#and then doubled down defensive claiming it wasn’t obvious

[stylishanachronism]

Still thinking about that one review of Howling Dogs like what the fuck

[boldlyvoid]

Double Cross

18+ Eddie Munson x Henderson reader part 2 of Double Trouble

Summary: She picks Eddie and Steve just has to be okay with it.

warnings: angst, siblings fighting, apologies, meeting Wayne, oral (f), protected p in v smut, getting caught by mom

word count: 4.2k

Their mom won’t be home for a few hours yet, so it’s her responsibility to wake the little shit up for school and make sure he gets there okay. However, Dustin hasn’t talked to her in 2 days. 

Not since everything went down.

He simply wakes up, waits his turn for the bathroom, has an angry bowl of corn pops and begrudgingly washes his dish without saying a single word to her. She tries asking questions about his sleep, and she tries to apologize again… but jeopardizing his relationship with Steve for a chance with Eddie wasn’t something he could easily forgive her for doing. 

Steve had every right to be upset that she didn’t pick him, she could understand that. But he was acting like a child thinking he had some weird claim on her, like calling dibs was still a viable solution to all the crushes he couldn’t admit to. 

“I’m going to fix it,” she admits before he can leave the room. “Dustin, I promise, I’m going to fix this.” 

“Don’t,” he turns and points at her, angrier than she’s ever seen him. “You’re just going to mess it up further. Leave Steve alone, keeping fucking Eddie if you want to, I don’t care, just give my best friend, the person I consider family, a goddamn break and leave him alone!” 

“I didn’t know,” she cries. “How was I supposed to know he loved me?” 

“It was obvious! And I thought you liked him too… you can drive, you have a car, why do you depend on Steve? It’s not for the mutual interests you can talk about, you have none!”

“And what do you talk to him about? He’s 5 years older than you Dustin? Don’t you think that’s weird?” 

“And you’re acting like you’re 8 instead of 8 years older than me,” he spits back. “This isn’t the playground, I know you’re not a toy they’re fighting over, but you can’t sit here and look me in the eye and say what you did to Steve was okay. He was standing up for you while Eddie tried to make him feel like shit and you let him.”

“It was all Eddie’s doing, you know how he can be,” she puts the blame on him, which she was fine with doing seeing as he hasn’t talked to her since that night either. “I wanted him to get to know Steve, I wanted them to be friends too, it would’ve been nice to have both of them in my life, like how you have them…”

“I need them,” he starts to cry. “I don’t have other siblings… you have older siblings on your dad's side, I don’t. Steve was there for me during some shit that I can’t even explain and I thought Eddie had my back, I thought he wanted me in hellfire cause he liked me and wanted me there, and I come to find out through Gareth that Eddie’s always had a crush on the Henderson girl… what if he just invited me into the group to get to you? How is that supposed to make me feel, Y/N?” 

“I’m sorry,” she opens her arms, hoping he’d walk into them and accept her hug. Slowly, but surely, he does. He holds her tight and sniffles, “I’m so sorry Dusty, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I can’t believe it did— it happened so fast I couldn’t even stop it before it was too late.” 

“Do you know what you’re going to do?” He asks while pulling back. 

She shakes her head, crying harder, “no, I have no clue what to do.” 

“Do you love Steve?” 

“What?” She gets defensive. 

“It’s okay if you don’t,” he whispers placing a gentle hand on her arm. “Or if you do… I get it. I was telling Steve before you got home that he should ask you before it’s too late, I was completely okay with it and then everything blew up.” 

“I don’t know,” she whispers. “I had a better time with Eddie on Friday than I’ve had with anyone in years… I’m sure Steve could make me happy, I know he’d treat me right and everything, but it just doesn’t feel right?” 

“Oh,” Dustin’s shoulders drop. “If things didn’t happen with Eddie, would you feel different?” 

She shrugs and opens her mouth to speak but she doesn’t know what to say. “I honestly don’t think so… I love having Steve in my life but I can't imagine kissing him or spending my life with him in that sense and you’re supposed to want that when you love someone like that, right?” 

He nods, “yeah, and you can’t force it.” 

“You really cant,” she sighs. “Is Steve coming to get you this morning or should I see if my car will start?” 

“I’ll give him till quarter to, and then can you drive me if he isn’t here?” Dustin has a glimmer of hope left in him, he really hoped things could resolve themselves and go back to normal. 

“Okay, go finish getting ready,” she lets him head off, watching with a sad smile as he heads into his bedroom. 

He’s grown up way too much for her liking. Chats like this were supposed to be things she had with their mom, but now he’s 14 and smart and just like her. Their mom did a wonderful job with him, without the help from his dickhead dad, Y/N even took a little of the credit with pride.

Steve could take some credit too, he was the one who taught Dustin how to control his curly mop of hair after all. And Eddie… she hoped to god he wasn’t using Dustin to get to her, but from the way he thought they might be cousins, she was hopeful that it was just a coincidence that Dustin ended up in Eddie’s life. 

Sometimes things fell apart for a reason, sometimes the landslide dug up things that were supposed to be unearthed, and sometimes the world looks a little better with the new layout. 

“Hey, I’m gonna drive you in regardless, I have stuff to do before work tonight,” she calls through his door on her way to her own room. She wanted to talk to Eddie, she had to make sure this wasn’t a mistake, that the feelings were still there and that he actually cared for her brother and his little dork friends. 

“Okay!” He called back, muffled by what she expected was the sound of his head stuck in a sweater. 

She slipped into a pair of jeans, and she threw on a shirt without really any consideration for how she looked, if Eddie wanted her then he better get used to her looking like this. It was who she really was anyway. She brushed her teeth, checked her hair and grabbed her purse only to have to wait another 5 minutes for Dustin to get his ass down the stairs and his shoes on his feet. 

She twirled her keys around her fingers and reached for the doorknob, “ready?” 

“Yeah,” he sighs, gripping his backpack like his life depended on it. 

She swings the door open just in time to see Steve rolling up to the curb. “Oh…” she feels her stomach drop right into her ass. 

“I’ll go with him, you can just do what you were going to do,” Dustin heads off in front of her and runs to Steve’s passenger door. 

She walks quickly behind him and right up to Steve's window that he’s already rolling down. “Hey,” he’s the first to talk to her. 

“Hey,” she gives him a small smile. “I’m sorry… really, I didn’t mean to hurt you and Eddie—

Steve gets out and wraps her up in a hug before she can continue. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have acted like that. I was a total meat head.” 

She finally relaxes in his arms, feeling like everything was going to be okay again for the first time in 48 hours. “I’m still sorry.” 

“It’ll be fine,” he assures her. “Where are you headed to?” 

She doesn’t know how to answer as she pulls away, “I uh, I was going to try and catch Eddie before class… I remembered Dustin saying something about him never going to first period.” 

“So you’re going to his trailer,” he sighed. “I know I have to get over it, I’m trying.” 

“It’s okay,” she places a hand on his cheek and smiles. “I appreciate you wanting me to stay safe and happy, I promise the second I stop being happy or safe with him, I’ll tell you.” 

He nods, sad eyes making her want to break down, “just as long as I’m not some replacement to fill the void when he’s gone.” 

“You’ve never been that for me, Steve, you’re my best friend,” she affirms her feelings for him. “And I’m sorry I don’t feel anything more, I really wish I did.” 

“I’m just glad you’re not faking it with me,” he’s honest. “Believe me, it hurts a lot more when you’re a year into telling someone you love them and they haven’t felt a single bit of it back for you.” 

“I’m going to be late for school at this rate!!” Dustin complains from inside the car. “Can you kiss and make up later?” 

“Go,” she giggles, smacking Steve's butt lightly as he turns around. “Drive safe, I’ll see you later?” 

He nods, “come by the store?”

“You know it!” She calls back while he gets into his car. She waves them off as they drive away and heads then into the garage to get her own car. 

She drives carefully, not used to being behind the wheel after all this time, she does, however, make it to the trailer park in one piece. She parks behind Eddie’s van, there was an old pickup parked beside it that she suspected belonged to his uncle. 

She didn’t want to knock and wake him up, either of them really, she knew Wayne worked night shifts so if he was home, he was probably just getting to sleep. Instead, she went around to the side door by Eddie’s room and peeked in the window, seeing Eddie folding some laundry in the hallway in nothing but his boxers. She knocks lightly and waves when he looks over at her. 

“Hey, cutie,” she teases when he opens the door. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Do you not want—

“No, no I just mean it’s super early?” He didn’t want her to read too much into what he said. “You wanna come in?” 

She nods, “I didn’t want to wake your uncle by knocking on the front door.” 

“Oh, he’s not asleep yet, he just made breakfast,” Eddie waves it off. “You want some bacon? I think we still have—

“We don't!” Wayne yells from the kitchen and makes his way around the corner to see who Eddie is talking to. “Just ate the last slice, sorry, hun.”

“That’s alright, I’m Y/N,” she reaches out to shake his hand. “I’m uh, well, that’s why I’m here…” she turns to Eddie with confusion. “I haven’t heard from you since everything went down at my place?” 

“Oop,” Wayne feels awkward. “I’ll leave you to it, it’s lovely to meet ya, though.” 

“You too!” She lets him walk away and hauls Eddie into his bedroom. “I talked to Steve about it already…” 

“You did?” Eddie took a seat on his bed with a sigh. “So you’re friends again?” 

She nods, “is that okay?” 

“I’m not going to tell you who you can and can’t talk to, babe,” he makes it as clear as possible. “I’m not that kinda guy, but if he messes with you, or makes a move, I won’t hesitate—

“No,” she points at him with a stern look on her face. “No more macho tuff guy shit, I want you and Steve to be friends, or at least civil if this is going to work out. Not only for me but for Dustin. I can handle being single, but I can’t handle him being big brother-less.” 

Eddie sighs, “I hate how much I love that little twerp.” 

“Me too,” she can’t help but laugh, she sits beside him on the bed. 

“Come on, get cozy with me,” he offers, tossing the covers back and getting situated with her on his chest before he pulls the comforter back up and snuggles in. “I’m sorry I never called after… but I never got your number and I didn’t want to just show up again in case he was there and it got worse cause I have a big mouth.” 

She snuggles in close to him, playing with his chest hair delicately while she listened. “It’s okay, I needed time to process it all and work things out with Dustin.” 

“How is he doing?” 

“Okay now that we talked… I have a question?” 

“Okay?” He’s nervous about that. 

“Did you invite him into hellfire because you wanted to get close to me?” 

“What?” He laughs, “no? Where’d he get that from?” 

“Gareth—

“Is a little shit,” Eddie finishes it for her. “He likes to haze the new kids by telling them lies to make them feel like they have to work harder to stay in the club as if he has any say. He’s a dick sometimes. I’m sorry. I’ll talk to them.” 

“Okay,” she’s relieved, fully able to settle into bed beside him and relax. “I’m sorry about everything… I really, really just wanted you to meet him I didn’t think I’d end up snapping at him—

“Well horny you is a different person,” he teases. “If we weren’t so infatuated with each other I think it could’ve gone a bit better.” 

She laughs slightly, dragging her hand down his chest and under the covers towards the hem of his boxers. “Yeah… but I mean, it was too good not to be all over you again.” 

“Ah, ah,” he stops her hand before he gets going too much and can’t take back his actions again… so she just starts to kiss him instead. Along the side of his neck, his collarbones, she keeps going and he almost loses his train of thought. “I have a rule w-with Wayne… no funny business when he’s home.” 

“Boring,” she mumbles against his chest, looking up at him with pleading eyes as she presses a kiss to his nipple, making him gasp. 

“No,” he whispers, “you don’t know how hard that is to say to you… but I can’t.” 

She sighs and sits up, “fine, get your clothes on. Come on, my place is empty.” 

He laughs but he follows her out of the bed, reaching for his jeans on the floor and jumping into them quickly. 

“Mind if I wait out there?” She points to the living room and Eddie nods. 

“Just don’t listen to him, I’m not as bad as he says,” Eddie forewarns her.

“I doubt that,” she shoots him a quick wink and heads out of the room. 

She’s only been there once, but it was quite easy to memorize. She finds Wayne in the kitchen, elbow deep in dishwater as he cleans their plates from the morning. “Hey there, doll face.” 

“Hi,” she smiles. “Sorry for barging in like this, I tried to be respectful of your schedule.” 

“Don’t worry, I like to make sure he’s off to school before I head to bed, he’s gotta graduate at some point,” he reminds her. He takes his hands from the water and wipes them off, turning to her with a knowing smile. “He has a test in 3rd period, don’t let him miss it.” 

“I won’t,” she means it. “I want him to graduate too…” 

“Good. We’re on the same page,” he gives her a smile. “All I ask is that you take care of him, he’s all I got and I rather not see him get his heart broke in two.” 

“I don’t intend to, sir,” she stands tall, keeping eye contact, she feels like most boys in a forbidden love story. “I like Eddie more than I care to admit already…” 

His small smile becomes a glorious Munson smirk, one she’s seen on Eddie a few times already. “Well, then I should probably get use’ta seein’ you around more?” 

“Probably,” she smiles, catching Eddie in the corner of her eye as he makes his way out of his room, dressed and ready to go. 

“You drove here?” Eddie asks, peeking out the window to see a car behind his van.

She nods, “yeah, I can drive you to school and pick you up later?” 

“Sounds good,” he wraps his arm around her and kisses the top of her head. “See ya, uncle Wayne, I’ll try to be home before you leave tonight.”

“Still love ya even if you’re not,” Wayne reminds him. 

“Love you!” Eddie calls back, opening the main door and letting Y/N out first. 

“See ya, Wayne!” She calls out just for good measure. 

She digs her keys from her pocket and offers them to him, “you wanna drive?” 

“What year is she?” Eddie asks, admiring the old impala carefully, without touching the paint. 

“’67, it was my dad's,” she shares. “He taught me how to drive stick and then she became mine.” 

He takes the keys from her, jaw still slightly agape, “she’s beautiful…”

“Thanks,” she chuckles. “I barely drive her.” 

Eddie unlocks the driver's door and lets her scoot in first. That was the best part about these bench seats in old cars, she could just slide on over to her seat, or she could sit in the middle and snuggle into his side while he drove. She did that, instead. Head on his shoulder, she watches him drive a little too fast into her cul-de-sac and right into the driveway. 

His lips are on hers the second they’re back inside, she moves them up the stairs without breaking the kiss making them bump into everything. They’re giggly, it’s happy, she wants him so, so bad. He pushes her against her closed bedroom door as soon as they close it, kissing down her neck as he works on the buttons of her jeans. 

Before she knows it she’s naked and on the bed with him all over her. 

He kisses down her body, hand on her lover's back as she arches, he drags his bottom lip from her belly button to her cleavage. Nipping and sucking at the exposed skin on her chest, pulling her breasts out of the bra to suck on her nipples, she moans and it’s louder than she expected.

As she plays with his hair, he marks her, bruising small little love bites all the way down as he makes his way between her legs, “take me, please?”

“Tell me how badly you want me?” He asks as he spreads her legs and kisses her left thigh.

“Please, Eddie, please, I’ve been wanting you back inside of me all weekend long,” she begs. “You’re the best I’ve ever had, holy shit. Please?” 

With a broad lick, his tongue flattens against her core and it shuts her up. She gets what she wants, holding into his hair as she tosses her head back, she moans softly, “oh, right there.” 

“Keep talking,” the vibrations of his voice against her skin are glorious, he looks up at her through his lashes as his tongue flicks over her clit and she shakes a bit.

“Fuck me?” She mumbles, recovering slowly her mind feels foggy but she knows she wants more. 

He slips out of his clothes finally, matching her naked form as he lays back down on top of her. He kisses the side of her mouth and down her neck, she wraps her legs around him so his hard cock is pressed right against her core as they move their hips in synchronicity with each other. His breathing is heavy as he kisses her cheek and jaw, her nails scratching down his back, he feels absolutely amazing against her. 

She feels so empty, she wants him so bad she’s clenching around nothing as she squirms against his cock and wishes she was full. “Please?” 

“I need a condom,” he whispers, I forgot to grab one when we were leaving. 

“My drawer,” she mumbles, reaching out for her night table but she can't reach it. 

He pulls back enough to do it for her, he finds her condom box, new and never opened, with a smile. “You buy this for me?” 

She shakes her head with a laugh, “mom got them when Steve started sleeping on the couch she was sure we were sneaking around.” 

“Well, Claudia,” he takes a condom from the box and rips it open with his teeth. “Wrong boy you needed to worry about.” 

“Shut up,” she can’t help but laugh. “She just doesn’t want to be a grandma at 40.” 

“Wayne says the same thing,” he sighs as he rolls the condom over his hard cock, “fuck, baby you made me so hard I could explode.” 

“Fuck me a little first before you finish,” she pulls him in closer, colliding her mouth with his as he slips inside. They moan in tandem, into each other's mouths. Her legs wrap around him again, and he rocks into her with precision and force, hitting every spot she wants him to. 

She’s never been one to cum from penetration alone and yet she feels so close every time his cock makes contact with her cervix. She cries out in pleasure, whinging almost as he kisses her neck and collarbones and fucks her with fervour. Snaking a hand between their bodies, he rubs her clit for good measure, “you wanna cum again baby? Wanna cum on my cock? Fuck… I wanna cum when I feel you pulse around me, feels so good baby,” he rambles, lost in pleasure, he can’t stop the words from tumbling out. 

She moans, unable to speak she’s so fucked out, nodding like a bobble head she wants to cum so, so badly. 

“There you go,” he starts to feel her legs twitch and her cunt flutter, “cum for me, baby.” 

Gripping his back impossibly tight, her nails drag down his back, ripping his skin open in the process. He hisses at the feeling but only fucks her harder, cumming at the same time she did, he really couldn’t hold back. He drops against her, a panting mess as he wraps his arms under her and holds her close, head in the crook of her neck. 

“Holy fuck,” he sighs. 

“Yeah,” she can barely breathe, still twitching all over as her body calms down from the high. “Fuck…” 

They get barely 2 seconds to gather themselves when she hears quick footsteps running up the stairs and her door twisting open. 

“Hey, why is your car parked in the drive— oh my,” her mom walked right into her room then, without knocking, because she had no reason to suspect this behind the closed door. 

“MOM!” She pushes Eddie out and tosses him off her, off the bed and onto the floor on the side where he’d be hidden best on the floor, and covers herself with the blanket. “I didn’t think you’d be home yet?!” 

“I uh, oh wow,” she was really at a loss for words, unable to close her eyes, “um… who’s this?” She points to Eddie, now sat on the floor, head peeking up over the mattress, hair a mess, he waves. 

“I’m Eddie… uh, Dustin's friend?” 

“Dungeon master Eddie?” She gasps, “does dusty know about this?”

She nods, “uh yeah… it was a bit of an issue this weekend.” 

“You didn’t— not with him in the house?” 

“Oh no,” she waves her hands, anxiously. “We were at Eddie’s, he brought me back and got in a tiff with Steve… it was a whole thing but it’s fine now.”

“I’m sorry I can’t come over there and shake your hand, Mrs. Henderson,” Eddie apologizes before Y/N can get any further into things. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Right,” she takes that as her queue to leave. “I’m just going to unpack… try not to be too loud?”

“Yep,” she presses her lips together awkwardly and closes her eyes, this was more embarrassing than anything else in her life. 

As soon as the door is closed again, Eddie gets up off the floor, “you know you could’ve broken my dick launching me across the room like that?” 

“I’m pretty sure my mom seeing you balls deep in me is somehow more painful than that,” she covers her face with her hands and falls back against the pillows. 

Eddie wraps his arms around her, holding her close, “at least she was cool about it.” He snuggles his face into the crook of her neck and gives her a few kisses. “Think she’d let me stay over every once in a while?” 

She nods, removing her hands from her face to take a good look at him, “I’m 22 and pay rent here, I can have whoever I want over… but even if that wasn’t the case, probably. She’s really cool.” 

“So I’ve heard,” he muses. “Dustin’s always talking about the cool things you guys do together as a family.”

“And now you’re a part of it.” 

@fightingdragonswithwho @mrs-dr-reid @kyomito @reidselle @venomsvl @nomajdetective @girl-with-an-orange-cat @stevesmunsons @blairscott @sweetyyhippyy @wroteclassicaly @reidsbookclub

[pla-teau]

WANDAVISION EPISODE 6 THOUGHTS

SPOILERS AHEAD. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!

