steer you away from teachin’, I still think you’d be amazing at it. This is Ronny,” Melissa held him out to the girl. “I got him from a student on the last day of my first year. I want you to have ‘im.”

The girl took the stuffed eagle before replying softly, “Thanks, Em.” Melissa looked at her while the girl smiled back at her, but Melissa could tell that the smile would never reach the girl’s eyes. Her still-not-sparkling-anymore eyes. Melissa sighed a ‘You’re welcome,’ before heading towards the door.

As she grabbed the handle of her suitcase, she turned to look at the girl one last time. “Maybe in the future, we’ll meet again. When you’ve finished school, and I’ve finished with the disaster in mine,” Melissa told the girl hopefully. She knew how unlikely it was. She only knew the girl’s first name, and the girl didn’t know her name at all. How would they even find each other?

“Yeah… maybe,” floated across the room softly and quietly. The girl didn’t even turn back to look at Melissa as she said it. Melissa just put her head down, and left the cabin. She cried in the taxi, and on the plane, and in the other taxi, and even a little bit once she was home.

Part Five

#lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti x reader

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ladysomething · 2 days ago

Note

✄ for wygig please 💞

✄ DVD BONUS: pick a fic and I’ll describe or write a deleted scene!

actually!!! I now have a DOCUMENT with deleted scenes lmaooo.

one of them is absolutely huge, and it was originally supposed to be in the chapter where Max is in Milton Keynes. he runs into a pregnant omega in a restaurant and helps her get back on her feet. it's a really lovely scene, but was ultimately cut bc it added absolutely nothing to the story, HOWEVER I have it set aside because I'm going to repurpose it as a one shot eventually!

but here are parts that I cut from the most recent chapter.

when I originally this part, the necklace gifting and courting discussion was in like 5 chapters time, and I ultimately cut the below because ... well, there was less time between them getting together and the courting talk, so it no longer made sense.

“Do you think we fight too much?” Charles asks, reaching up to touch the pendant that’s now resting between his pecs.

“We never fight,” Max says dismissively.

Charles laughs. “Max, we disagree about everything. Our miscommunication is ridiculous at this point. Every time I think we have it under control, there’s just another thing we have to figure out.”

Max drops his hands. Charles turns back around, feeling warm and happy despite the conversation he’s brought up.

“I don’t think it’s a problem,” Max says eventually. “Because I—because we work through them, right?”

Charles gives him a small smile, finger caressing where the two circles interlock. “Right,” he agrees softly.

“I love you,” Max murmurs. “More than—more than anything. But there are always going to be things we disagree on. And I’m not keeping secrets purposefully.”

“You have a couple times,” Charles says. “About what the other alphas in the paddock were saying. About what you were going to do about them.”

Max purses his lips. “I’m working on it,” he says eventually. “I’ve never had a—a person before. A partner. Someone who would want to know, or who I could trust with it.”

Charles softens, and reaches out to take Max’s hand in his own. “Me either,” he admits. “But I want this to work, Max. So much.”

“I do, too,” Max says, squeezing his hand back. “It’s only been a few weeks since we—since the yacht. We’ll figure this out together.”

this next scene was also part of the chapter, and was literally included until about an hour before I posted the chapter. actually, fun fact, that scene also changed WILDLY at the last minute - all that talk about deciding to properly court and get married and return the claim was added on the day of posting lmaooo. the below is how the scene originally ended (basically max gave the gift, Charles got mad, max tried to take the gifts away, Charles got mad about that too, and then Charles told Max that courting means nothing to him and that he doesn't want to do it, and then they left it at that, and then when Charles went to kiss Max the below conversation happened).

probably I'll end up repurposing that final line from Charles, because it's good and worth saying.

“Just—before we do,” he says, a little nervously. “To be clear, this time. What do you think we are?”

“You’re my—” He breaks off, unsure what to say. Boyfriend sounds stupid. Partner, maybe. Mate? Except, technically, Charles is his mate, but Max isn’t Charles’. Eventually, he settles on, “You’re my Max. You’re mine.”

A slow smile creeps up Max’s face. “I am yours,” he swears. “And you’re mine?”