GOOD GOD I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS

GIF NOT MINE

pietro maximoff as ‘himself’ | in the opening credits, pietro is introduced as playing himself? this just made me more suspicious about him and who he really is. it’s like wanda (since she’s the one broadcasting her show) trying to convince us, and herself, that this is her dead brother.

billy talking to us | i know tommy talks to the camera at the beginning for a brief minute but it’s mainly billy talking. i think this was a hint at his incoming powers. plus, in promo trailers for the ‘modern family’ episode, wanda’s the one talking to the camera. i bet we’ll see the kids talk to the camera in that episode but i just find it interesting that billy’s the one leading us through the beginning of the episode. plus, in rewatching the episode, pietro seems to be aware of billy talking to us and reacts to when billy talks about vision and wanda’s relationship going through a rough patch.

haydick hayward’s an ass | there’s no denying that hayward has something up his suspicious ass. first with showing the footage of wanda stealing vision’s body. then, putting in a missile and planning on killing wanda. yea, the five years were hard for everyone - no one’s denying it but there’s just something that isn’t right. we clearly see that he’s hiding something when darcy finds a file of sorts that only hayward can see and that he’s been able to track vision without telling the team. either he’s got a personal vendetta or he’s covering for something more sinister. personally, i think he’s just pissed that wanda, one of the most powerful beings in the universe, took away vision’s body when he needed it to create more weapons and whatever else he was planning. i wanted monica to punch him in the throat when he told her it was better that she wasn’t around when her mom died. bless monica for keeping her cool.

wanda’s interaction with herb | their brief interaction makes me believe that herb is just as aware as agnes (if she happens to be a victim in all this and not agatha harkness) about what’s happening. we got a hint about it in episode 3 when he tried to tell vision what geraldine’s purpose in westview was. we see him mimic agnes from the previous episode when he asks wanda if there’s anything she wants changed. he looks to her the same way agnes did when she was thrown off script. both these times involve vision throwing everything off. vision’s the one that’s been off script from the beginning of the episode this time around instead of after a weird event.

residents being in a loop or immobile | as vision gets farther from wanda and explores westview, it’s evident that there’s something off about the people. we get that shot of the woman and presumably her husband stuck in a time loop of hanging decorations and putting a pumpkin on the front steps. the woman not only sheds a tear but her hands look purplish presumably because of the cold or being stuck doing the same task for god knows how long. clearly, the woman’s in pain and is aware that she can’t break free. as vision gets closer to the loop, residents are completely immobile and stuck wherever they stand. it’s eerie and further proves that this may be wanda’s doing and wherever she is, it’s easy for the residents to be active or for her to control those near her. it could also mean that the closer you are to the hex’s border, that you become immobile as you’re farther removed from the fantasy life wanda has created.

yo-magic commercial | by far the creepiest and most disturbing commercial in the series. i’ve seen people theorize that this commercial is referring to wanda’s detainment on the raft in civil war. it would make sense since the yogurt could represent wanda’s powers and opening the lid should be simple and easy, just like using your powers. on the raft, wanda was detained with a straitjacket and a collar on her neck so she couldn’t use her magic. the island could represent the raft since it was in the ocean. ‘yo-magic, the snack for survivors’ could represent wanda being a survivor in many instances: strücker’s experiments, the battle of sokovia and the lagos incident.

pietro’s ‘part’ | when wanda questions pietro, he gets defensive about how he’s just trying to do his part: come unexpectedly, create tension with vision, stir up trouble with the twins, and ultimately give wanda grief. grief holding a double meaning. obviously, pietro did bring wanda grief when he died in 2015 but it also means to cause trouble which he has done since his arrival to westview. whenever wanda questions him about their childhood or tries to trip him up, pietro retorts with a question or makes rather meta remarks about westview.

the details are fuzzy | the comment pietro makes after a moment of silence between them. he claims he got shot in the middle of the street and next thing he knew wanda was calling her. i think when ‘pietro’ was brought into the westview reality, his memories mixed with those of wanda’s pietro or skewed them at least - it’s probably why things seem hazy to him and can see that wanda doesn’t believe him to be the pietro she remembers. pietro knows he looks different to wanda and it’s like a comment to us because even though pietro only appeared in one movie with wanda - we the audience know he’s not the same actor. this could also be mephisto really mind tripping wanda because she would remember what her brother looked like but the memories are remembered differently. enough to keep her on edge with him and make her suspect but not want to because he also says “i knew you needed me” no stranger would say that right? of course, siblings and family can tell when another member needs them. this episode really makes you laugh at pietro’s antics but go down a rabbit hole with every line he says.

the hex’s effects on people | when darcy explains to monica that her cells have been greatly affected by her entrance and departure from the hex, it doesn’t seem like monica is surprised. maybe this is hinting that monica already has her powers or simply mean that she’s putting on a poker face to hide her fear (or astonishment) at wanda’s level of power. it’s interesting to see if wanda’s gonna be responsible for birthing some mutants or at least awakening the x gene if it hasn’t already. does it mean that anyone can simply leave or that if you leave, you’ll come out with serious side effects that are possibly life threatening? monica states at the end that she’s seen cells in remission which makes me believe that this is hinting at the x gene. we’ve seen what the hex does once you go in, but what happens if an ordinary westview resident leaves?

agnes and vision | we see agnes in her car supposedly leaving town or as she claims, she got ‘lost’. when vision takes her out of her trance, agnes seems shaken and even questions if she’s dead. she also seems to confirm that wanda is the one controlling everyone because she doesn’t even let them think about leaving westview. we see more of where vision’s memory stands because he doesn’t remember (or know) that he was an avenger and that he died (twice). when she says that all is lost, she quickly starts laughing maniacally like a witch. this again makes me think that agnes knows more than anyone what’s going on. assessing what she got from vision, she’s probably laughing because it’s amazing to her that wanda’s gotten so powerful and maybe everything is going according to plan - she just possibly couldn’t overcome wanda’s control and only has a heightened awareness of the situation. there’s no mention of ralph this episode and you would think she’d bring along her husband to leave and go to her desired destination in town. i don’t know, i still think she’s got an ulterior motive and plays a bigger part in all of this.

the twins’ conversation | after sharing a sweet moment, pietro quickly calls out the obvious - the kids. only in episode 3 did children finally come into the show through billy and tommy. now, for halloween, all the kids are out and enjoying halloween. pietro, like rapid fire, remarks that wanda probably kept them peacefully asleep in their beds and didn’t wake them until now for the “occasional holiday episode cameo” so as not to traumatize them even more since she’s always been the “empathetic twin”. he seems to know that this is all in a television reality which gives him even more awareness than any other supporting character we’ve met so far. he even goes into assessing (and somewhat praising?) wanda’s handling of this whole westview reality as ethically possible. he knows that wanda wouldn’t rewrite everything: couples and families stay together and personalities aren’t far off from what they are. with this, it heavily hints that this isn’t the pietro we’ve known in the mcu or the peter from the x-men universe. to me, this furthers the point that this ‘pietro’ is just a puppet for whoever is behind all this (or just a multiverse version of piet) since he seems more impressed than anything by wanda’s powers. also, he’s been the only one to ask what we’ve all been thinking since the first episode: how the hell did wanda do this? once again, wanda doesn’t remember how all of it started which still makes me thinks she was probably taken advantage of by someone and earlier in the episode when recounting a childhood memory, pietro comments that she’s probably suppressed the trauma hence why she doesn’t remember it the same way. at the end, this could all be wanda’s doing due to her feeling so alone and grieving that she may have suppressed that memory of how this all started.

pietro’s corpse | again, us the audience and wanda are reminded that this universe’s pietro is dead. it’s another person closest to wanda that isn’t alive - harking back to her comment about feeling so alone and endless nothingness. this may just be that when wanda lets her guard down and is possibly at peace with a situation, this one being of her accepting that this is the pietro that’s going to be her brother that sticks with her moving forward, she’s reminded of the truth - none of it is real and she can’t bring them back.

vision’s breakout from the hex | as we’ve seen in promos, vision is able to break through the hex. what we were hit with was vision nearly getting killed...again. it seems that he can’t live beyond the hex either due to him just being parts when wanda recovered him or because wanda won’t let him go. either way, vision can’t live outside of westview. it physically seems like wanda can’t let him go because as he steps out of the hex and is being torn apart, the hex looks like it’s trying to pull him back into it. i know the hex was wanda’s doing but this physically makes it seem as if wanda can’t let him go and is holding him back. it’s kind of true because since vision became more aware, he’s been breaking away from wanda and she’s been trying to keep him in place and on script so that they can be happy together. in their fight in the previous episode, she says that all of this is for them as to say that everything she’s doing is for their happiness. it’s a twisted way of showing how vision can’t live without wanda since it seems that she’s the one keeping him alive.

wanda expanding the hex | wanda’s clearly gotten more powerful over the years and this episode really shows us how fucking powerful she is on her own. it’s hysterical that the base and the most of the agents are turned into circus acts such as clowns. i’ll admit i’m upset darcy got sucked in and not hayward. i’m very interested to see who monica’s guy on the outside is. with wanda expanding the hex, it’s becoming more evident that wanda may be the ‘villain’ of the show or if there is someone else behind all of this, we may not see them until multiverse of madness. still, i believe wanda is victim in some capacity - even if it means she’s fallen victim to her trauma and grief.

[bruhlsbees]

sweet disposition: 1/? || femaleprofessor!reader x modern!alex kerner

hi bestie hehe i’d like to request a little series for you, sub! a little jealous modern alex keener (of age) x professor! f reader (late 20’s) - shes an english romantic lit professor & her “love interest” is a film professor who is one of alex’s shared teacher. alex has a little crush on her, and knows the film teacher is after her. super fluffy, smut maybe??? u decide baby, im just so excited eeeeek!!!

summary: alex kerner is a senior film student and develops a crush for his friend, denis, english professor

pairing: modern!alex kerner and professor!reader

warnings: age gap (alex is 22 and reader is 32), wet dream, sweet sweet pathetic boy, nsfw, 18+, minors dni

word count: 4,387

a/n: thank you for the request @gotmadison ily sweet gal!! this will be a short fic series i write and will post probably throughout the coming weekend! :) please enjoy and if you have any requests or asks please send them in!!!

For Alex Kerner, a senior film student, nothing bored him more than the first day of a new unit. He knew what to expect - twenty plus slides about some dead, or borderline dead, director while connecting their life to the style of films they did and how it related to whatever political controversy was going down at the time. Alex knew that there was a reason for going into so much history to better understand the meaning of the films, but jesus did it have to drag for so long?

The auditorium that Alex’s class was held in was larger, although the class was rather small. There were maybe, at most, thirty students in his class, including him, which felt empty as the auditorium they were in was meant to hold almost double that. Alex didn’t mind though, of all the rows, he was the only one in the back, taking the middle seat - of course, the best view to see a film. He recognized a lot of the faces in his class, as it was a senior level class, but he didn’t bother to converse with many.

It wasn’t that he was shy, not overly at least, he just didn’t care to make friends. It was an afternoon class, he was just getting out of work to rush to his class, and far too exhausted to try and fake being friendly…hence him sitting in the back, all alone. 

The ‘Authorship in Cinema’ course he was currently in was held twice a week - both two hours long. The first class of the week was held for lectures and the second class was held for the film screening. The university was just getting back from winter break, continuing into the last half of the semester. In Alex’s class they had finished their unit on Roman Polanski before the break and they came into the next covering Krzysztof Kieślowski. Alex was thrilled to say the least about not having to listen to his film professor rave on Polanski. Even after discussing Polanski’s case, his professor still seemed to idolize the man.

Alex was not fond of his film professor. He was a younger professor, maybe in his late thirties, early forties, and he seemed to praise the worst directors he could find. His name was Jaxon Thorne and was the staple image of a douche. He always wore faded jeans that were tight in the crotch, scuffed up sneakers that he always tried to pass as being cool, and a sweater with a scarf - even though they were inside. He truly didn’t get how girls liked the man. Alex wouldn’t lie though, some of his opinions were interesting, but the guy loved to hear himself talk, that much was obvious. 

They weren’t even at the tenth slide yet when Alex felt himself beginning to doze off. Work had been busy today, fixing satellites and dealing with prissy wives and their drunk husbands. He was almost late getting to class with all the traffic that was on the highway. The last thing he wanted to do was attend class. It took everything in him not to put his head down and go to sleep right there. He had done it before, and that was a mistake he would never make again. Waking up to everyone staring and snickering while the teacher was hovering over you meant for a lasting effect.

But Alex just couldn’t take it, he was so bored with Kieślowski’s early work. The documentaries of everyday lives for city dwellers, workers, and soldiers could not keep his attention even if he wasn’t tired. He sunk down into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, before craning his head to the side on his shoulder. His blinking became slow, desperately trying to stay awake and pay attention, but his eyes grew heavy, and before he knew it, his mouth was gaped open, drool slipping out of the corner of his lips.

He didn’t know how long he had dozed off for, but when he woke up he heard the projector screen zip up and the lights click on. Jumping slightly, Alex sat back up, feeling the stickiness of his drool on his face. With a groan, he wiped his face with the sleeve of his jean jacket before beginning to pack his things up into his bag.

“On Wednesday we will dive into his documentary, Workers, and discuss the censorship aspect of it. Come prepared to watch the screening and discuss afterwards. If anyone has any questions or comments, I’ll be staying after for a few minutes.” 

Rolling his eyes, Alex pushed himself out of his chair, swinging his bag over his shoulder before rushing out the back door at the top of the auditorium. He couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough to avoid his teacher from going off on an ‘intellectual conversation’ on their new unit. Barf.

Alex was happy though to finally be out of class and to enjoy his hour and a half break before his next class. He knew he should have been finalizing what project he wanted to submit for critique in his senior portfolio, but he needed something to wake him up. 

As he turned the hallway, going to leave the building, he stopped by the vending machine and pulled out a crinkled bill from his pocket, pushing it into the machine before pressing the buttons to get a bottle of Coke. To his luck, however, the machine stalled, the bottle retriever getting stuck in front of the row and producing an obnoxious ‘whirring’ noise. 

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” Gripping the side of the vending machine, Alex shook the machine roughly, rocking the broken vending machine back and forth until setting it back, sending a punch to the front of it.

“Woah, woah! Jesus man what did that vending machine do to you?”

Turning his head, Alex’s glare softened at the sight of his friend, Denis, approaching him. Denis, with his books still in his hands, tucked them under his arm as he stood in front of the machine, watching as the machine stalled with Alex’s bottle of Coke.

“The stupid thing got stuck! Is it too much to ask for a bottle of co-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the machine began to work again, grabbing the bottle and dispensing it below. Staring blankly at the bottom, his lips pulled into a tight line, Alex could only feel the embarrassment settling in - and it didn’t help to hear Denis laugh at how ridiculous he reacted.

“Oh my god, dude, you seriously need to take it easy. Did work kill you that bad?” Denis asked, watching as Alex bent down to pull out the bottle, standing back up as he began unscrewing the cap, guzzling the pop down. 

Nodding his head, Alex screwed the cap back on before tucking the bottle in his bag, hiccuping at the carbonation before sighing, “Yeah, and it doesn’t help that I gotta go to Professor Dick’s class right after.” 

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Denis nodded, listening to Alex as he vented, “Yeah, Thorne’s a real piece of work. But hey! Only gotta deal with him for another semester after this. Who knows, maybe he will knock a student up and ditch down?”

The fantasy would have been nice to come true, but Alex knew that it would stay just that - a fantasy. Thorne was a questionable guy, with interesting ideas and made borderline inappropriate comments towards the female students in all his classes…but that was just it, he could charm anyone he wanted, and that’s how he stayed around.

“Yeah, maybe when dogs walk on two legs…” Alex mumbled, pressing his knuckles to his eyes and rubbing the sleep out of them, a yawn escaping his lips. 

As he dropped his hands down to his side, he felt Denis nudge him in the arm, groaning at the contact as he was too tired to have any contact, “You got class at seven right?”

Nodding, Alex blinked, a tired smile on his face as he smacked his lips, “Yeah…seven to nine, best time of day to have a senior portfolio workshop.” 

Denis laughed at the sarcastic comment, mentioning that it could’ve been worse and be at seven in the morning than at night. Alex, however, couldn’t see how anything could be worse than an evening class after a long day of work.

“Listen, I got my ‘Romanticism in Literature’ class in a few…why don’t you come with me? My teacher’s pretty cool and I’m sure she won’t mind if you sit in. I’m in the back anyways so she probably won’t even realize. She’s got pretty bad vision I’ve realized. I think she said that her glasses don’t got the right prescription or somethin. She’s always runnin late and claims she never has time to put her contacts in.” 

The detailed explanation of the professor’s vision made Alex laugh, shaking his head as Denis looked at him confused, cheeks red, “What? It’s what she’s told us! She’s always coming in late. I wouldn’t be surprised if she came in late this time around. She’s got office hours before class, so she probably gets held up with a student.”

“Sounds like you’re in love with her, is that right, Denny Boy? Someone’s gotta crush on the teacher? Ain’t that every high school kid’s fantasy? Get the hots for the teacher?” 

Scoffing, Denis rolled his eyes at Alex’s teasing and shoved him in the arm, “No man, come on now, it ain’t like that. Look if you don’t wanna come I don’t care, but I gotta go before I’m late.”

Holding his hands up in defense, Alex trailed behind Denis, going back in the direction he originally came from, “Hey, hey, I was only kidding, don’t gotta get defensive. I’ll take along, hopefully I won’t fall asleep in this class. Why you even taking this class anyways?”

Following Denis into the class, the auditorium setup similar to the one he just came out of, except smaller, Alex sat beside Denis in the back row, watching as the class filled up, only a few seats not filled. 

“I guess I gotta earn some more credits outside my degree, this was the only one that wasn’t completely filled up yet and it worked with my schedule. It ain’t too bad, she gives us a lot of free time to work.” 

Watching as Denis set his bag down beside him, opening his textbook to where they left off the other day, Alex watched Denis prep for the class, the teacher not in sight. Alex figured that the teacher must have been running late, like Denis said she always did, but he couldn’t help but wonder how long it’d be before she even showed up.

Fifteen minutes after class was supposed to begin the front door ripped open, slamming shut seconds after while heels frantically clicked towards the desk in the front of class.

“Sorry I’m late! I got caught up with another professor. I hope you all enjoyed your winter breaks and are happy to be back. I know I’m thrilled to be back!” 

The sweet voice caught Alex’s attention, his eyes pulling from his cell phone and to the front of the class where the professor had just walked in. He felt his mouth fall open slightly, catching it before Denis noticed his reaction.

He was expecting an old lady for Denis’ class, someone who was on the edge of death and smelled of cats. What he found, however, was someone the complete opposite. Younger, curvier, and the scent that filled the room when she entered was warm - like she just finished drinking a cup of coffee.

Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, bangs hanging low over her eyes, covering the tops of her crooked frames. She couldn’t have been all that older than him, maybe mid-thirties at max. He didn’t notice what she was wearing below, but the shirt she wore clung to her so well, the outline of her fuller chest displayed with her necklace dipping into her cleavage. 

‘Good God, Alex, get a hold of yourself.’

Alex watched the professor, noticing her speaking although his lusted thoughts deafened his ears. He assumed she was asking how the break went and if anyone did anything fun because a few people raised their hands, a kind smile on her face as she listened to her students.

“That’s great to hear, Polly! You’ll have to show me the photos you took sometime. I have never been to that side of the country before,” Her head shifted towards the other side of the room, looking up at the higher rows. “Did anyone else have anything to share about their break?”

Denis’ professor sat patiently and listened to everyone who wanted to share, giving everyone the opportunity to discuss their breaks before she opened up her laptop to get started with class. Alex watched as she picked up the remote and pointed it to the projector box, the screen coming down beside her with her computer screen displayed.

Her home screen featured what he assumed to be her and some friends. He recognized a few of the people in the photo as they were also professors at the university - what made Alex turn his nose, however, was right beside her - in all his douchebag glory, Jaxon Thorne. Before he could make a cohesive thought, the photo went away and a slideshow on Mary Shelley appeared…and maybe for the better.

“Okay everyone! As mentioned in the email, we are gonna be diving into Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein for this part of the semester,” She began, her warm smile still ignited, chuckling lightly as some of the students up front became uneasy in their seats, excited for the novel, “I’m glad to hear we have some fans. Now, I promised that I wouldn’t give you any reading over break, but because of that we will be reading quite a bit over the next few weeks.”

The slide shifted to the reading guide and what chapters were due when. Alex watched as some students scribbled the due dates down while others pulled out their cell phones, snapping a photo before stuffing their phones away. 

“For Wednesday I would like you all to have read the preface and letters one through four. Come prepared to discuss your analyses of the text and any questions you may have. Of course, I’ll have my office hours open tomorrow and Wednesday before class, but if there are any questions, you can send me an email and I’ll try to get back with you in a timely manner.” 

The rest of class seemed to lull by, Alex’s gaze fixed on the professor that continued to go over what the last half of the semester would look like, answering the occasional question, before finally it was time to pack up and go. Frowning, Alex shifted in his seat, looking at Denis who was packing things up in his bag. 

“It’s over?” Alex asked, eyebrows furrowed, a pathetic frown on his face.

Looking up from his bag, Denis smiled, nodding, “Yeah man, it is. Why? You fall in love with Mary Shelley?” Standing up, Denis pushed his seat under the table and shrugged his shoulders, “I mean, if it works for your schedule and you’re interested, maybe go up and ask if you can enroll. I don’t know if you’ll be able to with it being so late in the semester, but it’s worth a shot,” Glancing down at his watch, Denis sighed, “Look, I gotta run, but let me know how it goes, okay?” Patting Alex’s back, Denis rushed up the stairs and out the back door, fleeing the auditorium to get to his next class on time.

Meanwhile, Alex kept seated, watching as the professor talked with some students who approached her desk after class, laughing and admiring the editions of Frankenstein that students presented. Was this how professors could be with their students? Actually caring and involved? It seemed like Alex had poor luck with his own professors - either they were old as a bat and didn’t know how to work the computer, or they were a presumptuous dick.

When the students began to flock out, already discussing how they were looking forward to Wednesday’s class, Alex finally stood up, pulling his bag over his shoulder and making his way down the auditorium steps. She hadn’t noticed him as he walked, writing something down in her planner. As he stood now in front of her, he cleared his throat awkwardly, gaining her attention as she looked up, squinting before taking her glasses off.

“Hello,” he began shyly, adjusting the strap of his bag, “I’m Alex. My friend, Denis, he’s in your class.” 

At the mention of Denis, she smiled and nodded, “Yes! Denis, nice boy he is,” She adjusted her position in her seat, leaning back slightly, “I-I’m sorry, are you in my class? I don’t believe I’ve ever see-”

“No! I mean, no, no I’m not in your class. I have a free hour before my next class and Denis invited me to sit in for this one,” He rushed, cheeks red as he realized how abruptly he had interrupted her, “I’m sorry, um, yeah I just came down because I really enjoyed your lecture today. I was curious if there was any way I could maybe enroll? I know it’s late in the semester, but I did enjoy today.” 

The cheeky smile faded into a sadder, smaller smile. She chewed on her bottom lip before leaning forward again, crossing her arms over chest, accentuating her cleavage that Alex desperately tried not to stare at.

“Oh, I’m sorry Alex, but I don’t think I can convince the department to let you in this late in the semester. I love your enthusiasm with the course and would love to have you in my class, but I don’t think I can make that happen.” Her smile dropped to a frown when she saw the visible disappointment in Alex’s face before bending over to open her bag, pulling out a copy of Frankenstein, handing it to Alex.

Looking down at the copy, Alex opened the cover, reading what he assumed to be her name in the cover, before flipping through the pages, a weak smile on his face, trying his best to not look so pathetic in front of her.

“How about this? I probably shouldn’t, but if you want to sit in on the days you’re free, you’re more than welcome to. I’ll forward you the reading guide so you can keep up with us, but you won’t earn any credit in this class. Is that okay?” 

His frown turned into a grin, looking up from the book, Alex nodded, his cheeks pink as his toothy crooked grin spread across his face, “Yeah, yes. Thank you,” Tugging down the front of his striped blue shirt, he cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down at the book before back up at her, “Um, so when are your office hours? Just in case I have any questions?”

Letting out a faint ‘ah’, she opened her notebook and scribbled some notes down, tearing off the paper and handing it to Alex, “You’re more than welcome to shoot me an email though if you need help outside of my office hours. Or you can call my office number, sometimes I answer it.” She admitted, her own cheeks going pink at the confession.

Smiling, Alex looked down at the paper and made a mental note to remember all that she had given him.

My email,

My office number,

Office hours are M&W: 3-5:15 and T&R: 1-2

Class takes place on M&W from 5:30-6:30

:)

The smile she left on the page made Alex’s stomach flutter. His thumb ran along the smiley face before he looked up, thanking her quietly for the note. She was sweet, almost too sweet for Alex to absorb, like he was in a sugar coma and begging for more. 