“I am,” Charles says, a smile blooming wide on his own lips. “Entirely, completely, in every way you can think of.”

#anon ask #where you go i go #wygig: snippet

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sleepymccoy · 11 months ago

Text

An intimacy, a surprise

Chapter one: Rather a good pair

McCoy spun the lady, Heather, around comfortably. They were dancing well under a speed that would challenge him. She knew the steps, and when she stumbled she stayed with him enough that he could keep them moving until she found her feet. He rather suspected she was stumbling more than natural, given how much she laughed when he picked her up slightly.

It all reminded him of Joanna.

The song came to an end, Heather laughed breathlessly as he placed her back down on her feet. She was likely thirty years older than him, but her joy for life was stronger than anyone he regularly knew. She was as thin as they come, he hoped she lived for another century. He thanked her, kissed her hand, and left for the bar.

With a thin glass of bubbly in hand he surveyed the room. Couples moved across the floor at varying degrees of skill. Still, colourful and pretty.

As he scanned his focus caught on Spock. Spock, at the same damn conference as him. He could see why, novel biology was up both their alleys really. But it still annoyed him.

But Spock looked nice now, expressionless (per usual) but fixated on the spinning pairs revolving across the room. His eyes flitted from one to another, interest held entirely.

McCoy picked up a second glass and launched off from the comfort of the bar.

“Want to dance?” he asked as he stood next to Spock.

He didn't flinch, probably heard him approach with those finely tuned, pointy ears.

“I am attempting to learn the basics,” Spock said softly. He didn't take his eyes off the floor.

McCoy placed his spare glass down by the crumbed prawn canapes. Prawn. On Mars. Heavens above who would eat seafood so far from natural water?

McCoy followed Spock's gaze and found a rather showy pair. The man's silly long tux flew behind him as they spun.

“Well, you won't manage that watching them,” McCoy muttered.

“Oh?”

“Them? He's trained in tango, but she's trying for classic.” He took as sip and decided Spock's silence was curious, not bored. “He keeps raising his arms in the hold and it's throwing her off. They're good at dips, but she keeps losing her balance on the straight stretches because they're dancing different dances.”

Spock sniffed in sharply. “Are they all dancing differently?”

McCoy hummed, swallowing his mouthful. “Everyone's making it up. Those two -” he pointed across the room at who he meant “- might've done a class, but likely not. These two near us are good at a slow waltz, but as soon as it speeds up they get messy.”

Spock turned and faced him. McCoy followed suit, giving him his attention. Face to face like this they stood slightly closer than usual.

“What are the basic steps?” Spock asked.

McCoy put his half glass of bubbly down and held his arms out, one hand hovering over Spock's waist while the other waited for his hand. “Let’s box step. I'll lead.”

Spock moved slowly, then hesitantly placed his hand in McCoy's waiting one. Their fingers dragged against each other, with Spock's hand just resting on his, not holding.

McCoy took Spock's other hand and lifted it to his shoulder. “Put your hand here,” he said. Spock’s hand sat lightly on his shoulder, touching the edge of his collar. “And -” he sighed and pulled Spock by their joined hands, “a bit closer, please, Mr. Spock - let me take a hold you.”

Spock stepped in as directed, and McCoy placed his hand on Spock's waist. Spock tensed on contact, so much muscle in him.

“That's right,” McCoy breathed. He moved his hand to Spock's lower back, holding him solidly, and took his hand properly. “Do you feel stable?”

Spock frowned at him. “Of course.”

McCoy rolled his eyes. Never mind all that politeness, then. “Right,” he snapped. “Box step, follow me.”

You can keep reading under the readmore or click this link to ao3

McCoy telegraphed his movements obviously until Spock got the swing of it, muttering vague encouragement and advice as he did.

Once they were moving smoothly he spoke. “Okay, look at me now.”

Spock looked up, glancing down every moment they took a step to ensure he followed.

“The steps aren't changing, Spock. Here-” he pulled Spock close, tugging him in by the waist. Their bodies pressed together firmly and, to McCoy pleasure and relief, Spock didn't withdraw.