“Of course, it was nice to meet you Alex. I’m looking forward to seeing you in class. I don’t mean to run off, but I’m to meet another professor here in a couple minutes and don’t need to be lectured on being late.”

When she stood up, Alex’s face went hot. The flowy flower blouse that showed more cleavage than he had seen on a professor before was tucked into a tight jean skirt, clinging to her hips in all the right places, a thick black belt holding it all together. If it weren’t for the fact that he was right in front of her, he probably would have started drooling. 

Packing up her desk, she stuffed her things in her bag, throwing her sweater over her shoulder before throwing her bag around her, moving around the desk to stand beside it now, looking up at Alex. He noted how she was shorter, the heels helping her with height, and how good her legs looked in them. Clearing his throat, he shifted his bag around him to sit in front of his pants, attempting to hide any possible pop-up in his jeans.

“If you’re free tomorrow, stop by my office hours. I’ll even buy you a coffee if it’s too early for you. I know you college boys stay up far too late. I can only imagine what your mothers think.” She teased, shaking her head and she turned and began to head out of the room, hearing Alex keep tight on her trail. 

Turning off the lights and letting him leave first, she shut the door behind her and stood beside Alex, motioning towards the English department office, “I’ll see you tomorrow, or Wednesday, my office is the last one on the right. I’ll be sure to leave my door open!” 

Nodding, Alex smiled and waved goodbye as she waved back, rushing down the hall and weaving through the students to get into the office. Letting out a sigh, Alex leaned against the doorway, processing his first encounter with the professor, the boyish lust grin stuck on his face.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Panting hard, Alex gripped her hips tight, his fingers digging into her plush figure, grunting as he snapped his hips into her from behind, her pillowed ass meeting him with each thrust. The sweat that built up on him was beginning to fall down face, trailing down his neck and chest. 

Tangling his right hand into her hair, his left still placed on her hips, Alex pulled her locks gently, smiling at the sound of her wanton moan, her eyes rolling back into her head. 

“A-Alex! Oh god, Alex, I don’t think I’m going to last. F-Fuck!” 

Feeling his own climax build, Alex let out a shaky breath as he bent down craning his neck to kiss her lips as he continued to rut inside of her, his thrusts becoming sloppy and quicker.

The sensation became too much too quickly, his legs shaking as he kneeled behind her befo-

Jolting awake, the obnoxious phone alarm woke Alex from his dream, resulting in a now completely frustrated mood. While still on his back, Alex reached behind him on the shelf that rested behind his bed frame, pulling his phone up and looking at the screen, squinting to gain his vision from waking up, the bright screen burning his eyes.

When he unlocked his phone and opened it, prompting him to his email, his frown lit up and turned into a smile, seeing her name in his inbox.

Good evening, Alex!

I’m sorry this is so late, I’m finally getting back to my apartment and wanted to send this your way before I forgot. Here is the reading guide for the rest of the semester and that information I shared with you earlier in case you lost it.

I look forward to seeing you in my office tomorrow or Wednesday. I hope you have a good night! :)

Best!

Alex’s mood quickly shifted after reading the email. While he was disappointed that the wet dream he was having with her ended so soon, he was more than pleased to see that he had an email from her. Clicking his phone off, Alex tossed his phone onto his bed, sitting up with his hand behind him to keep him up.

His room illuminated a red/orange hue from the lava lamp that sat on his dresser in the corner of his room. Turning his attention towards the window, he looked behind the blinds to see the city life outside his apartment lit up, the sound of music coming from the club down the road and laughs from those partying. 

Letting out a yawn, Alex shook his head and rubbed his face, shifting his legs before stopping quickly, feeling the mess in his boxers. Looking down, Alex groaned seeing the stain in his boxers, pressing his hand to feel the wet spot before sighing, standing up. He pulled his boxers carefully off, tossing them into his laundry basket before making his way into the bathroom to clean up. 

When he entered the small bathroom that was connected to his room, he hissed at the bright light as it came on, looking at himself in the mirror. His hair was tangled up, sticking out on the sides and his eyes were squinted, too tired to open them fully. Shaking his head, Alex climbed into the shower and started the water, the cold water hitting him both waking him up and cooling himself down.

He was absolutely and pathetically smitten over her. There was no doubt about it. Since leaving her class, the only thoughts that occupied his mind were of her. He had already planned out what he would wear tomorrow when he went to her office hours. It was pathetic, truly, with how quickly he was letting the woman ruin him. It was ridiculous to say, no doubt, because what would happen between them? Nothing. Not a single thing would come between the two other than a conversation about Frankenstein, maybe a personal question here and there.

Or so he thought.

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

Headcanons for dew, rain, mountain and the papa’s s/o (feel free to leave out the ghoulies if you want <3) revealing that they have a glass eye after they’ve been dating for a while, but with a silly spontaneous taking out of the eye. (I recommend watching a video on how glass eyes work first though <3)

Thank you so much for recommending the videos, they really helped! I mostly went with your request of having the reveal be a silly prank and mixed it in with a few other scenarios, I hope that’s ok! And heck yeah, I’ll be happy to add the ghouls to it! Please enjoy! :)

Also feedback is always welcome!

Ember, Rain, Mountain, and the Papas React to their S/O removing their Glass Eye for the first time

Rain: Your ghoul lover had known about your eye since you first became an item. But it was becoming clear more and more often that he was very curious about your eye. He was a quiet and polite ghoul by nature despite his massive curiosity, so you knew it would take some time before he approached you on his own with questions. Not that you would have minded! Rain was respectful and you trusted him to be the same when it came to your eye. When one day you had taken it out to adjust after it had been bothering you for most of the morning you caught your lover watching, utterly fascinated. But Rain looked ashamed the moment you looked back at him. “It’s ok to be curious, Babe. It’s not a bad thing!” You assured him with a gentle smile and beckoned him over. Rain was happy you weren’t upset with him and did end up asking quite a bit! How to clean it, how does it stay, what is it made out of? You considered it a real bonding experience between you both!

Mountain: The drummer had been more blunt about your eye than anticipated, but it was obvious he meant no disrespect. During a conversation it eventually came up that your eye was fake. Mountain replied with a factual, “oh I noticed. It’s quite amazing.” You were taken aback by his genuine appreciation for the simple prosthesis, and you pressed to know why. Mountain took the time to explain that he found human medicines and inventions incredible. In Hell there were no such things as prosthetics or any medical machinery. When you lost a limb or a body part you just dealt with it. Mountain eventually told you the only time he has seen another eye like yours was one that belonged to a stone ghoul leader. It was an exquisitely carved and smoothed green gem! He ends up comparing the high quality of your eye to the gem and lamented that he would never be able to carve a rock to the degree of which your eye was made! It was a fascinating conversation, as you never considered what happened to ghouls in Hell before they came to Earth. It even made you blush when Mountain admitted he thought your eye was one of the most amazing things in the world.

Ember: The first time you removed your eye in front of the fire ghoul you had startled him! All you said was, “Hey babe, wanna see a trick?” and plucked your eye out. The lack of warning certainly caught him off guard as he jumped like a cat. You laughed HARD when his tail was stiffened straight and he garbled half sentences at you. When his brain finally processed what happened he threw his hands up, exasperated. “You could have just TOLD ME, I thought you were about to do something fucking TERRIFYING!” A few minutes after catching your breath you almost regretted showing him as his enthusiasm started to show. Ever since he found out your eye was fake he INSISTED that your next eye should be all white so you could pretend to be an Emeritus. Ember vehemently claimed it’d be hilarious to watch everyone shit their pants when you come out MARKED BY LUCIFER! Of course, you know how terrible of an idea that is! But hey, he’s got the right spirit!

Papa Nihil: Originally randomly removing your eye was going to be a small joke. It was a prank you liked to do from time to time, and you’d be lying if you said you DIDN’T enjoy the reactions you got. Some people looked confused and others jumped from shock. It always ended in huge peels of laughter from you and your friends. What you could have never anticipated was what would happen was Nihil cackling after the fact. You had expected shock or curiosity, but not the Grand Papa practically laughing in your face. When he saw your confused look he gestured for you to come over. It was your turn to laugh when he removed a bottom row of teeth from his mouth. When you sat down to exchange stories Nihil told you about a wild bar fight he got into back in the 70’s. It resulted in him having a banged up jaw and needing a small row of bottom teeth to be permanently replaced. When you shared your story he was just as happy to listen!

Papa I: You weren’t planning on taking out your eye in front of Papa, but necessity waits for no one. That day you were trying a new prosthesis from your doctor, but it just didn’t seem to work out for you. The eye was a slightly different fit and shape than you were used to and it had been irritating you all morning! Papa and you had taken to the sitting room to read together, but the eye made it impossible! you couldn't focus with the damn thing bothering you. You had enough and just popped to accursed thing out. Moments after your sigh of relief you realized Papa had stopped to watch you, a look of concern plastered on his face. He didn't seem alarmed that you were holding an eye in your hand, more so that you looked so uncomfortable. “Are you alright? Is your eye hurting you?” It took a moment to snap out of your stupor but you shook your head and explained everything. Papa nodded politely and smiled, happy to know you were ok. After you excused yourself you were quick to go back to your old eye. When you settled down next to him again you couldn’t help but quench your newfound curiosity. “It doesn’t bother you that my eye is fake?” Papa set down his book, confused as he removed the reading glasses from his face. “.... why should that bother me?” Honestly, that one question was all you needed to hear.

Papa II: When you first started dating you were immediately open about your eye. It wasn’t a terribly big deal for you, but you felt it fair to let him know. Papa only ‘hmm’d’ when you told him but thanked you for the information. If anything, unless it was bothering you it rarely came up in your day to day life! The only time you’ve ever seen him react to it was when he caught someone staring at your face at a clergy function. Your eye was incredibly realistic but there was always bound to be someone who noticed it was a prosthesis. You were used to it, as you knew people were often curious. Very few people ever made you uncomfortable. Papa on the other hand did not share your sentiment. One thing everyone knew about the second Emeritus is how he absolutely despised anything he considered, in his words, “boorish”. Before you could say anything to the person Papa’s voiced hissed out as his hand clasped your shoulder. “Do you mind, or are you going to stare like a gaping troglodyte.” The sibling didn’t need to be told twice and immediately scurried away. Papa cleared his throat as you shook your head, trying to hide your smile. He apologized for speaking over you, and even looked a little embarrassed at his sudden defensiveness. You, in turn, told him he could make up it up to you by getting you a drink!

Papa III: Your mischievous streaks were only matched by Papa’s. It’s what made you fall for each other, after all! So naturally you decided your big reveal would have to be a good one. You waited until the perfect opportunity arose one night. You both had a fun game of saying or doing the most over the top romantic clichés you could think of. It was like your own little game you only played with each other! Papa's favorite tactic was to bombard you with the cheesiest pick up lines he could think of! You loved to roll your eyes and pretend you didn't love every minute. The moment finally came one night when Papa had fallen into your lap, proclaiming how amazing your eyes were. Papa went over the top to make you laugh- saying how much they sparkled like the night sky and were like gems he wanted to keep like little treasures. You grinned and without missing a beat reached up to your face. “You like them that much? Here-” he gasped as you plucked it out, “you can have one!” It took Papa a few moments before he howled laughing, you joining him shortly. Papa praised you for your excellent comedic timing and it has been your inside joke ever since!!

Papa IV/Copia: The fact that Copia saw you taking out your eye at all had been a rather hilarious coincidence... to you at least! It often slipped your mind when you first started seeing each other to tell him of your eye. It wasn't a huge concern for you and every time you remembered you figured the right opportunity would come. One day when you woke up you decided it was as good a time as ever to clean it. You had been ready to start cleaning it and plucked it out as Copia wandered into your shared bathroom, half asleep. Copia hollered at first when he saw you remove it. He frantically shook his head and rubbed at his own eyes to make sure he was awake. When you both realized what had happened Copia had little time to blush as you doubled over laughing. Eventually, after your giggle fit, Copia apologized profusely for his crappy behavior. He explained that he was still waking up and thought you had just randomly pulled something out of your eye socket. You had to convince him a couple of times that you did not take offense to his reaction. As far as you were concerned, no harm no foul! You knew that Copia would NEVER purposely make someone feel bad. Eventually he came around and accepted that you weren’t mad at him!

[icollectyoursins]

Jonathan Joestar x Reader x Dio Brando NSFW

Anon asked for "may i request a spicy jonathan x reader x dio sandwich 😳👉👈 extra kinky please omg,,, 🖤

In typical fanfic writer fashion, I looked up when lube was invented because well... there is no way you’re taking either of these boys without it. It wasn’t invented until 1904 (I think), but Vaseline was a common lube-like substance that was used instead which was invented in 1872. The more you know! I also looked up what kinds of toys they would have used back in the 1880s and... the history of sex toys is fascinating. 

While I’m rambling, this is going to be a long one, just to fit all the “kinky” stuff in, so bear with me. It’s been a while, I know, but it’s very long and I was on break for a bit trying to relax. Anyway, enjoy!

You had arrived at the Joestar household expecting a normal dinner with Jonathan and Dio, but things go a little awry after two of you share a drink. Whatever was in those glasses was, you certainly didn’t mind if it got you between the bodies of two very attractive men.

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Making out, mentions of “drugging” I guess, something in the drink makes them very horny, but still able to consent, light riding, Jonathan is too big, so they move on, threesome, belts used as handcuffs, lube (not named, but it’s Vaseline), spitroast x2 (they switch), rough fucking, choking, face fucking, blowjobs, facials.

Word Count: 2578

     Desperate lips crashed together as you clumsily tumbled into the room backwards with Jonathan never breaking the kiss. The door closed behind him and you two gasped, hot breath tickling your faces. You weren’t apart for long and he quickly pulled you back, claiming your lips once again. A part of you questioned how this happened, but mostly you were consumed by his kiss.

     The evening had started relatively normal with you coming over for dinner, drinks were passed around between you, Jonathan and Dio. The next thing you know, you’re practically climbing on top of him, vehemently exploring his body while he did the same. Not wanting to embarrass yourselves, you quickly tried to run to a room so you could be more private.

     You both moaned as he made his way down your neck, gently pressing kisses into your supple skin. Now that you thought about the quickly finished dinner more, you realized someone was missing. Where was Dio? He sat at the table with you, ate with you and then once the drinks came around and your insatiable lust quickly flooding your senses, you lost sight of him.

     You ran your fingers through Jonathan’s hair, relishing in the way he shivered. Finally, you parted, swiftly shucking off your clothes before exploring each other’s bodies, basking in the warmth. It didn’t really matter where Dio was right now. You just wanted-

     “Jonathan.” You breathed, running your hands up his chest, enticing him into another kiss.

     “I know,” he said, panting heavily. His mind quickly raced with what to do, panicking. He’d never felt like this before, so... needy. “On the bed. Now, please.”

     You nodded once, leading him by the hand towards the edge. Strong arms lifted you up, switching your positions so he was lying on it with you on top of him, straddling his waist. You could feel his erection bumping against your behind as he got more comfortable. No more time was wasted and you quickly aligned yourself with the tip, taking a deep breath as you slowly slipped onto him.

     A cry bubbled up from your throat as just the tip stretched you. His hands massaged into your hips, trying to soothe you. You shook your head no. He was too big to take like this. He lifted your hips up again, pulling you close against his chest, whispering into your ear.

     “It’s okay, don’t worry.” Jonathan sat up, still holding you close. “We can do something else. Here, let me-” 

     He switched your positions again, crouching between your legs. Gentle kisses were trailed down towards your genitals, making the anticipation rise up in you quicker. Finally, he got to where you both wanted him. A final kiss was placed above your genitals, then-

     A cold laugh echoed from the door, making the hair on your arms stand up. You immediately started covering each other with various pillows and blankets, hiding from the hungry stare boring into you. Dio. A cool smile was painted on his face. Another hissed laugh passed over his lips, growing louder the hotter your face got.

     “Dio, we can explain!” You began. 

     “Ooh. I believe you, (Y/N).” You felt like you were falling in on yourself under his gaze. “Tell me, how do you feel?”

     “We’re fine!” Jonathan shouted defensively. He must have known more than you. It was an odd question, but you weren’t sure why he was-

     Dio’s eyes fell on you and suddenly everything felt different. Your mind started to quell its fear, focusing more on how soft his lips would feel against yours, how easy it would be to lift you up, manhandling you like you were nothing. There was a jump in the pit of your stomach. You wanted him. You wanted both of them.

     Suddenly you zoomed back down to earth. You were pressed up against him, already kissing any part of him you could. How did you get here? Did you care? He stared down at you with nothing but lust in his eyes. You were pulled closer to him, then one of his hands started to roam further and further down.

     “We don’t want to keep our little pet waiting, do we, Jojo.” Oh. Oh, god. Both?

     Jonathan shuddered while Dio brought you back towards the bed. Your lips were captured by his, quickly overpowering you. It made you melt how almost addictive his kiss was. Another set of hands danced along your back. The warmth between the two of them was lovely. 

     His clothes were quickly discarded to the side while the other fought for your attention, leaving sweet, but desperate kisses along your shoulders. His hands wrapped around to your front, teasing your nipples. You could feel his hard length against your lower back. Dio returned to you, pulling you away from Jonathan and into a rough kiss. 

     “Let me show you how to do it right, Jojo.” He seethed, bending you over the bed and lining his already erect cock with your ass. He let it slide between your cheeks a few times before he grabbed a glass jar that had previously been in his pocket. Your intended partner, however, made his way around to the front, looking down at you apologetically. 

     Without thinking, you wrapped your hand around his length, slowly jerking it. A shocked cry racked through his body, shocked by the touch. Jonathan had never felt as turned on as he did now. Whatever willpower he had before was completely gone now with the temptation of your lips brushing against the tip of his cock. 

     Dio lathered a slick substance around your hole, slipping one of his fingers in to test your tightness. Now, it was your turn to moan. God, even his finger felt big, you could only imagine what the rest of him felt like. The more his digit fucked into you, the more your mind was fogged over with lust, shallowly pushing your hips back to get more friction. With a malicious chuckle, he complied, quickly working you up to two fingers and then three.

     You couldn’t help the free moans that came out of you, much to his annoyance. His free hand slammed down on your head, forcing you to swallow as much of Jonathan’s cock as you could. Finally, your mewls were muffled. “Peace and quiet at last. Keep them like that, Jojo. Greedy whore.”

     The room was quickly filled with the sounds of Jonathan’s sweet cries as you happily lavished him, sucking in more and more. Dio soon got bored of fingering you and pulled them out with a smack to your ass, leaving a smear of whatever he used on your cheek. Then, he lined his tip up with you again, wasting no time plunging into you, almost to the hilt. You tried to cry out but were obviously stopped. Tears stung at your eyes when he started thrusting into you roughly, each one.

     Suddenly, your hands were pulled behind your back and tied together with some kind of rope that you assumed he had tossed on the bed while getting undressed. A shudder of excitement rolled through your body. Now, you were completely at their mercy, though you doubted one of them was capable of mercy and it wasn’t Jonathan. A particularly hard thrust had you seeing stars only made the answer more obvious. 

     Dio’s brutal pace only got worse, jerking you forward, making you choke on Jonathan’s dick more and more. Your eyes rolled back into your head as drool dribbled down your chin. Crescents decorated your thighs from where fingernails dug into your skin. A hand was brushed through your hair, gentle and soft. It felt so hot against you. The face behind it was flushed red, panting heavily. 

     Suddenly, he pulled back, almost collapsing into the set of drawers behind him. Despite your mouth being free, you fought to keep your moans quiet, not wanting Dio to think of something worse to shut you up. But, the feel of his cock hitting your sweet spots over and over again it was damn near impossible. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was grinning sinisterly over you, his gaze hot against your back. He doubled over, wrapping his arm around your neck into a chokehold, keeping you close to him while he practically speared through you with this new position.

     Jonathan meanwhile was trying to calm himself. You had felt so good. It should be illegal to feel that good. Oh, and your face, hot and sweaty trying to accommodate him. A moan slipped over his lips, shaking lightly from the exertion. He didn’t want to spoil you. Not yet. He wanted this to be nice for you, at least, before his adopted brother walked into the mix. 

     You were beginning to lose air, tapping on the arm around you, frantically trying to get him off. With a devious chuckle, Dio got up, pulling out of you all too quickly. You squirmed at the loss of something inside you as well as the lack of orgasm. 

     “Jojo!” He said boisterously. “Your turn.” With a hard smack of your ass, he walked away from you, letting the other man take his place. Jonathan did so tentatively. If just your mouth felt that good, what would other parts feel like? “What’s wrong, Jojo? Afraid you’ll break them?”

     “Dio!” He snapped. “Why are you so cruel?”

     A cold laugh echoed in your ears, making you shudder. Dio began to slowly jerk his dick, close enough to bring it to your lips. 

     They continued to bicker and for once you were thankful for the lust controlling your mind, easily blocking them out with thoughts that would make your grandmother blush. 

     “God, just stop fighting and fuck me,” you groaned, too aroused to think of anything but what you wanted. Jonathan looked shocked, but not turned off. 

     “Come on! Give them what they want.” Dio growled, pushing the tip of his cock forward. Immediately, you latched your lips around it, moaning at the residual taste left on it. You looked up at him, cheeks hollowing, creating a suction that drove him mad. He roughly ran his fingers through your hair, grabbing you tightly to hold your head in place, then he began thrusting his hips into you with the same pace as before. 

     Jonathan gently ran his fingers over your sides before lining himself up, praying that you had been “worked open” enough for it to be more pleasurable than painful. Slowly, he pushed himself in, unable to hold back a low grown as he felt your soft, warm walls clench around him. Just like before, the thrusts from the other man pushed you onto him slightly, making you take more.

     The stretch was incomparable to any other you’ve had (aside from Dio). You felt so full, there had to be some kind of bulge, right? If you could voice how good he felt, you would have. It was a long process for him to work up the courage to get to any proper pace, he was worried that if he took it too far, it would easily hurt you. But, you felt so goddamn good.

     Finally, he went in as far as he could, letting out another moan. Then, with the same slow, careful moves, he pulled out almost to the tip. It was as though your insides were pulling him back and he found himself sinking in quicker than he had originally intended. Whatever was making him like this soon took over, turning him into some kind of animal, spearing in and out of you without a sign of stopping. 

     Just as you suspected, you were at their mercy completely, feeling them see-saw you, like some kind of toy. God, you could have died like this and been happy, but you knew you were going to be much happier if you saw this through to the end. The three of you moaned in tandem, letting your pleasure take you over as the men picked up the pace. It was all so good, almost too good. Sweat dripped down your bodies, making your hair cling to your faces. 

     You could feel your orgasm building up in you again, unable to do anything to stop it. Their cocks somehow synced with each other and you swore that if they were any deeper, they might have touched. Your release quickly washed over you, making you see white just as they both thrust into you at the same time, stopping to let your body sort out itself out as you spasmed under them, cumming harder than you ever had.

     The first to pull out was Jonathan, slow and gentle. Then Dio followed, coming around to the other side of the bed. You faintly heard a “come on” followed by your name as you were lifted into the air, then moved to the middle of the room, where they set you on your knees. They crowded over you, one of them (presumably Dio) lightly slapped his cock on your cheek, indicating he wanted you to pick up where you left off. In your post-orgasm haze, you opened your mouth, sucking lazily.

     Gradually, you became more aware, picking up your pace. You used one hand to stroke the shaft that was in your mouth and with the other one, you reached out for Jonathan’s cock, doing the same to his. Their grunts and groans filled the room the more you jerked them. Lifting off one length with a pop, you moved to the other, looking up to see their faces, hot and twisted with pleasure. 

     It didn’t take long for someone’s seed to spill into your mouth with a loud cry. You swallowed every drop, before returning to the first one and finishing him off. Dio’s orgasm was not as intense as Jonathan’s, but when he did, he pushed himself further into your throat, making you choke while he shot his release into it. 

     You pulled back, panting heavily, a string of drool connecting you and his cock. A cruel chuckle filled your ears, making you smile almost drunkenly. You weren’t sure what it was, but something told you the night wasn’t done just yet. Dio pulled you into a rough kiss while Jonathan ran his hands up your sides, grazing his lips against your shoulders. These men were going to be the death of you.

[yayteaberry]

*SFW* Dumbass! (Bakugou)

When you were about two years old, your family made a huge move from America to Japan. Your father found suitable hero work there so that’s where you stayed. His quirk worked much like a wolfs, giving him heightened senses and much more mobility. Naturally you inherited the physical aspects such as a tail and ears, though much of you remained human like your mother.

Growing up, you quickly bonded with your neighbor's son, Katsuki Bakugou.

Your fiery and determined attitude worked really well with him and he made for an excellent playmate. He could handle your tendency to roughhouse and wrestle, if anything he seemed to enjoy it. You two were inseparable, spending a near unhealthy amount of time with each other, this carried well into your schooling years.

Despite claiming you had your own intentions behind it, you did follow him like a lost puppy. It was quite obvious to everyone around you that you’d do anything for him, except for him of course.

You were almost dangerously defensive over him, snapping at people who questioned or pushed at him while you were around.

It made you seriously upset when other people touched him or got to speak with him more than you, heavily sulking and pouting until you got your opportunity for his attention.  As guilty as you could feel about it in retrospect, you really can’t help it.

When you had his attention all to yourself, you loved to spar with him more than anything else. It wasn’t like it was a special activity but still it felt like something between you and him. As you grew up ‘wrestling’ became something skin to sparring and then just became a routine part of training once he got into UA.  Though there was a nostalgic undertone, in the past it used to be something he’d only do with you, and you were having a hard time letting go.

Currently you were waiting for him to come back to his room so you could ask him to do just that. He enters his room right on time, totally unperturbed you were already inside since you’d made a habit of coming in anytime you wanted.

“Hey! Lets go practice!”, you chirp as you hop off his bed, excitedly skipping up to him.

“Nah, I just finished up doing that with Kirishima for the past hour and I wanna take a break.” He speaks as he nonchalantly drops his bag to the floor. 

It’s somehow more insulting that you can smell how sweaty he is. 

“What the fuck do you mean ‘no’?”, with a disgusted huff you size him up, angry enough to just tackle him already.

“Fucks your problem? I didn’t promise you anything today.”

You pout as you often do, crossing your arms over your chest, ears pinched back. “Yeah but why would you run off with him like that! I’m right here! You in love with him or something?”

He rolls his eyes and matches your stance with his standard snarl, staring you down. The height difference does nothing to make you intimidated, and it never has. “I can do what I want. He asked me first and either way I need to branch out and win against different people who actually provide a challenge.”

You scoff and throw your hands at your sides after balling them into fists, stomping your foot down to accent your disapproval. “I do provide a challenge, you don’t win every time you asshole! I bet he was really terrible at it, not nearly as good as me!”

The way his face scrunches up a moment makes you narrow your eyes, not sure what he’s thinking about. When a big grin breaks out you feel your rage double.

“You’re jealous of him.”

That makes you nearly explode, snorting out a scoff and shaking your head. “Not in your wildest fucking dreams! I am not jealous!”

“Yes, yes you are.”, he says after a laugh that makes your face feel hot.

“Stop talking so calmly! I just said I’m not so I’m not! Shut the fuck up! Shut up, you’re so dumb sometimes!”, you shout back at him, turning your head to the side as you instantly loathe your inability to shut your mouth.

He only smiles wider, leaning close into your personal space, gently flicking your nose. “You totally are, I can see it.”

You swat at his hand and growl, tail bristling as you go fully defensive. “I said shut the fuck up! There’s nothing jealous about me! I just don’t think you should be spending your time with such a loser!”

Easily he grabs your hand, tilting his head and speaking with such a mocking tone you have to keep down the urge to bite him. “Oh? And, just who do you recommend replacing him? If not him, then who? If you’re not jealous then I assume you’ve got another person in mind. C’mon, I’m all ears.”

With a harsh yank you get your hand back, pushing on his chest and getting even more frustrated when he doesn’t budge. “Shut up! I said shut up! Stop being such a bastard about this!”

“Why should I? You’re the one freaking out.”

“I AM NOT FREAKING OUT!”, you shout, freaking out.

“It’s adorable that you get so upset just because I spent an hour with someone else, you’re all pink in the face over it. That’s jealousy if I’ve ever seen it.” He can’t wipe the smirk off his face when you act like it, he did always find it cute when you get so heated over him giving you attention. 

“I’m not upset and I’m not jealous! I just don’t like you accusing me of things that I’m not! You’re a fucking idiot!”, you continually spout, upper lip curled up as your breathing turns into gruff pants, barely avoiding the urge to start barking. 

Despite how you look fit to maul him, he finds himself perfectly comfortable grabbing one of your ears, delicately massaging it between his fingers. The action almost instantly starts working to calm you down, feeling so good you lean into it without realizing it. Though you’re still pouting, the raging fire has simmered down greatly.

“I can’t only spar with you, I do need to improve my technique.” He speaks as he continues, now using both hands for both ears.

You puff out a large breath, “Well why can’t you do that with me? I can change my fighting style, do different things. If you need something different then why can’t you tell me what?”

“Why is this so important to you? We hang out a fuck ton outside of doing that so whats the difference.” His voice is laced with annoyance, making you wince internally.

“Because he’s got his stupid hands all over you.”, you reply, mildly hypnotized enough by his massaging that you let some of the truth slip out.

“So you should be the only person allowed to touch me?” He raises an eyebrow at that, nearly letting out another laugh.

Your stomach sinks at the implication of what you’ve said, attempting to fishtail your way out of it. “No! Just, that, well! Why’s it even matter, you’re not listening to me anyways! God is it too much to ask that you pay some attention to your best friend sometimes!” You grab at his wrists and pull his hands away, tossing them away.

“What the hell would you even call this right now? You even sleep in here most nights, how the fuck can I possibly give you more attention! Do you wanna be attached at the fuckin hip!”, he says with an exasperated grunt, pinching at the bridge of his nose. 

“Shut up! It’s just comfortable here is all, not a crime to have preference! S-So what if I like it in here? So what if I don’t think you should let just anybody get their hands all over you!” You anxiously fidget with your hands, shrugging passively despite your raised volume.

“So you admit that you’re upset about me sparring with Kirishima because you don’t want him to touch me!”, he says while he points an accusatory finger towards you.

“Yea, whatever! So what!”, you shout as you throw your arms up, sitting back on his bed forcefully enough to bounce a few times, “Not a fucking crime is it! It’s contact, I’m part wolf you know, it’s kinda in my blood!”

“I have to do other shit besides enable your needy ass, you should be grateful I allow you to do all the shit you do!” He puts his hands on his hips, leaning down to get in your personal space.

“I’m not fucking needy!”, you shoot back instantly, nails digging into your palms.

“That’s right, you’re needy AND jealous!”

You can’t handle anymore slander being thrown at you, lunging off the bed and tackling him to the floor with a loud growl.

He goes down but flips you underneath him the moment he makes full connection with the ground, holding your wrists together in one hand above your head. Squirming around somewhat violently gets you free, pushing him by his chest to get him away. Once he’s off balance you shove him back onto the floor, sitting on his back.

As you grab one of his arms to twist, he shoves you backwards hard enough that you tumble off. That disorients you long enough for him to pin you down, his chest against your back and your face partially mashed into the floor. You can’t reach him like this, so you get up on your knees before he’s able to hold your hips flat down, wiggling like before to see if you can escape.

But, it doesn’t work, all it does is make him grunt strangely as your tail awkwardly presses into his stomach. To submit so he’ll get off, you relax, your ass settling against his lap.

“Giving up? Say it, say you’re giving up!” He says with the usual grit, tugging one of your arms backwards.

You yelp in pain, no longer willing to go gently into defeat. “I’m not giving up, I just want your boner out of my ass!”

“Don’t distract and fuckin’ lie, say you’re done!”, he punctuates his sentence by yanking your arm.

Just to prove a point you made up on the spot, you wiggle your hips against him, definitely winning by the way he lets go of your arm and sits upright to grab at your hips instead, letting a soft ‘fuck’ slip past his lips.

You’ve already started crawling away when he shoves you forward, falling onto your face with zero grace.

“Hey! Asshole, don’t push me!”, you whine as you rub at your nose, nearly sneezing.

“Serves you right!”

“Oh, for fucking what!”, you get back to your feet, seeing that he’s sat down on his bed.

“I don’t have to explain it to you!” He plops down onto his bed, once again crossing his arms over his chest.

“So that means you’re so cowardly you won’t admit that was a dirty play!”, you spit out at him as you stomp over to him, standing in front of him.

He nearly jumps up, getting right in your face to try and make you back down. “Don’t think I forgot what you’re trying to distract me from. This is all because you can’t accept that I can’t be up your ass all day like you are up mine!”

You don’t fold in the least, if anything leaning in close enough that your nose bumps into his. “Fuck. You.”

“Jealous bitch!”

“Stuck up bastard!”

The staring contest you’re having is intense, full of tension that threatens to explode if you so much as blink.

Suddenly, there’s a shift in the energy, gaze softening for just a split second before he presses his mouth onto yours. It’s not until he pulls away that you realize that was supposed to be a kiss, turning red as a tomato as your eyes widen.

Bakugou was actually blushing, looking at you as if he’s having a hard time with something. Which did scare you a bit since he was always so sure of himself. “You’re fucking stupid sometimes but you know you’re mine. So, just say it.”

“... What..?”, you say after a full ten seconds of star struck silence.

He grimaces and collects himself for a moment before speaking through gritted teeth. “I’m asking your dumbass to go out with me.”

“That’s not really asking, you didn’t even phrase it as a question...” Your eyebrows knit together as you shoot him a confused look.

“Well what’s your fucking answer!” He rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue against his teeth, something he always does when he’s nervous.

“Of course it’s yes, I’m not completely braindead,” you smile and kiss him on the cheek, very pleased over the outcome of the argument, “only stipulation is that you tell me before you rub yourself all over another person. In return I’ll stop threatening to bite everyone.”

[1rintooru]

Little Agreements

Pairing: teacher! Sugawara Koshi x gn! reader

Themes: fluff, enemies to lovers 

Word Count: 2k one-shot

Warnings: light swearing - that’s all!

Summary: You and Sugawara are rival teachers at a reputable elementary school. Even though you can hardly stand each other, your students have started shipping you together and it’s just awfully annoying! Little do they know, you’ve been keeping a secret from them the entire time.

a/n: teacher suga is good suga... this was so fun to write and purely self-indulgent - i can't get him outta my fat brain🥴 but enjoy anyways..!

You clicked your pen once. Twice. Three times. Perhaps to an outsider it would appear that you were annoyed – impatient even, but you knew it was nothing more than a habit, much like the restless tapping of your foot or improper care kept to personal belongings. You eyed the worn-down mathematics book that was currently being hastily shoved into a backpack, the spine barely keeping the pages glued together.

“Looks like you’re all set to go,” you proclaimed, putting down your pen and eyeing the student in front you. The boy beamed, yanking the zipper of his backpack shut and throwing it over his shoulder.

“Couldn’t have done it without ya, teach!”

You nodded and smiled appreciatively. You were flattered but you couldn’t take all the credit. The boy you were tutoring for a couple weeks now always claimed he didn’t care for school; you still remembered how he once told you that sports were ‘where it’s at’ – whatever that meant. However, the improved grades paired with the purple shadows under his eyes told you an entirely different story. He’d made his way to the door, his hand already grasping the handle before turning around, an impish grin plastered on his face.

“Even though you and Sugawara-sensei are cute together, we’re still gonna beat your butts!”

You bolted out of your seat and glowered at the young boy.

“Don’t you have other classes to tend to?”

He smirked at your chagrin.

“I’ll see ya around!” he shouted, sending you a quick a wave goodbye before finally leaving the room. You plopped back into your seat upon hearing the door close behind the student, rubbing your temple discontentedly.

Ah. Of course.

How could you forget the school speed quiz? It was an annual event that the school implemented three years ago as a means to motivate students and raise class scores. The idea was that a group of children would be chosen to represent their class and be quizzed on a variety of subjects – the questions becoming increasingly difficult as the game progressed. At the time you sneered at the idea and even complained to the school director that it would only waste funds and resources. Now you were glad that he didn’t listen to you, though he could have skipped laughing in your face. With that being said, the event was a double-edged sword. It made you incredibly happy and filled you with pride seeing students find the joy in learning again, but on the other hand it only exacerbated the teasing comments from the students. They adored seeing you two together and you never could quite wrap your head around it. After all, you and Sugawara were rivals.

Your eyes darted down to your wristwatch: fifteen minutes left until next period. Not a whole lot of time, but just enough to shotgun a coffee and have snack in the solace of the staffroom. You hurriedly tidied the mess on your desk, arranging everything to your liking for the next class before finally stepping out into the bustling commotion of the school hallway. Excited chitter-chatter and non-discreet gossip filled halls as you found yourself surrounded by young children. Each face was familiar and you could have assigned a name to every single one. Even the tall one with fluffy gray hair and gentle brown eyes with the recognizable birthmark.

Wait, no – that’s no child; that’s Sugawara.

He walked towards you with a pep in his step and a bright grin, parting the busy hallway like Moses as students stared at him slack-jawed and awestruck. He was the school celebrity, proven by the sheer number of students that called out to him as he passed – and he loved it. You tried to swerve around him, but it was surprisingly difficult to escape through a sea of grade schoolers.

Damn it, just when you were looking forward to that coffee!

“Here, like I promised.”

Sugawara’s voice rang clearly as he firmly pressed a stack of essays into your hands, the weight of the stack momentarily catching you off guard. Your eyes instinctively scanned the first page laying on top. As per usual, your students performed well in academic pursuits but that wasn’t what bothered you.

“Green glitter gel pen?” you teased, lifting an eyebrow questioningly.

His hazel eyes gleamed confidently. “Hey, we agreed that I would help grade assignments that you couldn’t catch up on – you never said I couldn’t use my colored pens!” He mirrored your teasing lilt before continuing. “Besides, from a psychological standpoint the color green is more uplifting and motivational than a harsh red.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong. You both had agreed that you would tutor his students in mathematics and sciences while he would help grade assignments to take some of the workload off your plate. But that didn’t make his claim any more convincing and it only made you roll your eyes disparagingly.

“That pseudo-science is why I’m the one tutoring your students.”

“Geez, point made Y/N!” he scratched his head embarrassedly, the other hand defensively creating a barrier between the two of you.

“Y/L/N,” you quickly corrected him.

Sugawara’s posture visibly deflated at the curtness of your words. As mature and gentle as he was, he had a tendency to have his heart on his sleeve. You felt a little guilty and even considered saying something to mince your words, but the opportunity was stolen from you as a group of young girls skipped past, snickering as they went.

“Oh my god, Y/L/N-sensei and Suga-senpai are flirting again!”

Your secure stance faltered as the unsuspecting comment hit you like a brick, nearly making you drop all your papers. Sugawara’s eyebrow quirked upwards, thoroughly amused by your loss of composure. You hoped that the heat you felt in your face couldn’t be seen from the outside as you gingerly smoothed out the folds of your sweater.

“Suga-senpai?”

Sugawara’s playful grin immediately dropped as he noticed the daggers you glared at him.

“Huh?! A-ah it’s not like I told them to call me that! It – it just kinda happened.”

Seeing him so flustered would normally have made you smile, but you weren’t going to give him any kind of reassurance. Besides, it would have only worked as ammunition for privy students stalking your conversation. So instead, you simply shook your head, an exasperated sigh just barely escaping from your pursed lips.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I have a coffee waiting for me – and you have recess duty, have you already forgotten? So, if you’ll excuse me.”

You gave him a patronizing poke on the shoulder as you moved past him, beelining towards the staffroom.

The two of you were so vastly different in your teaching methods. You took your work seriously and prided yourself in the academic success of your students – your class always scored extraordinarily well. You were stern but incredibly ambitious and dedicated to your craft. Sure, Sugawara was popular with the kids, but playing the role as best friend wasn’t going to help them pass their classes. You failed to understand why most of the schoolchildren were obsessed with you two being an intimate couple; even prior to the school speed quiz event the two of you were rivals. His laissez-faire teaching methods didn’t mesh well with your own – in fact, you resented them. That’s why it was akin to pouring salt into a fresh wound when each year your respective classes tied during the annual event.

You decided to ignore the thought. This year was going to be different.

****

Oh, how you loved being the one responsible for cleanup duty.

At least, that’s what you would say if it weren’t that you were the only one responsible for cleanup duty.

As you watched one of your students – a petite girl with long dark hair – collect a pile of dirt into a plastic dustpan, you began to wonder how Sugawara roped you into this. Again. You and him had a lot of agreements, for the sake of professionalism of course, but this was not one of them. The school day seemed to drudge on forever and you were not spared from any incessant comments, even in its final moments. Ironically, one of your pupils turned into somewhat of a teacher as they explained to you what ‘shipping’ and ‘OTP’ meant.

Why on earth would they consider you and Sugawara something like that?

You dismissed the remaining students after carefully examining the room. The floors were cleaned and the whiteboard was spotless, but the wastebasket hadn’t been emptied and the desk arrangement was crooked. It wasn’t exactly up to par with how you usually left the room, but you were no heathen and you noticed just how lethargic everyone was becoming.

You also needed to find a certain someone that deserved to be chewed out.

That certain someone was found in the school’s gymnasium, excitedly talking to the school volleyball team that was retiring for the night. The frustration you felt immediately melted once you saw how animated Sugawara became as you overheard his motivational tangent. His passion was infectious and easily fired up the young boys in yellow and blue jerseys listening to him.

Was this where Sugawara always disappeared off to?

It was a silly question, really. Seeing him zealously offer game strategies with the biggest grin on his face made the answer obvious. You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling awkward as all the children – and Sugawara – turned to face you. The boy you had tutored earlier today, now clad in a yellow jersey spoke first.

“Well teach, did ya know that Sugawara-sensei was a volleyball player in high school too? He was a setter, believe it or not!”

You could only stare dumbfounded as your eyes bounced back and forth between the braggadocious athlete and a proudly grinning Sugawara. The lack of response on your end began to unnerve the gray-haired man as the corners of his mouth began to twitch downwards and his eyes glossed over with doubt.

You shrugged, “I don’t really see it, honestly.”

The both of them gasped in unison. The young teen stared at you dumbstruck – his jaw would’ve hit the floor if it could, while Sugawara staggered backwards as if a spear had punctured him in the chest.

“She’s a tough cookie, Sugawara-sen–” the teen’s underhanded comment earned him a swift kick from his teacher.

“Well, I think it’s time to call it a night. How about we tidy up and retire for the evening?”

And just like that, Sugawara had roped you into another cleaning duty. Thankfully the volleyball team was still so fired up from his speech earlier that the tidying up went by remarkably fast. Eventually you and him stood alone in the building, after finally saying your goodbyes to the remaining kids.

He looked at you and cocked his head to the side, to which you nodded in response. Perhaps it was a simple unspoken agreement or maybe it was just a force of habit to head home together. Regardless, it was hard to imagine it any other way.

The cool autumn air greeted you the moment you stepped out of the gymnasium. Goosebumps pricked your skin as a crisp autumn breeze embraced you, sending a shiver down your spine. The sky had turned into a watercolor of fiery oranges and deep purples as evening drew closer. You glanced over to Sugawara, nestled in the layers of his scarf and his hands hidden in the pockets of his coat.

“Do you have regrets?”

Sugawara paused, brown and orange leaves twirled with the wind just short before his feet, but that wasn’t what stopped him. He was clearly perplexed by your question.

“Regrets?” He scrunched his nose as though the word itself repulsed him. He dug his hands deeper into the depths of his pockets and his features visibly softened as he pulled out a golden ring. It gleamed magnificently as the rays of the setting sun reflected off the band. Seeing him fit the ring snugly onto his finger prompted you to do the same, pulling out the velvet pouch that protected the ring within it. Sugawara smiled as he watched you slip the ring on, fondness etched into his features as he extended his hand towards you. You happily obliged and entangled your fingers in his.

“How could I ever have regrets with the life I have now?”

[nbrook29]

Hey!! 108. “I could do that, but could doesn’t mean would.” for the dialogue prompt? 💞✨

Hi there! 😇

Another anon: 7, 8 😇

Another anon: 120, 127 ✨

Another anon: Okayyy so for the prompts :3) “You are not going without me.” and 8) “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”I already know it will be so good!! Thank YOU

So to sum up:

108. “I could do that, but could doesn’t mean would.” for the dialogue prompt?

7. “I’m not jealous.”

8. “ You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

127. “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this…”

120. “Your hair is so soft…” -> already done here

* * *

Heaven. He’s in heaven. Every single muscle in his body is completely relaxed, body bathing in the scorching heat of the sun above him as he stretches his calves, toes digging in the sand, joints popping in a satisfying way, and yes, this is something Robbe could get used to.

He can’t believe merely six days ago he was a bundle of nerves. Nail-biting, snapping, whining, zombie-like mess, overly stressed about his finals and revising like a crazy person. It’s short of a miracle, he ponders, that Sander didn’t dump his ass after being barked at for two weeks straight. Instead, he gave him his space, would just kiss the top of his head everytime Robbe snapped at him for breathing too loud and quietly leave the room so Robbe could focus. 