He stepped the path of their dance slowly, exaggerating again. Spock followed with a breath of delay, keeping their thighs close. “You can feel what my legs are doing, yes?” McCoy whispered. “I'm pressed against you, so you don't need to see me move, you can feel it.”

They continued, Spock clinging to him like a coat of paint. Steadily they picked up speed, grace. A few times McCoy felt Spock move with a strength that was not helpful in someone meant to be following. McCoy would let it slide for now, but if they got up to spinning he was going to have to pull rank.

“What do you think?”

“There is more than just this.”

“Yes, but this is what we always return to,” McCoy said easily. “So you want it to be second nature. Is the amount of touch okay?”

Spock smirked. “Vulcan dance is far more intimate.”

“I recall you describing it before,” McCoy muttered. “Wouldn't've been my first guess. Knowing you, I've been left assuming all Vulcans are stuck up prudes.”

“Doctor, I must be allowed my eccentricities,” Spock said lowly, “but I am still Vulcan.”

“Don't I know it.”

Spock hadn't missed a beat as they spoke, he was quite the natural. Not that McCoy would tell him. “Want to try for a dip?” he suggested instead.

Spock raised his eyebrow. “You are in the lead.”

“Doesn't mean I'm in charge.”

They continued stepping together in perfect pattern.

“Yes, then,” Spock said.

McCoy talked him through it first. Spock's attention on him was absolute. “On the back step, the first we took, I'll turn you to the side. My hand will stay on your waist, but I'm letting go here.” As he spoke he released Spock's hand and placed his on Spock's trap.

“Your free hand goes to my shoulder, or wherever suits you. And then you dip. To the side. Do it shallow first so you know what coming out of it's like.”

Spock nodded. They reset their hands and continued to dance. McCoy muttered a warning, then turned them to the side. He pushed Spock back slightly, then kept his hands steady to show it was safe. Spock swayed back, his eyes unreadable on McCoy, then slowly returned to standing.

McCoy tried to keep the momentum of their dance, but there was something astounding in Spock's slow movement that broke the pattern. Still, they had to step. “And back into- there you are,” McCoy muttered. He cleared his throat. “Alright?”

“Indeed,” Spock said easily. “A simple process.”

McCoy kept the usual pattern for a few turns, letting Spock feel it as home.

It wasn't home, though, was it. This was McCoy's home, and Spock was doing well at it. McCoy grinned.

Perhaps it was time for him to step outside his comfort zone. Meet Spock halfway. Besides, all that talk of Vulcan dancing - he still couldn't imagine how Spock would embody it.

“You can be as Vulcan as you like about it, my dear,” McCoy said. “I can handle your culture.”

Spock simply raised his eyebrows.

“Going again,” McCoy warned, then stepped into position and swung Spock back.

Spock went far. His outer leg raised, dragging up along the outside of McCoy's thigh. McCoy had to bend into his lunge to keep balance as Spock leant back.

Spock stopped at the low of the dip, letting McCoy hold him. He trailed his hand down from McCoy's shoulder, dragging slowly down his arm.

McCoy realised he hadn't breathed and pulled Spock back to him. Spock righted himself at speed, almost destabalising McCoy as their chests slammed together.

One of Spock's legs pressed between his, forcing his thighs slightly apart. His other hand remained high and now slowly lowered to the ground. And Spock had, somehow, returned to him with a hand in McCoy's hair which echoed the slow downward drag of his leg, toying gently at his neck.

McCoy stepped forward with the leg between Spock's thighs, pressing into his crotch.

Spock's eyes flashed wish fiery curiosity. He straightened the mirrored leg out in line with McCoy's leg and took the step. McCoy kept him close, like orbits that couldn't split further apart now that they'd come near.

With a moment's hesitation, they took the next step, moving smoothly again. McCoy dragged his hand up Spock's back, feeling his muscles engage as they stepped familiarly. As he did, Spock's hand left his neck and traveled gently down his arm.

Spock gasped in a breath. McCoy turned his face in towards the sound and felt McCoy's skin on his lips. The air was hot here.