Robbe would then be so overtaken by guilt that he couldn’t focus anyway and he’d walk to the kitchen, head hanging low, biting his lip, afraid that this time Sander finally had enough and went home, only to find him in his kitchen; making them dinner and swaying his butt to his newest playlist oblivious to the torment in Robbe’s conscience.

He’d walk over to him, quietly, slinking across the tiled floor in his socks the last few steps, and he would wrap his arms around his waist, holding on tight, head buried in between his shoulder blades as he’d mouth sorry after sorry into his t-shirt, sealing each one with a kiss. 

And Sander would be so fucking sweet about the whole thing. More understanding that Robbe could have ever asked for. He'd feed him croques or any other delicious food, smoothing out the frown lines between Robbe's eyebrows with his other hand and Robbe's contrite face would soon be all smiles, cuddling up to his side for a ten minute makeout session before going back to his studying with a long-suffering sigh. Not without a pat on the butt for, as Sander claimed, good luck. The cheeky bastard.

He smiles to himself now when he opens one eye to peak at the person lying next to him, but Sander is not there. Confused, he lifts his head with a groan, squinting against the sun. It only takes him a few seconds to locate his boyfriend, zeroing in on his tanned back, muscles shifting as he hits the ball across the net.

Robbe must have nodded off for a while because he remembers everyone chilling on their towels and now half of their squad is in the water while the other half is goofing off pretending to be good at volleyball, HIS other half included. He recognizes Jens, Jana, Moyo, Senne, and Sander of course, but there’s an additional person from outside of their group, playing for Senne and Sander’s team.

Huh.

She’s a long-legged olive skin beauty, tossing her long dark hair left and right, and Robbe snorts when he notices Moyo and Jens on the other side of the net, following her every move, hearts in their eyes. 

Grinning to himself, he starts thinking about the teasing material they’re providing him right now, and he’s about to turn his head to the other side to catch some sun rays on his right cheek as well when his eyes stop at the girl’s fingers as they wrap themselves around Sander’s arm, traveling to his bicep as she inches closer. There’s a private smile on her face, teeth biting coyly on her bottom lip, and Robbe cocks his eyebrow at the scene.

He rests his weight on his elbow, trying to find a position that doesn’t look too obvious as he keeps shooting furtive glances in their direction.

It’s not that he’s jealous or something. It’s just. She’s standing a teeny tiny too close and is a bit too touchy-feely. 

In his humble opinion.

There’s a pause in the game as one of the boys go to retreat the ball from the water and Robbe watches her hand slip sideways, now grazing Sander’s lean abs, and she’s saying something, but they’re too far for him to figure it out. There’s an unpleasant feeling rising in his stomach and he tries to squish it down but to no avail.

Fuck. He IS jealous. In fact, he’d really appreciate it if some random person wasn’t groping his boyfriend, pawing at him like he’s theirs to touch. 

Just as the realization hits, Sander takes a step back, gently pushing the girl’s hand away and saying something back, making her beaming face morph into a sad frown. Before Robbe can drop his gaze and pretend he hadn’t been watching the scene unfold like a hawk, Sander turns around and looks straight at him. Robbe curses under his breath when he sees the smirk growing on his lips when Sander realizes he caught him in the act. He shakes his head with amusement, chuckling a little as he winks and blows him a kiss before turning back to the boys and Jana and quitting the game, leaving the girl looking after him forlornly.

Robbe closes his eyes as the squinting becomes too much just as Sander jogs over to their spot, flopping on the towel next to him with a groan. 

“I think I’ve done enough sports for a whole year,” he complains, stretching his arms and legs like he’d just run a marathon. Robbe scoots closer, Sander’s body blocking the sun and giving his poor eyes a much needed break.

“Did you win?” he mouths the question against his side, tasting the salty skin as he brushes a small kiss on his hip bone as an afterthought, making Sander squirm at the tickling sensation. He lets out a short giggle, fingers finding their way into Robbe long curls, combing through them as he pulls his own body back a little.

“They’re still playing so it’s hard to say.”

“Mkay.”

Sander chuckles at his slurred answer. “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like that, all rosy cheeks and puffy lips,” he murmurs, leaning down for a quick kiss that pulls an involuntary smile out of Robbe. He traces a delicate finger down his nose, "You're gonna be all freckly tomorrow."

"You love my freckles."

"I do." 

He waits until Sander makes himself comfortable on the sand before swinging his arm over his belly possessively and asking the question that's been on the tip of his tongue.

"So who was that?"

He opens his eyes and regards him from his half-closed lids, groaning internally when he notices the smirk dancing on Sander’s lips as he watches him, expression a little too gleeful for Robbe’s liking.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Robbe huffs in indignance like he hadn’t just been watching the girl touching Sander, grumpy and disturbed.

“I’m not jealous.”

Sander shoots a pointed look at the placement of his arm, eyes sceptical. 

"Pff, whatever," Robbe goes to move it, but Sander is quicker, catching it and pressing it back down, entwining their fingers on his belly in the process.

“Her name’s Leah, she wanted to play with us.”

"Did she make a move on you?" it slips out before Robbe can swallow the words down, and great, now he doesn't sound jealous at all.

Sander seems to be as surprised with the question as Robbe is.

"She did," he replies, turning on his side to look at him, head propped by his hand, "but I told her a have a scorching hot boyfriend who's currently sunbathing his perky butt and being insecure for some reason."

Robbe gets a bit defensive. "I'm not insecure," he mumbles back. "I just don't appreciate it," he waves his hand vaguely trying to find words, "when someone gets too close."

Sander is quiet for a few seconds and just when Robbe starts to regret opening his mouth, he finds himself being dragged across their towels and onto Sander’s chest. He’s not that light though so he essentially ends up with his upper body resting on Sander while his legs are now lying askew on his own towel still. It seems to be good enough for Sander though because he loops his arms around his back, effectively trapping him in case Robbe wanted to get away, eyes crinkling with that smug smile of his.

“You’re jealous of me,” he says it with such fondness in his voice that Robbe does a double take.

“Ugh, you’re enjoying this way too much,” he grunts, pulling back as far as Sander’s hold allows to get rid of the unpleasant twinge in his back.

Sander delicately thumbs at his pouty lower lip, expression still amused.

Robbe glares at him half-heartedly. “Could you stop?”

“I could, but could doesn’t mean would. Let me bask in this unexpected turn of events, babe.”

“Sandeeeeer,” he drags out his name in a whiny voice, first poking at his cheeks and then squeezing his lips with his fingers to put his satisfied smile to rest, but it only makes Sander laugh more. “Don’t be mean to me.”

“Admit you were jealous.”

“Oh my god, okay! I was jealous! She was touching you up and pawing at you with her tanned arms and I hated it, happy now?

Sander squeezes his lips to keep his grin at bay, but a small giggle escapes his mouth anyway.

“You’re the worst.”

“Aww, baby, I promise you’re the only one I want to be pawing at me. And touching me up.”

“Well I hope so.”

Robbe can’t resist giving him a kiss that is a bit too lingering and messy for a sunny noon at the beach, but he feels like staking his claim. Sue him. Sander is all for it, the exhibitionist in him couldn’t care less about random bystanders so when Robbe finally comes up for air he whines and tries to bring him back down, already looking dazed.

Robbe peaks on his left to see if the girl maybe was looking in their direction those few seconds ago, when he hears Sander’s scandalized gasp.

“Was that you claiming your territory?!”

Robbe fires him a smug wink, shutting up his “such a bad boy, mr IJzermans” with another kiss.

[imagine-loki]

Omega Mine

TITLE: Omega Mine

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 21/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Loosely based on: Imagine Loki discovers the Avengers have an omega who has healing powers living with them. He’s an Alpha and he wants her, badly. 

RATING: M (eventually ) 

NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

Loki rose again, keeping your hand in his as he did.  He gave you a brilliant smile and settled your hand on the crook of his arm.  Clearly, he was going to escort you that evening.  You weren’t surprised.  Loki liked the spotlight and being the center of attention.  His pranks around the tower said as much.  But this press conference wasn’t the kind of spotlight he wanted, not with how he had been tortured and forced to attack Earth.  He didn’t want to relive that trauma, for obvious reasons.  You and the team all understood that and no one would fault him for wanting to stay near the team’s Omega, to stay near his Omega.

You smiled up at him, letting him feel your calming aura.  Everything would be alright.  Loki gave you a warm smile in return, grateful that you were there to support him.  

“Are we ready to head out?” Steve asked.  Everyone was there and Nat had finished inspecting their outfits.  

The team agreed and you all took the elevator down to the lobby to the waiting limo.  You all squished in the elevator together and Loki pulled you safely to him, not letting anyone hurt you.  He eyed the limo when he saw it, clearly having never seen such a vehicle before.  

“It’s called a limousine,” you explained when he’d helped you in and followed after you.  “They’re used for special occasions, usually by rich people.” Loki nodded along to that.  He was a prince and understood status devices.

It wasn’t far to the conference hall, which was good when you had the entire team in a limo at once.  You stepped out of the limo onto a red carpet, where the press was gathered to take pictures of you as you headed inside.  They always wanted to comment on what designer designed your dresses and suits for any event you went to.  The Avengers were famous, as one would expect with how often they saved the world.  Since you were a member of the team, despite not being a hero and on the front lines, you were just as famous.  Being a celebrity was something you were still getting used to. 

Steve glanced to you as you stepped out of the limo.  Loki was there and had offered you his hand like the prince and gentleman he was in order to help you out of the limo.  You appreciated the help in the long gown.  You gave Steve a reassuring look when you caught his glance.  He was always so nervous in social situations.  Especially when Bucky couldn’t reassure him easily.  They played down how they were still mated in front of outsiders, as people outside the team wouldn’t understand. 

Steve relaxed when he felt your aura and saw you nearby.  The team’s Omega was vital to their stability.  You all gathered for the press and posed for pictures.  Loki remained next to you, a proper escort.  Escorting you also gave him something to focus on beside the Midgardians taking his picture and gossiping about him.  His posture was stiff and he had a hard time relaxing when there were so many people ogling him for the wrong reasons.  You squeezed his arm, drawing his attention back to you.  He gave you a smile and a grateful look as your aura wrapped around him, wrapped around all of the team.  

Finally, you got to go inside and up to the stage where Steve and Thor would be announcing Loki as the newest member of the team.  You listened politely to the speech, your presence reassuring Loki as the pair spoke about him.  You watched the press too, watched and made sure they were accepting Loki.  It was your job to read people and you were damn good at it.  It was part of what made you such a good Omega for the team.  Steve explained to the press that Loki was joining the team and an official Avenger from that moment forward.  Thor reassured them that the Battle of New York had not been Loki’s fault or choice.  There was no doubt in his words and he left no room for doubt or disagreement.  He expected that since the team trusted Loki, that the Midgardians needed to do the same.  

A few questions were asked after and Loki made a couple of polite comments when prodded to do so.  

Once that was over, you started the mingling part of the evening.  You couldn’t stay on Loki’s arm the entire time, which clearly disappointed him.  The press didn’t fail to notice how Loki doted on you.  They could clearly see that there was no mating mark on your neck, that your collar remained the plain silver of an unclaimed Omega.  Clearly, Loki hadn’t laid an official claim yet, but it was very clear to anyone who looked at the pair of you that he was an Alpha courting an Omega, one who had stated his intentions and was now waiting for the Omega to accept or deny his claim.  That knowledge would keep any other Alpha at bay, unless they were idiotic enough to want to challenge Loki for the right to court you.  

This was the old way of the castes, the way things were supposed to work.  There were too many Alphas in recent history who would just take an Omega they wanted.  

Loki wasn’t like that.  

It was well known that an Alpha was at his most dangerous and volatile while he was waiting for the acceptance or denial of the Omega he was courting.  So it was amazing that he would leave your side in the group of the press.  However, he also accepted that you needed to have independence and your own life.  You were in public, in sight of him and the team.  So he allowed you to mingle, to check on each member of your pack to make sure they were alright.  He stayed at your side as much as possible, but didn’t overbear.

He was answering questions for a reporter with Thor when you went to talk to Nat, intending to get her to go with you to the ladies’ room.  None of the team would forgive you for leaving the ballroom on your own.  Not when Nat, Loki, Lady Loki, Happy, or any of the team really, would be willing to escort you.

A hand wrapped around your arm as you were walking toward Nat.  You turned to look to see who had touched you even as your instincts screamed this was wrong.  It wasn’t a member of your pack.  Your pack could touch you casually.  You scarcely even noticed when they did.  

This person wasn’t pack.  

You looked up at the hulking man in the suit.  Alpha.  Predator.  His grip tightened on your arm as he caught your scent fully, as your fear spiked at being accosted.   

“The Avengers brought an Unclaimed Omega,” he growled.   “Just begging to be claimed and knotted,” 

Your eyes widened as the scent of his lust and power hit you.  He wasn’t as strong as Loki, not hardly, but he was an Alpha and part of you demanded you submit.  You weren’t going to submit.  Not to him.  

“N-no,” you tried, but your voice stuck in your throat.  

The Alpha was moving, dragging you out of the room.  The team was all busy mingling and didn’t see.  Didn’t sense.  

“Quiet, Omega.  You’ll be claimed and mine soon enough,” the Alpha snarled, trying to overwhelm you with his power.

You had to stop this.  Had to.  Do… something, anything.

The team hadn’t been training you for nothing.  “NO!” You shrieked, using your magic to throw a blast of light in his eyes at the same time as you whirled, driving your foot into a very delicate piece of anatomy.  Nat had been drilling you on self-defense for months.  

The Alpha howled as he doubled over, clutching at his crotch with one hand, the other still managing to maintain his grip on your arm.  

You didn’t need to shriek again.  The team was alerted at your first shriek and were there in a moment.  Bones crunched in his hand as they were removed by Bucky’s metal hand.  Loki pulled you away from him a moment later and into his strong safe arms, surrounding you by his scent.  

“Are you hurt?” Loki asked you gently as the entire team held weapons aimed at the Alpha who had dared touch you.  

You shook your head.  “J-just a bruise,” and you were clearly shaken up, but no one would fault you for that.  

Loki nodded and slid his suit jacket off.  He wrapped it around your shoulders, surrounding you in his scent and safety.  He handed you, quite literally, to Thor.  A look passed between the brothers.  Thor nodded as his arm wrapped around you, pulling you to him.  His other hand held Mjolnir.  

Loki trusted Thor more than anyone else on this realm.  The pair had fought side by side for centuries, since they were old enough to hold weapons.  He trusted his brother at his back.

And he trusted his brother to protect his mate while he dealt with the danger.

That Alpha was so very, very fucked for daring to mess with Loki’s mate. 

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

Cil and Von pls???

Funny enough, that's what @bi-julius-caesar wanted for their birthday! The exact prompt they asked for was 'Von humiliating Cil in front of Kohga and Sooga and Cil tries to hate fuck him but ends up getting fucked instead'. So, hope both of ya'll like it!

"With pleasure, Master Kohga."

Kohga loved having beefcakes to do what he said. And Cil was one of the many who were eager to obey. Like a show pony, he was eager to perform. In this case, he insisted on having him go head to head with Sooga. Not with weapons, but with their bodies, and bodies alone. Master Kohga was frisky today, it seemed. He watched angrily as Kohga held Sooga’s face, cooing in such a sugary sweet voice. The words fell on deaf words, lost in his frustration. Then he looked at him, and made a 'come here' motion with his finger. Cil damn near skipped over, but kept his proper form.

"I don't want you to go easy on him, understand? He needs to earn his prize."

"Understood. But pray tell, what IS the prize?"

Kohga thought about it for a second, before Cil saw that smirk of his (well not really SAW, but he felt it).

"Tell you what. Winner gets a kiss."

"...any kiss?"

"Eh what the hell, why not? Sure."

Oh he was going to murder him. Cil nodded, holding onto Kohga’s hand in his own, as a sign of respect.

"It shall be done, my Master. He will have to pry this trophy from my cold, lifeless corpse."

And he meant it. He doubt Kohga would let their match get that far, but if it came down to it, he absolutely would. Anything for that kiss he needed oh so badly. For that kiss he deserved. He stepped in front of Sooga, and drew his blade. He double checked his hair in the reflection of the blade, before digging it into the floor. Sooga followed suit, both blades wedging into the wooden floors.

"I appreciate your seriousness, Cil. You and I both know that we strive to please our Master."

"Of course. He deserves nothing but the best. As in, me."

Sooga huffed. Good, he was getting under his skin. Cil stretched for a moment (maybe showing off a bit for Kohga), making sure his body was ready. Sooga followed suit, before nodding. He was ready.

"You recall the rules."

"No weapons, no yiga special techniques. Just our body's strength, and our wits. And of course, mask stays on. On our Master's mark, if he may grace us."

Kohga loved this part, they could tell. He was about to start, when Von joined him, clearly excited.

"Aye my BOYS! Master Kohga, I can watch right?"

"Long as you don't interfere again."

"Oh. Right. Sorry. Shutting up right after this-good luck guys!"

He gave them a thumbs up, and Cil rolled his eyes. Ugh. Ever supportive, Von was. Kohga helped himself to a drink, before sitting up in his chair.

"On three. One. Two. Three!"

Cil was so motivated by the idea of getting his prize, he leapt for it first, bringing his fist down right into Sooga’s chest. Sooga got pushed back a bit, but didn't hesitate to grab Cil's arm, yanking him into a nasty headbutt. It was a cheap move, unlike him honestly. It was weird, until he heard Kohga holler behind them. It was a show for their master, not effiencity. Oh the cheek. He felt himself snarl at such a cheap trick.

"Oh you kiss ass!"

"You're just upset that he prefers looking at me."

Cil grit his teeth, before he dove for him in essentially a tackle. These little sprawling sessions were really just 'beat the shit out of someone until they're either unresponsive, or quit'. So tackling, although it was a bit barbaric, was pretty acceptable. Given how loud Von swore, it was quite a spectacle as well. He kept himself on top of him, starting to bring his fists down onto him. He aimed for his chest, his shoulders, even his head. Sooga kept trying to block, and Cil was happy he did.

"That's it, give me more of you to hurt!"

He wanted to bruise him. Wanted to walk away from this in absolute shame. Like a wounded street dog. He clasped his hands together, about to bring the combined force of his fists, when he was suddenly forced onto his back. Sooga had damn strong legs, and he often used them to his advantage.

"Your fury shall be the end of you, Cil."

He grabbed him by his head, about to slam it onto the floor, when he was interrupted by a very loud, VERY annoying Von.

"COME O N CIL, YOU GOT THIS BUDDY!"

It was annoying, and just the distraction he needed. He brought his fist up to his stomach, giving him just enough time to squirm out of his grasp. He managed to get Sooga’s head in his arms, in a headlock if you will. Sooga squirmed so adorably, he could pop his head like a cherry.

"That's it. Thrash. I'll crush your head like a fucking egg. I could watch the blood trickle down your ears as I make your brain mush. Or you could give up, and I could claim my prize. The one I d-"

He didn't get to finish. See, there was an issue with Von being both of their friends. He never picked a side, and always wanted things to be even. So, of course, it was his turn to help Sooga.

"SOOGA PULL HIS HAIR."

"NO WAIT-"

Too late. Sooga had reached up, dug his fingers into his hair, and pulled. It undid all the hard work it took to get it looking so pretty, and it made Cil moan. Loudly. He had just pulled it so hard, his blood was already pumping- it just happened. The cheers from everyone watching suddenly became a confused silence, and Cil hated that when he looked down, Sooga was obviously very uncomfortable. Cil let go of him, and turned to look at Von. Good. He knew he was in more shit than a horse stable.

He walked away, grabbing his blade on the way out. A foot soldier, their little referee, cocked his head to the side.

"Is this a forfeit?"

"...yes. Unfortunately, I yield."

He tucked his sword away, and as he walked out of the arena, and grabbed Von by his shoulder. Once they were out of the ring, and into Cil's room, Von FINALLY started to panic, hands up in defense.

"Cil don't be mad I didn't think you were gonna-"

"You made him ruin my hair. You made him humiliate me in public,"

Cil stepped towards him, slowly, and Von stepped back, clearly trying to get away from him. He made it a good distance away, before his back was against a wall. Cil put his hand up, keeping Von trapped. He wasn't going anywhere, they both knew it.

"You made everyone realize WE do things together. You made me come off as some sort of whore. You not only brought shame to me and me and our Master, but you made me LOSE. I deserved that prize. But thanks to you, I lost. LOOK AT ME."

Cil grabbed him by his throat, and listening to his choked up words of protest were music to his ears.

"I'm going to make you regret having a voice. I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to use you until I decide I'm not fucking mad at you anymore."

He threw Von onto his bed, crawled on top of him, and just when he was about to peel those clothes off, Von coiled some of his hair in his hand, and pulled. Like a a horse, he turned docile under his hand, suddenly not feeling so angry. Von laughed, pushing their masks aside, just enough to reveal their mouths. Never enough for their faces.

"Aye...so angry and so bitter, buddy. Easy does it. I know how you get when you don't get what you want. Come here. I'll give you a kiss."

Was it Kohga? Absolutely not. But after getting all riled up from a fight, he'd take it. He pressed his lips against his, swearing under his breath. Him and and Von have had a few...choice encounters, so this wasn't new. But Cil still hated it. There was still that shame, that bitter taste of defeat, not getting who he wanted. And Von knew it. It was silent, yet obvious. Yet, Von acted as if that awkwardness didn't exist. Cil sighed. He was still angry, but his cock was taking away some of that stress.

"You're a pest. And I'm still angry."

"You're always angry. Now come on, clothes off."

He waited till Von let go of his hair, before he sat up, removing everything but his mask. Von gave a loud, headache inducing whistle.

"Dunno why you had to strip, you could've just flexed this off, god damn."

Cil was about to insult him for such mindless flattery, when Von held his cock in his fingers. He toyed with the tip with his thumb, watching as Cil melted on top of him. Cil huffed in his face, annoyed still.

"You shouldn't make me feel good. But you know what I need."

"I've known a few cocks, my guy, they more or less need the same thing. But yours is the cutest!"

"Not this again..."

Cil smacked his mask with his hand, groaning. Von laughed, clearly finding it funny.

"I'm sorry but it's such a cute lil cock! It's like a wittle itty bitty carrot! You know how sometimes it doesn't grow right but you love it anyway because its special?"

"I'm going to kill you. I'm going to hang your corpse on-"

He was silenced when Von scooted down, and put his cock past his lips. He stiffened up for a minute, before relaxing, digging his fingers through Von's mop of hair.

"Ugh. So messy. Your stupid hair. You should let me fix it properly. If I have to hold it while I use your mouth, it should at least not look sloppy."

"Aw, is that a date?"

Von looked up at him; kissing at his tip. Cil scoffed, pushing himself back into his mouth. Much better use of his lips than the constant smart mouth.

"It isn't. It's a standard that I want...met."

He could tell Von knew. He was already getting close. That's what fighting did to a true yiga. Made them aroused, eager for more. Von peeled away, watching as the little cock ached for more.

"Well I want MY dick to meet that ass, so on your front, princess."

"I grow weary of that nickname."

He complied however, trading Von spots. He laid on his stomach, letting Von apread his ass, and rub his thumb over his asshole.

"But you're SUCH a pillow princess! You lay there, pushing against me and waiting for me to help you cum. And you look pretty too. Nice hair, a damn nice back. You take care of yourself, I REALLY can't believe you don't get fucked more often. Think its the attitude. But I like it."

Cil grabbed onto one of the pillows, tensing once Von dragged his tongue against his asshole.

"Don't....say that while you're doing such things. It's...v...vile."

It was gross. He kissed the same lips that kissed his asshole, and he loved it. Von's tongue moved in little circles, drool cascading down and meeting his aching cock. Von chuckled, pulling away after a second.

"You just mad because it's not Kohga saying it. Ease up big guy, you're gonna get what's comin' to you."

He was about to bark at him, recalling why he was mad to begin with, when he felt goosebumps at his skin. Right. Von was...well equipped, unlike himself. It felt good grinding against him.

"Just...ugh. Be silent and put it in already."

"Such a grumpy wumpykins. Fine."

He leaned down to kiss his jaw, before he adjusted his clothes, and pressed his bare cock against his ass. Cil tried not to, but he found himself pressing against against him, body needing SOMEONE to touch him.

"You remember the rule."

"Right right, finish on the ass, not inside, and tell you so you act like you don't like it- I know I know."

Cil didn't want to admit that he wanted him to just fuck him already. But thankfully, Von let him get away with that one, and pushed his cock inside his ass. He held him still, as his size was STILL a bit much for him. He groaned as his body tried to accommodate, trying not to tear open the pillow in his hands.

"SLOWLY, you fucking moblin."

"This IS slow, you just don't get fucked enough to be used to it."

He was going to back talk further, when Von grabbed some more of his hair, giving it a gentle pull as he started to slowly roll into his ass.

"I...oooh...mmmph."

He hated the sounds he made when he felt stuffed. But it felt so...good. Von chuckled, hand roaming from his hip, up his back.

"That's it. You've got no dick, and ass is pancake flat, but when you finally get tamed...damn you sound so pretty. You like it when you get a good stretch, eh?"

"I DESERVE a cock. The fact that it's yours is unfortunate."

"Sharp tongue for a man with a thick dick in his ass. Lemme taste it."

He laid on him again, pressing his lips against his, and letting his tongue roam over his. Von knew he hated kissing so much, but this time he was grateful, as it helped keep his moans muffled, if only slightly. They sat there for a moment, sweat glistening off their bodies and swears filling the air. Then Von started to move properly. He started to buck his hips into his, balls smacking against his own as their hips bucked together.

"Shit Von...You’re throbbing inside of me. It's shameful."

"Funny way of saying you really like my dick. It's fine, I like this ass of yours. Looks good when you're taking it. Don't think I've fucked someone so big and delicate."

"I'm NOT deli-"

He was cut off when Von yanked his hair, starting to pound into his ass.

"Not delicate? Look at you fumblin' over yourself as I fuck that ass like a toy. My cute, baby dicked princess~"

He couldn’t even scold him. His vision was too hazy, his mouth was too busy biting into the pillow. It felt just. So good, letting this man use him to please his cock.

"I'm gonna fucking cum. I'm gonna bust a FAT fucking nut because of you. Come on, let's see what kinda load those little balls of yours can give me."

Cil was the first to cum, whining loudly once he finally hit that peak. He sat there in his mess of sweat and cum, before Von joined him. He pulled his pretty hair, pulling out just in time to cum on his ass, and on his back. Von still kept moving, albeit much slower, snearing his thick cream in between his cheeks. Von grumbled against his sudden mouth full of feathers.

"They're...not small."

"Size of chickaloo tree nuts. But I love 'em anyway, princess."

Von finally got off of him, laying right next to him. Cil sat there, trying to recover. He silently listened as Von lit up one of his cigarettes, helping himself to a nice smoke, blowing rings into the air. Cil inhaled, before slowly exhaling.

"Why I insist on entertaining you, I have no clue."

"Because I got a fat dick. And I'm funny as hell."

"Funny looking, you mean."

Cil didn't move as he shifted his gaze to meet his. Von grinned, taking another puff, before leaning over and smacking his ass. Least, what was supposed to be his ass.

"Ha! After all this time, my guy still got jokes! I love it! Good to see I took a...load off."

"Stop."

"Even though it was very HARD."

"VON."

Von grinned like the idiot he was. Cil hated to admit it to himself but...well. he did get the gold medal, but silver was just as good. For now.

[waywardrose]

On Babbushka

There is a group of well-known writers in the fandom who have been discouraged and put down by one of their own, Zannah - @babbushka​. It happens behind the scenes in DMs. It happens in posts and tags.

In DMs, she has started conversations with seemingly innocent questions. When she doesn't receive the response she was aiming for, she diverts the conversation to criticizing and humiliating the person. She has attacked writers for tagging—or not tagging—a post in a way she deems appropriate. She has gotten into arguments over how characters were portrayed and then tried to claim victimization when the other person wouldn't knuckle under.

She will appeal to her following to attack any fan or creator who has an opinion that differs from her own. She will encourage friends to send rude anons. Those same friends will also DM the target with rude remarks.

Several creators have stopped writing altogether because of their interactions with her.

We are tired of being discouraged. We are tired of being talked down to. We are tired of being bullied. Enough is enough. Under the cut we share our stories, let the chips fall where they may. It's up to you, the reader, to decide whether to support her.

We can only warn up-and-coming writers, artists, fans, and supporters of her behavior.

-

Hope - @callmehopeless

The Australian bushfires of the 2019-2020 season were nightmarish—for those living through it and those witnessing. As the season went on, cries for help increased. Joaquin Phoenix used the time during his Best-Actor acceptance speech at the Golden Globes to call for unity, action, and accountability. Regardless of what we may think of him, it was a thoughtful speech.

Hope, who is an Australian, found Mr. Phoenix's message encouraging and reblogged a gifset of his speech.

That morning, Zannah made a post about Mr. Phoenix's shady past and his association with a known sexual predator. The main reason wasn't because his speech was inappropriate or not timely, but because she didn't think he should be the one to get the attention over other actors who had spoken of the bushfires during the Golden Globes.

While Hope confessed she was scared of the bushfires, scared for her loved ones, Zannah was more concerned with purity. To Zannah it was about the face of the message, not the message itself. It didn't matter that Mr. Phoenix was amplifying support for Australia, what did matter was that he had done bad things.

It was virtue signaling on Zannah's part.

Still, this remains a complicated argument. Can a person who has done bad things actually have something positive to add to a cause? Should we listen to a problematic person if they share an insight? Does it reflect poorly on us to agree with their isolated statement? Will we be canceled, too? What about the bigger picture?

In this case, the bigger picture was hundreds of homes were destroyed in the bushfires and families were displaced. People died, thousands of animals died. And it was because of climate change. Mr. Phoenix called for his rich peers to examine their respective lifestyles and to give back.

Yes, Mr. Phoenix has done bad things. Yes, he has associated with people who have done bad things. His words resonated with people on Tumblr, and they reblogged part of his speech. He said something that gave Hope hope.

Hope was asked by a third party how they could help. She came back with a resource guide for those who wanted to send aid to Australians.

When it became obvious Zannah wouldn't silence Hope, Zannah decided to sub-post about the interaction. There, she accused Hope of being a rape apologist for reblogging a gifset and finding a little comfort in it. Zannah placed her ego before someone who was facing a very real danger.

Side-eying an actor is one thing, shaming a person you know for finding solace during a scary time is another. Hope isn't responsible for which voice got picked up. The only "colors" being shown here are Zannah's. She put her own concerns about being perceived as morally pure above actually supporting a friend.

I'll keep this brief - I knew Zannah for many years. And on one of the lowest weeks of my life, when my suburb was burning down and I feared for my family: she convinced me I was a rape apologist for sharing Joaquin Phoenix's speech asking for action on bushfires. In all my life, I never felt more alone. To add insult to injury, she then posted memes mocking me - something that has stuck with me to this day.

I've had dear friends quit the fandom because of her kinkshaming. I've had people I love message me distraught over what she's said.

Enough is enough.

— @callmehopeless

-

Rose - @the-wayward-rose​

This PM exchange started after I tagged my reblog of Zannah's fic Feast (Cameron Bistle x Reader) with cw: white reader. I had been on her taglist, and I wanted to show support because I liked the fic overall. For context, the reason for my tag is because of this sentence:

"But then you're blushing so pretty and squeezing his hand affectionately and reaching for the handle to the passenger side of his car, and then you're laughing when he swats your hand away to open it for you, and then you're beckoning him down as if to ask a question – only to place a chaste kiss to his lips instead."

This is from Cameron's point of view.

She asked the reason for the tag, and I explained it was because of the use of "blush" to describe Reader's appearance.

She misunderstood my premise. I did not mean only white people blush.

According to Merriam-Webster, blush means "a reddening of the face especially from shame, modesty, or confusion" or "a red or rosy tint."

It is an autonomic response, though. It happens in all humans for body cooling and nonverbal communication. The main problem with using it universally is that melanin obscures the appearance of said autonomic response.

Here's an example of three runners:

The two pale women, left and center, are pink in the face. They are blushing. The woman of color on the right is likely blushing, too. However, the melanin in her skin obscures the blood in her cheeks. She is not pink.

That's the pitfall of the word "blush." The observer can't always see it. We know what it feels like. We all do it. The face and/or neck gets hot. The use of "blush" is shorthand in narrative, and I understand that. Nevertheless, when writing to cater to a reader-insert audience of unknown heritage, writers need to consider describing with universal terms.

Again, she misunderstood my premise. I clarified by asking how Cameron sees the Reader blush under an abundance of melanin:

She sidestepped the physiological explanation to go straight for justification. She tried to legitimize "blush" as "perhaps [this]" or "perhaps [that]" when I stated earlier that blush by definition is pink or is to redden. That's the logic. A noncommittal, covering-all-the-bases, complicated defense diluted the conversation.

With her earlier "I have friends of color, hence I can't be exclusionary" statement, I wasn't sure she would get my point. I take full responsibility for not explaining, too. I should've asked for some time to gather my thoughts, but I didn't. Truthfully, I was unprepared, because I didn't think my insignificant tag would be an issue.

Also, I was confused why she was trying to police my blog.

Her replies came rapidly—before I could mention my confusion—and felt aggressive in the moment. Maybe that wasn't her intention, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

That doesn't take away from the fact that words have meaning. It's why we use specific words. It's not understood in the narrative that her use of "blush" could mean a bunch of things. If I had known, I wouldn't have tagged as I did. How is a reader of color supposed to know that? How does Cameron see Reader's blush if she has darker skin?

As writers, we don't know who is reading. Someone could be very pale or very dark. A person with medium-toned skin can turn a shade of pink or red. A person with darker-toned skin will not. We can't assume all readers are medium to pale. We need to develop better writing skills. We have to include everyone.

Readers of color > White-writer feelings

When I stood my ground, she doubled down, stating I made no sense in my tagging and that I lacked the ability to learn from her. She then diverted the argument, attacking a ficlet I wrote a few days beforehand—which had nothing to do with this argument. The Christian imagery in that ficlet was upsetting to her and "in such poor taste" because she headcanons Flip Zimmerman (BlacKkKlansman) is 100% culturally and ethnically Jewish.

Flip stated in the movie:

"I'm Jewish, but I wasn't raised to be. It wasn't part of my life. I never thought much about being Jewish. Nobody around me was Jewish. I wasn't going to a bunch of Bar Mitzvahs. I didn't have a Bar Mitzvah. I was just another white kid. And now I'm in some basement denying it out loud[...] I never thought much about it. Now I'm thinking about it all the time. About rituals and heritage. Is that passing? Well then, I have been passing."

By his own admission, Flip is ethnically Jewish, but not culturally. These are two separate things, and that should be recognized. While Judaism is ethnically and culturally entwined in ways that other religions are not, one does not equate the other. You can be one and not the other.

At the time, I didn't want her to sic her 3000+ followers on me. I wasn't going to argue further. I asked myself if the ficlet was important and worth anon-hate and realized, no, it wasn't. It was a throw-away.

And since I'm not culturally Jewish, maybe I had misstepped. And since Zannah is both culturally and ethnically Jewish, I asked for her guidance.

She flatly refused my request. I don't know how I was supposed to learn from her if she wouldn't teach me.

It sounded as if she wanted me to delete the whole fic. Like none of it was worth saving because it hadn't been Zannah-approved. I had gone against her headcanon, and the fic was too offensive to fix.

The last sentence was supposed to cover her back from criticism, and it placed all the responsibility on me. Obviously, she was above such petty concerns as someone else's blog or writing. Never mind that she had just attempted to get me to change my tagging system and rewrite my ficlet. On my blog.

Later, I figured out she was only criticizing and not offering a constructive critique. Her argument was not in good faith. It was retaliation for not giving her the obedience she thought she was owed.

This is the passage that offended her:

"It’s because of the way he fucks you. Like it’s confession—though he’s never been much of a church-going man. Every touch, every thrust, is a truth between you. Even when it’s rough and greedy. It feels like flagellation when you claw his back. He wears the sin proudly."

This is what I edited it to:

"It’s because of the way he fucks you. Every touch, every thrust, is a truth between you. Even when it’s rough and greedy. It feels like flagellation when you claw his back. He wears your marks proudly."

Yeah, I'm not pleased with the revised passage. It's lost its teeth, but I keep it.

The anonymous message(s) she mentioned weren't very anonymous, either. Unfortunately, I've since deleted the two messages. I had apologized to Anon for disappointing them. I said that if the fic was too much, they should unfollow and block me. I meant that in a self-care way. At the same time, I did not—and do not—owe anyone discourse. I don't have to explain my art when it doesn't hurt anyone. And no one was hurt by some purportedly misplaced religious imagery.

I have been silent about this since late January/early February. I was embarrassed. I had been bullied into changing my blog and my fic by someone who proclaims to never do anything of the sort. I had been a fool. Since this conversation with her, I have been blocked/blacklisted by third-parties, most likely at her behest, when none of this exchange had been necessary.

-

Kassanovella - @kylorengarbagedump​​

Zannah's followers have asked her about Kassanovella’s Fix Your Attitude. For context, it's currently one of the most kudo-ed fics for Kylo Ren x Reader on AO3. It had a bit of a renaissance earlier in 2020 because a TikToker wrote a song for it.

There is nothing wrong with not wanting to read a fic. If the subject matter doesn't work for a reader, they don't have to partake. Easy as that. So, these tags aren't a problem.

However, it led to this...

She lashed out, calling Kassanovella's fic a joke. A joke.

She implied her fics should be as popular as Kassanovella's because she works really hard on them. She admitted she's tied to the metrics. She implied she wouldn't be writing fic if not for the external validation.

Here's the thing about fanfic: readers like what they like. They don't care about a writer's effort. They only know what works for them. They comment and give kudos, reblog and like what they connect with. That is not under the writer's control. All a writer can do is try their best and concentrate on what they're passionate about.

To bash another writer's fic because it's popular is disrespectful. This whole bitter rant drips of entitlement and is an affront to Kassanovella.

Some time later, an incident happened in a chatroom during a streaming event for veterans by Arts In the Armed Forces (Adam Driver's organization). At least one fan brought up Fix Your Attitude while waiting for Mr. Driver to make an appearance. They were also disrespectful towards the other presenters by demanding to see Mr. Driver. It caused a big stink within the fandom, and Zannah had some choice words.

While mentioning the fic during the livestream was inappropriate, it was also inappropriate to throw all fans of the fic under the bus as she did in her tag. Sweeping generalizations and incriminations of a subset of fans certainly reads as if she resents those fans for a perceived slight.

Next, Zannah made an earlier disparaging comment about Kassanovella's fic, Little Bird. Unfortunately, that comment is lost. However, the messages supporting the comment remain. (For context, Little Bird is a Kylo Ren x Reader The Handmaid's Tale AU. It has been well received in the fandom, earning thousands of kudos on AO3.)

What an author wants to write about and sexualize is their business. Fantasizing about being dominated by Kylo Ren isn't cringe. It's a sexual fantasy. Some sexual fantasies can be disturbing to those who do not share the same kink.

Sexual fantasies are like ice cream. There's a reason why there are different flavors.

Also, "I will never ever be a person that tells an author what to do or not do" is an absolute lie. As evident in this post, Zannah most definitely tells authors what to do or not do.

Again, she bashes Kassanovella, claiming her writing isn't good. Her motivation for bashing Kassanovella can only be speculation. With Zannah's previously stated opinion of Fix Your Attitude, though, it indicates a certain level of negative emotions.

-

Anonymous

An anonymous person came forward with a case of Zannah policing their blog. Anon has a sideblog for their personal AU with Flip Zimmerman. They reblog gifsets and post headcanons. They were an enthusiastic fan of Zannah's and reblogged a few of the gifset she made. Anon tagged their reactions, and Zannah blocked them for it.

Anon went to Zannah and asked why they were blocked, because all they wanted to do was have fun and support fellow Flip lovers.

Anon was under the impression that because they were shipping themselves, and not Zannah, with Flip, she blocked them. Their personal AU doesn't align with Zannah's headcanon that she alone is married to this character and has his children.

While Zannah's reply may sound innocent, and perhaps it is, it also speaks to someone who has set herself up as the owner of Flip Zimmerman. (Wait until Spike Lee or the real Ron Stallworth hears about that...) It appears that if a fan does not comply with the Zannah-approved headcanon, where only she is married to Flip, that fan shall be blocked. If a fan uses tags on their blog that she does not approve of, that fan will be blocked.

Zannah's policing is disturbing. Going into a blog to look for something as a reason to block is disturbing. Any fan is allowed to use any tag on their blog how they wish. If the OP has said their post can be reblogged, how a reblogger tags is beyond the OP's control. To punish that reblogger for not behaving in a way she finds acceptable is uncalled for and unjust.

-

Anonymous

Backstory: Zannah does not view Ben Solo's arc in the Star Wars sequel trilogy as acceptable canon. However, she does view the story she created for Flip Zimmerman in BlacKkKlansman as completely canon.

This is not the first time she has been asked to clarify her position. Nor is it the first time she has avoided giving an on-topic response. A question asked in good faith should be responded to in kind.

If a creator doesn't want to address the issue, they can state that they don't. Deflecting from the question only muddies the waters. Fans feel dismissed. The creator feels hounded, and comes across as irritated and unapproachable. No one has a positive fandom experience.

There is nothing wrong with having a headcanon. What is wrong is Zannah mandating her headcanon for Flip on the whole fandom. As evident in this post, if a fan does not comply with her headcanon, they will be summarily blocked.

Also, there is nothing wrong with rejecting canon. Writers of transformative works have always done this. The problem is shaming fans who have accepted canon while not offering justification for that shaming. A creator saying they "can't help them" is the creator washing their hands of responsibility from articulating their thoughts when they themselves began criticizing the canon in the first place.

Again, this is a bad-faith argument. Creators can't ask for discussion and attention and then get mad when their viewpoints are challenged. Just because a discussion isn't going a creator's way doesn't mean it's an attack, either. It means people want clarification, and if one criticizes, they should be able to back up their criticisms.

-

While sharing our stories has been freeing, it's not our aim as fellow fans to cancel Zannah. We would hope she would take the opportunity to reflect on the damage she has done to the fandom. We hope we all can move forward with a more approachable and supportive scene.

No one person speaks for our fandom. The actions of one fan do not represent the entire fandom. Whether creator or consumer, you are welcome here.

[posted July 25, 2020]

[nomolosk]

“I hope all the documents are in order,” Adrien Agreste said, looking and sounding smug over the transmission. His ship was currently en route to the Francoise Space Station orbiting the planet Dupont, where the Dupain-Cheng’s had based their surface-to-orbit shipping business. Marinette Dupain-Cheng didn’t bother trying to suppress her glare. He should be well aware of the reasons for her frustration, but she reminded him anyway.

“Yes, Mr. Agreste Junior, the documents are in order,” she replied. “They have been waiting for your signature for the past month. A month in which, I might add, we haven’t been able to do any business at all.”

“My apologies for the delay,” Adrien said - but neither tone nor expression changed an iota.

By all the gods in the heavens, Marinette loathed this man. She couldn’t imagine any future in which she didn’t, especially given the reason for his visit today. He was going to buy out her parents’ business, and Marinette only had to deal with him because she’d refused to make her parents deal with him after everything else they had gone through. Unfortunately, this had only confirmed his awful reputation.

When it came to systematically ruining and then buying out competitors, Adrien Agreste - the scion of Agreste Shipping - was a one-man juggernaut, apparently all too eager to do a few dirty deeds in order to keep his otherwise indulgent lifestyle. By all reports he was a true Daddy’s boy, playing with money, power, and hearts as if he had no concept of personal responsibility. After all, Daddy Agreste would take care of any... unpleasantness. And all he had to do was be dear Daddy’s hatchet-man. It looked like he enjoyed it, too.

Fortunately, she had the means to wipe that self-satisfied look off his face permanently, thanks to a mole who called himself Chat Noir. He’d been feeding her inside information for over a year - information that had let her and the crew of the Miraculous put quite a dent in the Agreste Shipping bottom line. But for now, she had to play along.

“Just make sure you’re on time,” Marinette said through gritted teeth. “You’ve tortured my family enough. No need to drag it out any longer.”

“I’ll be only too happy to accommodate your schedule, Ms. Dupain-Cheng,” Adrien said. “And perhaps, afterward, you will let me buy you a drink to... commemorate the occasion.”

A smirk - an actual, god-forsaken smirk - appeared on his face. Marinette’s fingernails dug painfully into her palms. If he’d been within reach at that moment, he would have found himself flat on the floor with several broken bones, and Marinette would have found herself in a holding cell on charges of assault. Breathing deeply, Marinette reminded herself of the plan, and terminated the transmission before she could incriminate herself.

As soon as Adrien Agreste’s smug, smarmy, and infuriatingly handsome face disappeared from her screen, she closed her eyes and breathed, letting out all the tension and anger that had built up during their brief conversation. After all, under the right circumstances, Adrien Agreste might be exactly what her parents, and countless other victims, needed: a valuable hostage.

----

Adrien let that god-awful smirk linger for a moment before wiping it away with a weary hand. He slumped back in his seat and started massaging one temple while he swiped back to his desktop screen on the terminal.