McCoy’s hand reached Spock's upper back, so he pulled around to his chest and pushed him into another dip.

Spock resisted for a moment, then went with the movement. His hand gripped McCoy's wrist as he lowered over McCoy's leg. They kept eye contact as Spock bent, and McCoy found himself leaning forward to stay close.

Spock came out of it slowly, and McCoy did some slightly clever footwork without really considering if Spock would keep up. He stepped over Spock, half spinning him to standing. Spock didn't keep up, but he let himself be pulled and placed standing.

They were close, as they tended to be in this dance, McCoy with a hand on Spock's back and another in his hair. Spock began to take McCoy's hand, crawling up from his wrist and pulling it from Spock's hair. McCoy clutched Spock's hand and pressed his other hand’s fingers into Spock's back muscle. He stepped forward, and Spock followed naturally backwards. They returned to the dance.

“You didn't warn me that time,” Spock breathed. His lips brushed McCoy's cheek when he spoke.

McCoy felt Spock's leg press against his thigh on one of the steps, leaving him slightly breathless. He was half hard, Spock was bound to know. He'd likely take it as a cultural compliment, knowing him. Contrary bastard.

“But you knew it was coming,” McCoy said. “We make rather a good pair.”

“We always have done, Doctor.”

McCoy laughed and felt it vibrate back to him through Spock's chest. How wonderful.

“I think we're terrible,” McCoy said.

Spock shook his head and straightened his posture, moving his mouth further from McCoy's. “You are disagreeing out of habit,” he said, his voice back to its usual unaffected way. It wasn't until he spoke now that McCoy realised how low and purring Spock's voice had become.

But he swallowed his interest and shrugged instead. “And you're just naturally condescending,” he said as blandly as he could. It didn’t sound particularly bland, he could hear the shiver in his throat coming through in his voice. Ah well, a man’s gotta try.

Spock smirked. He resisted McCoy's next step forward, bringing them to still. McCoy frowned sharply, then realised the music had been replaced with applause.

He let go of Spock's hand and stepped back. Someone was speaking into a squeaky microphone; the dancing had stopped. McCoy was breathless.

“Well done,” McCoy said quickly. He turned to the table and picked up his glass, downing the half of bubbly that remained. “We can revisit tomorrow night, maybe add spins?”

“Very good, Sir.”

McCoy faced Spock and took him all in. He was flushed, ears green. Gaze steady, but eyes bright. As McCoy looked he stood straighter.

“Night cap?” McCoy offered, his voice hushed as the speech onstage became a serious of slides presented with little commentary.

Spock glanced out at the room, then nodded.

McCoy picked up his remaining full glass of bubbly and led Spock out. “We'll have to sneak it back, I didn't bring a drink with me.”

Spock took the glass from McCoy smoothly and shrugged his long sleeve to cover it.

At McCoy's look he said, “No one questions a Vulcan.”

Well, sure. They nodded at the door attendant and made it to the lobby unchallenged.

“Cute, Spock.”

Spock made a noise of displeasure.

McCoy jabbed the elevator button and leaned against a column, watching the thoroughly innocent Vulcan.

Spock bit his lower lip, but kept his gaze steady on McCoy.

McCoy tilted his head to the side. He was going to kiss this man if something didn't change soon. That was a fucking shock. He breathed out and leaned his head against the column.

Spock broke the eye contact, swallowing hard and glancing up to the elevators current level, then over to a plant.

The lift bell sounded. McCoy laughed emptily, shook his head in disbelief, and slid into the elevator. Nothing had changed. Spock followed.

As the door closed McCoy went to him. His hand found Spock jaw first, his thumb at the corner of his mouth.

Spock went still, facing him, and McCoy continued the movement. He was a hairsbreadth from Spock when the fucker spoke.

“Doctor, they have cameras in the lifts here,” Spock gasped.

McCoy pulled back. What? He frowned. “They do?” he asked. He stepped back, glancing up for a sign of a camera. “What kind of surveillance state bullshit needs cameras in the lifts?” he muttered.

Spock's shoulders dropped. McCoy’s attention returned to him. “Wait, why don't you want to be seen with me on camera?”