He’d always hated this part, even back when he'd been naive enough to believe that the firm he was about to buy out had just had a run of bad luck. Back then he would have been secure in the knowledge that the ‘merger’ he’d ‘negotiated’ was a good deal for both parties, but he’d still been aware that it was a defeat for the original owners.

Now he knew all too well the depths Gabriel would sink to - the depths he would drag Adrien down to - all for the sake of his precious shipping empire. The clear disgust and loathing on that woman’s face only added to his own sense of personal guilt and disgust.

At least this time, if everything went according to plan, this family’s business would be just fine. This time, Adrien could look forward to handing control of that company back to the people who’d built it. He glanced at the time on the terminal and took a deep, calming breath.

Please, Ladybug… don’t let me down.

Adrien, in his persona as the mole Chat Noir, had given Ladybug and her team of raiders especially good intel this time, all but painting the word TARGET in bold letters on his own face. That, plus the file he’d sent containing a preview of every last blot on his father’s stainless reputation… yes. He knew how much Ladybug loathed Adrien Agreste personally. She’d often claimed a burning need to punch his face in their double-encoded communiques - not that she knew it was his face - so he was sure she would jump at the chance. He only hoped she could pull it off.

The raiding crew of the Miraculous had caused enough disruption to the Agreste Shipping lines that Gabriel had actually hired the Akumas - a mercenary group known for their brutal efficiency - to track her down. Chat Noir had warned her, and so far she’d managed to elude their crack agents, making them look remarkably foolish in the process.

He only hoped that, when the time came and he found himself on board the Miraculous at last, that she would leave him enough wits - and teeth - to stutter out the recognition phrase Chat Noir had given her.

----

Ladybug’s assault and infiltration were quieter than Adrien had expected. He wasn’t part of the Hawkmoth’s crew, so when the alarms went off, his only role was to get to a secure area and stay out of everyone else’s way. The most he heard of it was the alarm and muffled shouting in the distance while Nathalie hurried him away.

It wasn’t what he wanted - he would much rather have had an active role in the ship’s defense. But of course Gabriel would never allow that, and Nathalie enforced his rules with an iron fist. So he ended up crouched behind Nathalie and his Personal Gorilla Bodyguard™, waiting breathlessly for Ladybug to find them in the reinforced bunker that posed as a small cargo hold in the ship designs. Every small sound echoed in the space, but he wasn’t bothered by it. In fact, he hoped Ladybug’s team had audio sensors sensitive enough to pick them up.

A touch on his shoulder made his heart rate skyrocket even more - but it was only Nathalie, turning to check on him. Adrien covered her hand with his own and squeezed, letting some of his excitement show with a shaky breath. She must have assumed he was scared and squeezed back before turning to the hatch and adjusting her grip on her firearm.

He’d tried to talk her into giving him one of the shipboard assault rifles, too. He wanted to make sure his ‘protectors’ went down quickly if need be, but he told her that he needed some way to defend himself. She’d only given him a look. Apparently Gabriel was willing to sacrifice his only son before allowing him a weapon.

God he couldn’t wait to be free of his life.

A commotion in the corridor outside focused his attention. A sizzling sound came from the door and it whooshed open, briefly blinding him before the bulky forms of the intruders blocked the light. The dark shapes were outlined in silhouettes the color of their hardened spacesuits: pink, orange, green, and gold. His heart leaped again and he fought to suppress a smile.

Nathalie and the bodyguard were quickly dispatched with stun blasts, though it took several simultaneous shots to bring the bodyguard down. Then it was Adrien’s turn. He scooted back as the leader advanced, heart pounding with excitement and fear. Chat Noir had advocated for a hostage situation, but it was possible that Ladybug had decided on outright assassination. One way or another, this would all be over shortly.

The pink-haloed leader raised her weapon, pointing it at him. Adrien gulped and closed his eyes. He didn’t even have time to register the blast before his mind went numb.

----

Marinette leaned against a cabinet in the medbay, waiting for their hostage to wake up. It shouldn’t take long - the effects of the stunners they’d used could be counteracted by the contents of any decently stocked medbay, and Marinette made sure the Miraculous was always overstocked with medical supplies.

Her crew was there, too, all except for Max, who couldn’t leave the bridge. Nino and Alya were busy flirting with each other, Kim was trying to balance a (needle-less) syringe on the end of his nose, and Markov hovered overhead, ready to record everything. Marinette was taking no chances on being accused of human rights violations, though her hands ached with the need to punch their guest.

The unfairly attractive blonde strapped to the medical chair in front of her stirred, and the tension in the room skyrocketed. Kim put the syringe down, Nino and Alya looked up, and Markov beeped to indicate recording was in progress. Marinette also stood up and crossed her arms to avoid temptation.

Adrien Agreste opened unfocused eyes, staring into space with his head lolling a bit. He was clearly still out of it, but it didn’t take long for him to come to full alertness. Curiously, he remained silent, merely looking around the room in a manner so unconcerned that it immediately made Marinette suspicious.

“Are you carrying a tracker?” she asked harshly. They’d scanned him for any such device, of course, but it was possible Agreste Senior managed to obtain something small enough that it wouldn’t show up on a scan.

Agreste Junior met her eyes and his own widened slightly in obvious recognition. “Uh… no. Not that I’m aware of, I mean.”

He smiled, and it was... joyful?

“I’m afraid I’m going to miss that meeting after all, Ms. Dupain-Cheng, though I still hope for that drink sometime. Looks like you’ll just have to keep control of your own business. Thanks for not killing me, by the way - to all of you. I know you must have been tempted,” he added, looking around at them all before leaning his head back with a satisfied smile. “I wish I could see the look on my father’s face when he realizes he’s not getting me back.”

His tone was so full of glee that Marinette barely managed to keep her mouth from dropping open, but she must have looked as astonished as she felt, because his smile turned into a full-fledged grin.

“Oh, haven’t you figured it out yet, Ladybug?” he said, grinning and winking at her. Then he said the three words she’d been waiting to hear for over a year now, ever since her informant had told her he wanted out. Words she’d imagined coming out of the mouth of anyone - literally anyone - but his.

“Plagg, claws out.”

All four of them gasped. Marinette gaped at the man she'd thought she would loathe for all eternity.

“Chat Noir?”

----

“I trust the papers are in order,” Marinette Dupain-Cheng said, smiling at everyone on the other side of the conference table. Her parents sat beside her, but they continued to let her take the lead.

“Drawn up and ready to sign,” the lawyer said, tapping on a tablet before handing it to her. Beside him, Adrien Agreste smiled softly at her. Marinette ignored him and read the documents carefully, making sure that what remained of Agreste Shipping relinquished all claim to her parents’ business, and that the court-mandated payout would cover all the expenses of getting back up and running, with a nice cushion. Satisfied, she handed the tablet to her mother and father, who read and signed it. There was a round of handshakes and congratulations - sincere, as far as she could tell, with no trace of Adrien’s former smug persona.

“Well,” Marinette said, once everyone else had left. “I believe you owe me a drink.”

Adrien’s face lit up. “I do, indeed! Well, who am I to go back on my word? Shall we?”

He held out his arm and Marinette took it. After all, Ladybug had trusted Chat Noir and that had turned out well. Perhaps the future for Marinette and Adrien was equally bright.

@luckycharmzine

[joontier]

Ramen Rivals

synopsis: Rivals in the kitchen, rivals even with ramen -  two rivaling restaurateurs fight over the only cup of instant noodles left in the convenience store

pairings: kim seokjin x reader (oneshot)

rating:  R | genre: classic e2l trope; gourmet chef! seokjin and reader ; smut; humor; fluff ; crack | warnings: swearing, explicit sex, kitchen sex, implied bathroom sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 12k RIP MY BRAIN

a/n: Ahhhh, his is actually a re-written version of one i posted way way back 2018 LOOOL idk what to feel anymore after this akfaowiejfoawe the last parts are actually heavily unedited ACK 

navi. 

Kim Seokjin. 

That’s it. That’s the name. That’s the tweet. 

You never knew three syllables could affect you this much, could bring you this great distress. The mere mention of it makes you reel, roll your eyes, ball up your fists, makes the tiny hairs on your nape stand on end. 

Long story short, Kim Seokjin makes your blood boil. 

It doesn’t help either that he was Adonis himself – complete with cat eyes, plump lips, and a dashing smile, or that he has rock-hard abs hiding underneath that white double-breasted jacket, or that he busts out corny ass dad jokes as much as he winks at people (which is a LOT of times, by the way), or that he’s an undeniably an exceptional chef (such as yourself, duh) and has now erected a gourmet restaurant next door to rival yours, OR the completely obvious fact that you two have history. 

The short period of time in the past that you shared with him wasn’t exactly one you would be embarrassed of, or something you want to forget. Instead, it’s the exact opposite. You’re ashamed of the fact that you hadn’t gotten over it until now, three years later. He was your OGF – Mr. One Great Fuck. Kim Seokjin still holds the belt for the title of making you cum six consecutive times in a single night. How he managed to do that and how nobody else has measured up to that, you’ll never know. 

You’d initially met him at Les Coulisses Du Chef in Paris, where you had enrolled yourself in a patisserie class to expand your knowledge on French pastry and hopefully get a certificate for it. You’d been meaning to take the class since forever, yet you’d been waitlisted year after year until last year when one of the applicants had backed out, they’d called you in, merely half a month before the program started. 

Three weeks into the semester, Seokjin had introduced himself to you, or rather, had told you a dad joke as an introductory preview of his personality. You’re glad he did though, else you would have been surprised if you discovered the kid was part Greek god, part chef, part dad jokes, and .01% brain cell. 

“What do you call a fake noodle?” asks .01% brain-cell-man seated beside you, rolling up his sleeves to reveal the prominent veins on his forearms. You’re momentarily distracted by the action, completely missing out the question he’d just asked you. “Sorry, what?” 

“What do you call a fake noodle?” Gosh, you shouldn’t have asked him again. If only he knew the number of times you’d hear- “Impasta!” He snorts, holding a fettuccine noodle in one hand and the other clutching onto his tummy as he doubles in his laughter. 

You’re just standing beside him, slack-jawed, unsure if this was just a sick dare. Who was this guy? Was he even in the same class as you? Was he high? Perhaps he mistook flour for coke? His laughter dies down when he sees your face, sans-reaction. 

“Wait, you understand English right? Um… comprendre English? Oui?” 

“Yes, I can understand English.” 

“Then why didn’t you laugh?” You raise a brow. This stranger just comes up to you, tells you a lame joke, and now he expects you to laugh? 

“This is gonna sound real mean, but it was really an old joke...and a lame one at that,” you retort, your face crumpled into one of faux pity. 

“Hey! No need to make it personal!” he counters, placing a hand over his heart, face contorting into a grimace. “You, Rafa!” He half-shouts, pointing an accusatory finger to someone behind you. “You said it would be a great ice-breaker!” Your eyes follow the Rafa he’s pointing at, the latter quickly shakes his head, telling you he doesn’t know the man in French. 

“Is this man bothering you?” Rafa nods sadly. 

“What?! How dare you turn the tables on me?? I’m your only friend!” You turn to glare at pasta guy, who continues to wail behind you. Rafa snorts from across at the sight of pasta guy making a fool of himself behind you and eventually takes pity on him. 

“I’m sorry, Jin’s just been meaning to talk to your since the start of semester, so he’s asked me for advice on how to approach you...I told him to tell you a good ‘ole joke in the kitchen since we’re all chefs here...I didn’t actually think he’d take it...seriously.”

“Wow! Betraying and exposing me all at once!! Why won’t you just fry me alive in olive oil, huh? That would be less painful.” Jin-pasta complains, arms gesticulating wildly in the air. You watch them unabashedly bicker in front of you concurrently amused at the whole spectacle. 

The three of you become close friends soon thereafter, Jin claiming your trio as the ‘Kitchen Musketeers’. Yes, he managed to convince the entire class to call your tiny group of friends that name. And yes, that wasn’t the worst idea Seokjin had in mind when he was considering a name for your trio. You didn't even want to start to reminisce about the rest of Seokjin’s bizarre suggestions: Charlie’s Cooks (to his defense, you did have a substitute mentor named Charlie), Gourmetbusters, Pecanpuff Girls, The Three Sausagees (more like two sausages and one bun). You’ve always cringed at the last one.

Despite your trio’s antics, Rafa considers himself the third wheel more than anything. Rafael was not oblivious to the crush on Seokjin that you’ve been harboring for months. 

It was the day of your graduation from the short course you’d taken - the three of you decided to have a celebratory wine party at Seokjin’s rented apartment. That same night was when you found yourself drunk on pinot noir and Seokjin’s lips. The rest was history. 

Finding the bed and the rest of his apartment empty the next morning, you took your leave and fared your walk of shame along the streets of Paris with teary eyes and a bruised heart. 

Your Mr. OGF also turned out to be Mr. One God-Tier Fucker. Or perhaps the title also belonged to you, Ms. One Gigantic Fool, who thought that maybe she could have been more than a one-night-stand between two colleagues whose relationship could never be more than a professional one. 

Colleagues. The apparent ‘label’ lets out a boisterous laugh at your face. Gosh, you’re a pathetic fucking fool. 

Thankfully, your flight back to Korea was scheduled that day as well,, so you wouldn’t have to see Seokjin’s pretty face any longer or rather - what you wouldn’t admit even to yourself - you wouldn’t be able to confront the face of the truth you wanted to hide deep beneath the recesses of your heart. 

At least, that’s what you thought. 

One and a half years after you got your certificate in Paris, you had finally saved enough money to start your business - a gourmet restaurant situated in the heart of Gangnam. You already had patrons from the restaurant where you previously worked, and the opening of Canapé had garnered more customers than you initially expected. 

Business had been thriving for a year, that is, until someone decided to erect a new gourmet restaurant just beside yours. Having a rivalling establishment wasn’t new news to you, neither did it truly bother you as to no longer having the monopoly in gourmet restaurants located in this part of Gangnam. 

A week after the opening of your neighbor’s Ambrosia - you decided to bring over a friendly bottle of wine you had shipped straight from France with the hopes that you can become acquainted with your fellow restaurateur. 

As you move along the crosswalk and reach Ambrosia’s podium outside intended for the maitre d’, you shift your weight between your legs, an unconscious habit that only Seokjin took notice of. Ridding your thoughts of the man who shall no longer be named, you let your mind wander off to your own worker’s description of the alleged owner. 

Out of all your staff’s depiction of Ambrosia’s owner, it’s your sommelier’s and manager’s descriptions that have struck you the most. 

Yoongi, your timid sommelier, tells you that the owner was a stout man in his mid-forties with Caucasian features, while your manager, Jinhee said he was a man around your age with a face and built that could easily pass for a K-Pop idol. 

You were leaning towards Yoongi’s description because Jinhee would have most likely mistaken a real idol for the owner since there were plenty of celebrities who hung out in Gangnam and would meet up in restaurants like yours. Either way, celebrity look-a-like or not, you were determined to meet your neighbor. 

“There’s someone outside, Hobi,” a busser informs the maitre d as he wipes the last table for the day. Three pairs of eyes look at you through the glass. 

You continuously peer from the outside as you can’t see much from due to the darkness inside, where only a few dim lights are on. “Go on then, Hobi,” the owner states, nudging the maitre d towards the door. 

Hoseok takes a glimpse of you through the glass panel and faces the owner. “Hyung, she seems pretty. Why don’t you do it? You ought to have a proper girlfriend right now. It’s about time you move on from your love interest in Paris! Plus you’re the owner of the restaurant!”

“Hobi, I still have to do kitchen check, remember? And for the record, I have moved on from her. Chop chop.” Hobi gives him an incredulous look, highly doubting his boss had already forgotten about her. “Right away, Mr. Seokdon Ramsay.”

You’re drawn from your thoughts when you hear the melodic sound of the bell as the door opens and a man with a bright smile comes out. “Hello! My name’s Hobi, can I help you with anything?”

“Um..hi! I’m from Canapé just across the street… are you, perhaps, the owner of Ambrosia?” 

“Oh! I’m not the owner…I wish I was though if I had someone pretty like you looking for me…” You laugh awkwardly in response, unsure of what you should reply to such a line. The two of you remain standing there, staring at each other. “Um...is the owner there then? It would be nice if I can speak to him or her or them…” you let out a small cough, looking away.

“Right! Of course, sorry about that! I’ll tell him to come out.” Hobi scurries back inside and soon you hear incoherent yelling and laughter from inside the restaurant.

“Hyungnim! Hyung!!” Hobi calls out once more, eyes searching wildly for Seokjin. “What now?” Seokjin emerges from the kitchen with the busser in tow. “Hyung! She’s fucking hot! And I feel like I’ve known her from somewhere…plus she says she’s from our neighboring restaurant! I told you, you were the one who should’ve gone out there. By the way, I think she’s calling wine o’clock too – and the bottle she’s holding looks like expensive French Cabernet Sauvignon!”

Seokjin narrows his eyes at his maitre d, “You seem to have been spending a lot of time with that sommelier from across the street.” The owner of Ambrosia shakes his head at his friend, who pushes him towards the door. “Hurry! You wouldn’t want to keep a pretty girl waiting!”

You’ve been waiting patiently outside, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you watch people come and go. The streets of Gangnam was always lively, and it still surprises you at this point that you had decided to put up a restaurant in the midst of the hustle and bustle of a city like such because you’ve always wanted to erect one by the countryside with the whole organic theme going on. Nonetheless, you were happy with your decision of establishing one in Gangnam.

The bell dings again, and as you turn on your heel to check the much-anticipated owner of Canapé, you nearly drop the pricey bottle of red wine in your hands. It’s Mr. man-who-shall-no-longer-be-named. You’re stood there shell-shocked, mouth agape at the man in front of you.

He hasn’t changed one bit, well, except for the more handsome features. He’s changed his hairstyle too, now opting for an exposed forehead instead of those bangs he’d impulsively cut by his own in the middle of the night. His shoulders remain the same, miraculously; just an inch wider and he could’ve been a great replacement for a meter stick at Encore, the clothing store that offered bespoke clothing just down the road.

“_________?”

Seokjin starts to speak, yet you can’t seem to bring yourself to do the same. There’s too much you wanted to say, ask , and rant about that your mouth remains hanging open awkwardly – almost as if you’re squawking. You bow in embarrassment, apologizing for your behavior and run back to your restaurant.

The Gourmet Chefs Association of East Asia was holding its annual even today at The Andaz Seoul and you just had this gut feeling Seokjin was going to be there. With yesterday’s discovery that your neighboring, rivaling, restaurant was owned by none other than Kim Seokjin himself, you already had an inkling he was invited to GCAEA’s event tonight.

Your suspicions had been confirmed as one of the event’s producers sent you an email earlier this morning, that which contains the list of nominees for the title of GCAEA’s Chef of the Year – the same title that was bestowed upon you just last year. Seokjin was the first nominee for this year’s awarding ceremony.

Kudos to him. Despite knowing that your hatred for him was fueled by more personal reasons, you knew deep down inside the recesses of your brain that he was a really, really talented chef. Probably just as good as you – of course, you can easily admit that you’re still lacking in plenty but you don’t think your pride will allow you to accept defeat from Seokjin just like that after all he’d done.

You only had the chance to look at Seokjin for a good seven seconds yesterday, but it had taken you at least seven hours, a tub of ice cream, and a Captain America movie marathon to reassure yourself that having seen him so close yesterday wasn’t just an actual nightmare.

As much as you hated to admit it, he remained just as handsome as he was three years ago. What you couldn’t get over with though, was how he actually smiled at you yesterday. That little fucker had to audacity to show his perfect little pearly whites at you! All over again, you’re reminded of how he left you in his room the morning after, or how much of a fucking fool you were for having believed that the two of you could’ve been something more than friends.

Rearranging your dress for the nth time today, you take another look at the mirror, twisting and turning to see if there might be some thread hanging off the hems of the dress. You’re starting to question your decided outfit for the night. You had a dress done just for this event – or more specifically, what sort of dress Jinhee had ordered to be sewn just for this event.

It hugged your curves perfectly – the dress a perfect merger between modest and seductive. It had a nude-illusion base with silver sequins sewn onto the thin fabric and a low-cut neckline that gives everyone a lovely view of your cleavage.

This one could easily pass as an evening gown for a Miss Universe candidate. You felt confident, beautiful, and sexy but at the same time you felt like you wanted to just huddle yourself up in your duvet in the corner of your room and eat ice cream. You weren’t uncomfortable with showing skin from time to time, but having been clad in a double-breasted jacket on a daily means it felt strange having your neckline displayed in public.

Your phone dings, indicating a text message. Yoongi had offered to be your chauffeur for this evening, of course, after being coerced and bribed by Jinhee into doing it.

[yoongles 🍷 ] 6:43pm

hurry up, or i’ll leave you behind

[you] 6:43pm

yoongs

It’s MY car WE’RE using

you don’t even have my keys yet

[yoongles 🍷 ] 6:45pm

u get the idea, woman

dont keep me waiting

“Well maybe if you won’t stop texting, I’ll be quicker,” you grumble to your phone, placing it inside your purse so Yoongi won’t bother you any longer. Doing one last twirl in the mirror, you grab your necessities you’ve gathered on your bedside table and sweep them into your purse.

“You clean up nicely, boss.”

Squinting your eyes at Yoongi with his words, you send him a grateful smile nonetheless. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.” This was the closes thing to an actual compliment that you were ever going to receive from Yoongi in your entire lifetime, so you were sure to keep his words close to your heart.

Taking your car keys from your purse, you toss them to Yoongi who catches them deftly with one hand. “Ooh, you looked cool when you did that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You gave me a compliment, so I’m going to give you one in return. As a token of gratitude.”

“Remind me never to say anything to you ever again.”

“Hey! You talk back like that to the woman who’s giving you money for your daily needs?! And you won’t even open the door for me?” you ask your past neighbor-turned-sommelier-turned-close-friend. “It’s called a salary, Ms. _______. And I receive that as compensation because I give you my services in exchange for it. Plus, I’m already seated here,” Yoongi shrugs, adjusting the rear view mirror.

Rolling your eyes, you begrudgingly open the door to your backseat, exerting much effort in swinging one leg after the other with your incredibly tight evening gown. And, of course making sure the short train won’t get caught between the car doors.

Yoongi checks if you’re all good through the rear-view mirror and once he sees you buckle up, he lets the engine roar to life. You take out your phone from your purse to see if you’ve received any other emails, only for the phone to get flung from your hands – including you.

The car surges forward all of a sudden and Yoongi steps on the breaks just in time. You hear Yoongi curse under his breath, looking over his shoulder to check if you’re okay. “Shit! I forgot you drove a Maserati!”