Spock let out a sharp sigh. “I don't want to be seen doing anything on camera.”

McCoys head moved smoothly as he considered that, ending in a slow negative shake. “There are cameras on the Enterprise,” he disagreed.

Spock hesitated. His hand, the one not still subtly hiding McCoy's glass of bubbly, gripped the handrail. “I have never attempted to dance with you on board.”

McCoy nodded. He kept nodding as he thought.

Not on the Enterprise. That suited him quite well, really. Keep work at work.

He hadn't begun to dissect Spock's behaviour tonight, but this made sense in a way some deep seated romance didn't. He was surprised there was anything on Spock's part, but he wasn't shocked.

He wasn't going to even start on himself, though.

“Have I offended you, Doctor?

McCoy grinned sourly. “Whether private or public, Spock, dear, if you're thinking about kissing me you call me Leonard.”

Spock was quiet. The bell chimed and the doors slid open.

McCoy kept watching Spock. He needed something to go off, something to react to or he'd just get angry. But Spock simply left the elevator.

McCoy followed. “No, why the hell won't you kiss me on camera, hm?” he asked.

Spock turned his face towards McCoy once to indicate where his attention was. Their rooms, absurdly and coincidentally across from each other, were at the end of the long corridor.

“You object to my preference for privacy?” Spock asked, continuing to walk away quickly.

“Who's watching that'll care? On the ship, sure, but no one gives a fig about us here!”

Spock didn't respond. McCoy considered shouting at him, but decided he would probably not live that down.

They reached their shared end of the corridor. Spock opened his own door deftly and face McCoy.

“Are you coming in?” he asked.

“With an invitation like that, I'd prefer a lobotomy!” McCoy snapped. He turned and wrestled his own door open before Spock responded, slamming it behind him.

His body tingled with electric heat and anger. He groaned and raised his hands to his face. “Fuck.”

He was still fucking hard.

A couple of words occurred to him, and with them was an excuse to return. He threw his door open and strode across the hallway. Spock had left his door slightly ajar, McCoy was going to absolutely fuck him into the ground for that.

He let himself in and closed the door.

Spock stood at the window, lone wine glass on the table next to him. He turned silently and faced McCoy, his face again blank.

“I don't mind a one night stand,” McCoy snapped, “keeping it as quiet as you like, what I mind is the suggestion that you should be embarrassed to be found.”

“I do not feel embarrassment.”

McCoy waved his arms, immediately furious. “Liar!” He pointed at Spock. “More importantly, you feel desire.”

Spock shrugged. “That is physical.”

McCoy crossed the floor to him, aware that his tone was nearly a rant. “So’s embarrassment. And fear, and fucking joy when you get down to it.”

He drew up next to Spock, standing right by him. Spock turned slowly and met his gaze squarely.

“You let your emotions rule you more than the average human does,” Spock said. Bitchily. Like a little bitch.

McCoy swallowed, there was some emotion caught up in his throat. “Someone's got to make up for you,” he said. His voice was softer than he intended.

“I am not embarrassed,” Spock complained. “Why should I share such a moment with any other?”

McCoy frowned and swallowed again. He sighed heartily and glared at the corner of the room for a beat. Such a moment. Fuck.

“That was a bit romantic, Spock,” McCoy pointed out.

“No it wasn't.”

McCoy laughed, surprising himself with it. “You're disagreeing out of habit,” he snapped.

Spock raised his eyebrow. “And are you not condescending?”

McCoy grinned, irritation and lust both rising in him. “You piss me off,” he said forcefully.

“Like I say, a slave to your emotions.”

“Private enough for you in here?”

Spock’s eyes glanced at the door, then the window. “Yes.”

And so McCoy risked the universe, and kissed him.

Click here to read the rest on ao3, there's another 18 chapters <3

#spones #spones fic #man i hope the readmore is in an appropriate spot #so hard to gauge how long thisll be on mobile #i don't want ot give people an awful wall of text #but i also want to get to the point where they dance or you won't have the hook #grumble grumble #anyway theres 17 of 19 chpaters posted!#and the last two are posting in the next few days

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