“I think the more appropriate thing to do is to ask me if I’m still okay…Also, it doesn’t matter what kind of car I drive, because I think you forgot how to actually drive at all.” You complain, adjusting the seatbelt across your chest, the sudden jolt leaving a diagonal red mark just by your collarbone.

“Well, you aren’t dead, so technically speaking, you’re okay.” Unbelievable. You let out a loud scoff, unable to think of anything wittier to say. “Just please get me there in one piece, Yoongs.”

You manage to get to the hotel in one piece. Thank heavens.

The small talk you made with Yoongi on your way to the hotel had temporarily taken your mind off the jitters but now that he’s left you standing by the entrance of the hotel, the nerves had definitely returned, tenfold. You’re also unfortunately dropped off at a spot where a standee of yours holding the Gourmet Chef of the Year award is staring back at you. God, you hated that photo. They did not give your eyebrows justice, at all.

You exhale all your nervousness away as you take the steps to the lobby. “_______!” Someone calls out, the voice too familiar to miss out on.  “Sunbae!” You turn around to see one of the most revered chefs in Korea, and definitely one of your favorite mentors, Choi Jiyoung. The woman nearing her fifties extends her arms out in greeting and you give her a tight hug. You had worked under her supervision in the past, and she had taught you almost everything you knew about Korean cuisine.  

“Ah, it’s been too long darling! Look at you! You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman!” Misun praises as her grip on you tightens and pulls you by the elbow, “Surely, there’s a lucky man that has swept my sweet _______ by now!” Your senior adds, punctuating her sentence with a wink at the end.

“I’ve been pretty busy these days… and dating hasn’t really crossed my mind recently.”

‘That’s because the last man I’ve wanted to date was three years ago and he’d just considered me a one-night stand and now after I’ve struggled to burn his existence from my memory and to be very frank with you, I really haven’t gotten over him and now he just so happens to be the owner of the restaurant beside mine. Also, he’s stealing my customers.’ Comes your real answer inside your head, but you’ll never tell anyone that.

Jiyoung pouts at your answer, but taps your forearm, “We’ll talk more about that inside. Come on darling, the event is starting.”

Seokjin sees you finally enter the lobby, eyes scanning the few people scattered around the area as you look for a familiar face you could approach. All eyes are on you, yet you don’t notice, like always. You don’t realize how beautiful you are, blushing furiously under the simplest compliments. You’ve got this certain charm that certainly draws people towards you, all the more when they get to know you better, just like what you did to him.

Seokjin remembers the first time he’d actually seen you – on the television. He’d been scrolling aimlessly through the channels, trying to look for something to watch as he waits for the water to boil for his ramen. He’d accidentally stopped by Channel K99’s ‘Choi Jiyoung Kitchen Specials’ reruns during midnight when he checked his phone after it dinged, alerting him of a notification on his email: just another alert to renew his ‘KOREA’ magazine subscription, where he’d secretly get new recipes, try them out, add a little twist, and serve them to his customers at his parent’s restaurant.

As he was about to press the off button on the remote, you enter the frame as the camera pans out when Choi Jiyoung introduces you as her new assistant and protégé. For some reason, this show just got all the more interesting for Seokjin, who’s clearly drawn to you and not the scrumptious seafood platter that Chef Choi was preparing.

He’d followed you on all his social media accounts after that night, even going as far as turning on his notifications for each post you made. He was unsure what had drawn him to you in the first place – whether it be the fact that you were probably the first female chef he’d seen in Korea that was just about his age (that or he really just didn’t pay any attention to women in the same field during the early years of his career), or that you were unbelievably skilled at such a young age with apparently, a lot of culinary awards and certificates under your belt.

Funny enough, Seokjin wasn’t really one to delve into the world of pastry but judging from your most recent Instagram posts during those days, you had taken interest in patisserie, which only caused Seokjin to attempt baking his own first croissant. He finally understood your enthusiastic devotion for it ever since. Then came Les Coulisses Du Chef, where Rafa, an exchange-student-turned-friend of his from his culinary school days had secured him a slot for a semester at the prestigious school of gastronomy in Paris to get a certificate on French pastry.

He wasn’t expecting you though, out of all people, to join the official list of the class as well, last minute.

It took him three weeks before he finally spoke to you, much to Rafa’s exasperation. Seokjin would keep nagging the French man, telling him how much he wanted to talk to you, yet he can’t seem to grow some balls to do so. In annoyance, he’d told Seokjin that the best way to break the ice was to tell a joke – this time, much to Seokjin’s chagrin. He’d never thought secondhand embarrassment was a thing until Seokjin actually heeded his advice and told you about the ‘impasta’. Surprisingly enough, it worked, so voila!

If only you knew how nervous Seokjin was during that time, clammy hands and all. In fact – if only you knew how jittery Seokjin was whenever he was near you. He’s pretty sure he’d ruined his credibility and career after busting out that lame ass joke Rafa had told him, but it turned out to be the only way he actually got closer to you so he was partly grateful for Rafa’s advice – reputation be damned. 

Just like tonight, the moment his eyes fall on you, he feels like he’s being drawn back to his room, eyes trained on you as you diligently followed each of Chef’s Choi’s directions, or that time he’d first spoke to you back in your French patisserie class. He diverts his gaze elsewhere from the fear that you might catch him staring.

“Hey, man. Isn’t that ________? The girl you’ve been crushing on since forever?” Minjae asks, elbowing Seokjin at the waist. The latter grimaces slightly in pain, before reluctantly letting his gaze settle on you once more.

Jungkook returns from the bathroom, joining the duo by the reception. “Wow, who’s that?” the younger man asks, nodding towards your direction. With Jungkook being a fairly new member of the association, curiosity is getting the best of him with all the faces he’s seeing.

Similar to a little kid at a toy shop, he’s constantly asking his hyungs if the people he was seeing were the actual people he’d seen on the internet or on the television. Minjae, who indulges every question of the maknae of their small circle of friends with great enthusiasm, answers Jungkook. “That’s _______, Kook.”

“No way! That’s her?! As in the _________?” The only female chef in Korea who received her first Michelin star in her twenties?! As in ________ Choi Jiyoung’s protégé?!”

“Yes, Kook, that’s her alright. And also the same ________ who will hear you soon enough and will find you weird if you don’t keep your voice down.”

“She’s also the same recipient of the award your Seokjin hyung is nominated for this year,” Jiwon adds, wriggling his eyebrows at Seokjin.

“That’s so cool!” Jungkook exclaims as their whole group watches you approach the infamous Choi Jiyoung. “Hyung, do you think she’s single?” Jungkook asks to nobody in particular, considering they were all his hyungs. Minjae and Jiwon glance at Seokjin who returns their glances with a light glare.

“Why don’t you go find out after the party then?” Seokjin suggests, ignoring that certain pang of jealousy that blossoms in his chest at his own proposal.

“Tell me you’re kidding, hyung.”

“Huh?”

“Come on! That’s your girl! You’re going to let go of her just like that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kook.”

“Hyung. I may be the maknae, but I am neither blind nor dumb. Anyone with two eyes and a functioning brain will know you have the hots for her.” Minjae and Jiwon snicker at the younger one’s comment. Seokjin, albeit being second to the youngest, gives them a glare the makes them cower behind Jungkook.

“Am I really that obvious?”

“Well no. But every time we go out, the only notifications that pop up in your screen are her posts on Instagram. Don’t you think that’s a tad bit…pathetic, hyung?”

Ooh and aahs  come from the two other men, who are reveling at the harsh bluntness of Jungkook’s words. It’s the maknae who receives Seokjin’s side-eye next. “Need I remind you who’s the older one here?”

“The point exactly! We’re not getting any younger, hyung. Better ask her out now…before I beat you to it.” Seokjin’s mouth falls open in astonishment, while Jungkook just smiles at him in return. “Come on hyung, they’re calling us inside.”

“Well, well, would you look at that stunner over there?” She comments, nodding her head towards someone over your shoulder. There he was, the infamous Kim Seokjin, clad in an all-black ensemble, a single silver chain necklace hanging on his neck. His hair is swept to the side, revealing a bit of his forehead.

“Oh boy.” Jung Chungae fans herself as your greatest rival turns sideways, showing off his side-profile while animatedly telling a story to a fellow colleague seated with them. “Oh how I wish we could just go back to our golden years for just one night!” The rest of the table laughs at Chungae’s comment.

“I personally think you and that man would make a great couple.” Jiyoung says, leaning towards you.

“The other man sat on his right doesn’t seem to think that way though,” Chungae says, picking on her dessert, whispering ‘cute guy from same table’ discreetly. As if on cue, the rest of the ladies, you included, turn your heads towards Seokjin’s table. True to sunbae Chungae’s implications, there was another man beside Seokjin who was staring back at you. You believe Jungkook was his name… nevertheless, you get shy under his stare, averting your eyes back to the presently attractive flower arrangement at the center of your table.

The servers pile inside in pairs, approaching each table to take your dessert plates. You see the host rise from his chair and take the stairs to the stage. He taps the microphone, checking if the audio was working, “To announce this year’s Gourmet Chefs Association of East Asia – Chef of the Year award, may I call on Ms. _________.”

Minjae nudges Seokjin as you stand up from your seat. “Hyung, quit it before other people see you.”

“Come on now, get your ass up and walk her to the stage!”

“She can perfectly walk on her own though?”

“Come on, it’s plus points both for her and the crowd! Give these oldies a show, idiot.”

“N-“

“Hyung, if you won’t do it, I will.” Jungkook says from across the table, eyeing you as you excuse yourself from the other ladies in your table.

Seokjin stares at Jungkook and purses his lips. He discards of the napkin on his lap at once, lightly throwing the piece of cloth on the table. As he stands up, few murmurs of curiosity follow him as he approaches you.

“Ms. ________, may I?” You’re surprised when somebody suddenly appears on your side, offering his arm out for you to hold onto. You hear sunbae Jiyoung quietly cheer you on, nodding her head once to accept Seokjin’s display of manners. The rest of the audience likewise cheers the young man on with a few men whooping and a number of ladies cooing at the sight.  Frankly, it wasn’t even that long of a walk until the stage but a part of you was grateful, knowing for yourself that you truly weren’t used to wearing long dresses like these. 

As you both reach the stage, with your hand hooked around Seokjin’s elbow, he places another hand atop yours for extra support. The action seems to have the opposite effect. Suddenly all too aware of the proximity between you two, a shiver runs through your spine, secretly hoping the gulp that you make at the sensation goes unnoticed. At the end of the stairs, you give him a curt bow and say your thanks, unable to look him in the eye.

The emcee hands you the microphone and an envelope, containing the name of the awardee. You tap the mic once, then twice. “This is on, right?” The audience laughs in response. “Woops, sorry,” you apologize meekly before starting your half-impromptu, half-practiced speech.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to thank, first and foremost, the board of judges who have bestowed upon me this same award this time last year, and now I have had the greatest honor to announce the awardee later on. I would also like to send my gratitude to all those who have been my mentors here in Korea and overseas – for I have taken your pieces of advice to my heart and they have guided me wonderfully throughout these years, especially sunbae Choi Jiyoung, who has molded me into the woman and chef that I am today. Also, here’s a special mention to Chef Lee for having prepared this wonderful course for us this lovely evening – I absolutely admire how he manages to make Korean staples like Kimchi Jjigae and Pajeon so…flavorful like it’s been made with his entire heart and soul poured into each detail. Wow. Could we have a round of applause for Chef Lee tonight?”

The audience complies quickly with your request while Chef Lee gives you a bow of gratitude by the doors of the event hall.

“Lastly, I would also like to acknowledge the presence of a beloved mentor of mine, back when I took patisserie classes back in Paris – Mr. Frank Boucher, who had, by the way, also prepared his signature Apple Tarte Tatin for our dessert tonight. So without further ado, the Gourmet Chefs Association of East Asia – Chef of the Year award goes to, drumroll please!” Your tongue feels like it got stuck in your throat, but you pull yourself back to reality quick enough so no one else notices.

“Kim Seokjin! Congratulations!”

Seokjin had just barely gotten back to his seat when he hears his name being called. He stands up, beautiful facial features twisted into one of confusion. “You won Chef of the Year bro! Congrats!” Minjae pats Seokjin’s butt briefly before pushing him back towards the stage.

As you hand him the trophy, you give each other a small smile, likewise posing for the cameras. The photographer gestures for you to scoot closer to each other with his hands. It’s getting harder to fake your smile. You wanted nothing more but to go home. Or maybe you could pass by Canapé and take a bottle of wine home for yourself 

Thankfully, the awarding the Chef of the Year signals the nearing conclusion of the event, and as soon as you get back to your seat, you send a text to Yoongi, telling him that the event will be over in a couple more minutes.

The event ends quicker than expected, and you find yourself bidding goodbye to everyone else as soon as the emcee officially ends the ceremony. You badly wanted to go home and rest, with only a few hours left for sleep before another work day starts.

You see Yoongi pull up by the entrance after a few more minutes. “How was the party?” You tell him what happened during the event, completely leaving out Seokjin’s appearance and antics. “Let’s just drop you off by your apartment first then I’ll go drive back to the restaurant to grab something.”

“I can go with?”

“It’s fine Yoongs. Besides, we have work in a few hours. You already sleep during work, what more if I keep you awake for an extra couple of minutes tonight?”

Yoongi just shakes his head at you, saying nothing else in reply. He finds you uncharacteristically quiet after a big event like this and wants to ask you about it, but you seem too lost in your thoughts that he doesn’t want to bother you any further. You arrive at his place shortly and as you get down from the car to switch places, you give him a hug and thank him for being your chauffeur. “Oh, and _______? Your French Cabernet Sauvignon is at the third row from the top. And drink at home, please. See you tomorrow.”

Passing through the main entrance of your restaurant, you turn on a few lights by the wine rack to aid your search for the alcoholic beverage. You make a beeline for the wooden structure attached to the wall. Third row from the top… reaching out, you grab on a bottle, reading out its name, ‘Chateau Pichon Longueville 2015 Pauillac’. This will most likely do the trick.

All of a sudden, a knock comes from your door, startling you out of your wits. Quickly, you scurry to the kitchen, looking for something that can protect you in case this person means harm. Your extensive collection of knives is what comes into your mind first, but you wouldn’t want them to be considered murder weapons, in case the worst scenario comes into play.

So you settle for the rolling pin, clutching the cylindrical utensil tightly in your hands. “Who’s there?” you call out, hoping the fear wont seep through your words. “Um, it’s Frank. Frank Boucher. Is that you inside, _______?”

Letting your hands fall to the side, you cautiously near the door, still clutching the rolling pin in your hands. You can’t be too sure nowadays. You sneak a glace through the glass panels to confirm his identity. Breathing a sigh of relief when you see it really was your mentor back in Paris, you set aside the rolling pin and unlock the door.

“_________!”

“Ah, and to what do I owe this pleasure, Chef Boucher?”

“I wanted to talk to you back at the event, but I’m guessing you left early…”

“Um, yes…still a lot of work to do tomorrow.”  

“Can I get you anything, perhaps? I- I grabbed a bottle of wine just now… would you like some? Or water maybe?”

“Wine is always a great choice, _______. Also I’m here to tell you something important, but I’ll let you grab two glasses first, for our usage.”

“Of course! Please feel free to sit anywhere you like.”

“Quaint restaurant you have here, ______. This is the same Canapé you told me in your email right?”  

“Yep! Would you mind a few crackers and goat’s cheese to go with the wine?”

“That sounds perfect, though you really don’t have to bother yourself with all of that…” You shrug off his comment, reassuring him that it was the least you could do after having taught you so much when you were back in Paris.

You finally get everything ready, one hand holding a plate full of crackers and cheese, while the other holds two wine glasses. As soon as you get seated, Frank takes upon him the honor of opening the bottle, pouring a sufficient amount of the beverage onto your glasses. “I meant to give this to you personally earlier, but I could no longer find you after the party ended.” He hands you a white envelope with your name and Canapé’s address printed at the back. 

“You’ve been invited to the Asian Gourmet Conference in the Philippines next week.” You choke on the wine you’re drinking, embarrassingly turning into a coughing mess in front of your mentor. He looks at you expectantly as you open the envelope.

“Wait. This is real?! No way!” Frank laughs at your reaction, excitement evident in your voice as you skim over the words indicated on the paper. “Oh my goodness! This is such a great event! And the opportunities! Please bring the wine home, Chef Boucher! It’s on the house.” The French man laughs harder at your offer, but he doesn’t decline.

“I’m glad you’re this excited, because you’re going with Seokjin.”

Immensely thanking the heavens that you were looking down the whole time while reading the document, else your mentor would’ve seen the instantaneous scowl that graced your face at the mere mention of the-man-who-shall-not-be-named.

You force a smile onto your features before looking back up at Frank. “Kim Seokjin? As in Kim Seokjin who just won GCAEA’s Chef of the Year Award earlier?”

With slumped shoulders, you lean farther backward in your seat. The Asian Gourmet Conference was one of the most anticipated conferences in the whole of Asia. It was an event highly awaited by many in the culinary field, especially one of its main events where they invite gourmet chefs from all parts of the world to compete for the best dish ever and a $200,000 prize.

The contest was another thing though, because two representatives will be vying for each country, so the winning pair will get to come home with $100,000 each. You really wouldn’t have put any thought into who your partner would have been if you were.

Your head fills with dread at the thought of having Seokjin as your partner. It was bad enough that he owns the gourmet restaurant next to yours, and that he’d attended GCAEA which caused more unwanted interactions with him.

“Yes him. From what I’ve heard, people say he’s a rising star, and that his newly established restaurant was getting a lot of good reviews.”

“It’s the restaurant next to mine, chef.”

“Ha! Seems like you’ve finally met your match, darling. Pretty sure that can apply romance-wise as well…”

“Why does everybody keep shipping us?” You wonder, subconsciously vocalizing your thoughts.

“You two look like you have his-…I think… you two would just look great together!”

“Ship? You know what ship means?” You look at him incredulously.

“It’s when you like the idea of two people together right? My daughter says it all time because of these Korean boys with bright hair – actually, when she knew I was going here to attend GCAEA as a guest she kept on nagging me to buy her albums and these sticks…”

“Sticks?”

“Yeah, the lightning ones?”

“Lightning?” You stifle a laugh. “You mean lightsticks, right?”

“Whatever they’re called, _______.” Frank Boucher gives you his infamous glare.

Nearly snorting at the sight of your mentor looking physically and mentally exhausted with trying to keep up with his fangirling daughter, you offer him another bottle because he seems like he needs it more than you do.

Your conversation falls into talking about your current lives and the stresses of running a restaurant, with Frank eventually leading the conversation about the person you’d least likely enjoy talking about. He tells you about your neighboring rival, how he’s done just as well with his own place like what you did with yours. He’s proud that both of his students had established their names in Korea’s gourmet society even at such a young age.

The clocks finally hits ten thirty and Frank takes this as his cue to get going.“Great! Your plane ticket and hotel booking has probably already been sent by my secretary to your email. The convention is only for three days, but the two extra days are on me. Take it as a gift for Canapé’s opening. Go enjoy yourself, _______”

Forcing another bright smile onto your face, you bid your goodbye to your mentor, locking the front door of your restaurant as he leaves.  Five days with Seokjin. May the gods have mercy on you.

The four-hour flight to the Philippines had been excruciatingly awkward. To say the least.

You hadn’t talked to each other for the most part. In fact, the only time you had interacted with each other was when you’d waken him up because you had already landed at the airport. The both of you had barely spoken to each other even on your way to the hotel. Occasionally he’d ask you questions that only warranted monosyllabic responses from you.

You’re glad that weariness passed as the only excuse for the lack of interaction. The moment you’d met up at the airport, fatigue had already been evident in both your faces, so your pair had ended up with alternating sleeping schedules during the length of your flight and up to the taxi ride to your hotel.

Only a few words were shared between you when you’ve finally arrived in front of your rooms – something along the lines of ‘good night’ and ‘see you tomorrow’. As you let sleep take over you that night, you pray that everything will go smoothly for the entirety of your stay.

“Lovely afternoon to all of you present here today at this year’s Asian Gourmet Conference!” Excited applause falls amongst the crowd, cheering on different countries, even though they screamed the most for Team Philippines. The host greets the audience and the participants one more time, before proceeding to the guidelines of the event.

“For the first challenge of our main event, we’d like the chefs to cook two staple dishes from their respective home countries – but with a twist! Our chefs will have to use Filipino ingredients only! This is where we put their creativity and talent to the test. To our chefs, please be reminded that we will be giving you an hour to prepare your fusion dishes. While you guys are cooking, I’ll be going around to interview almost fifty chefs who have come from all parts of the world just to join us today.”

You start brainstorming with Seokjin the moment the host leaves the stage. “You’ve been to the Philippines a few times right? You’ve tried some of their food?” your partner asks, turning to you. You’re surprised he even remembered…if you had recalled properly, you had only mentioned it once back in Paris that you did visit the Philippines on occasion.

“Um, yes…I’ve been here a couple of times,” you reply, racking your brain for any Korean dishes that might hold any similarity with Korean staples. “I only remember Sinigang, and Adobe…”

“I’m pretty sure they call it Adobo here Seokjin,” you make no attempt to suppress the giggle the escapes your lips as he mistakes computer software for food.

“But the challenge is only to make our home country’s staples with Philippine ingredients… so this shouldn’t be that big of a fusion problem since rice is also considered a vital part of their meals here…”

“You think good ‘ole Bibimbap will do? Pretty much all the ingredients are available here…What else could we have?” Seokjin asks, taking a notepad and a pen from his jacket. “We can have tteokbokki for the appetizer and bingsu for dessert.”

You get to cooking right after you and Seokjin agree on the ingredients you were going to use. Maybe working with Seokjin wasn’t so bad after all. Not even fifteen minutes into the competition, you see a few girls cheer Seokjin on, ceaselessly calling your partner “Seokjin oppa!” They screams only seem to spur Seokjin on, who’s now showing off his knife skills. You roll your eyes as you shake your head, crushing the garlic a little too hard against the board.

“Jealous much?” your partner asks. You can feel Seokjin smirking beside you.

“You wish, Kim Seokjin.”

“Whatever floats your boat, ________,” he sighs, “If only my partner could also send me words of encouragement rather than staying silent the whole time,” he mumbles to himself, thinking it wasn’t loud enough for you to hear.

“You and I both know this mouth is better at something else.” You turn to him, giving Seokjin a playful wink before setting the ingredients to the bibimbap on one side. He nearly drops the knife he’s holding at your comment, obviously scandalized by your innuendo.

Even with the time racing against you, everything was still going as planned, you just needed to hurry with the final parts of the dishes and you’d be able to beat the buzzer which was bound to ring in less than twenty minutes. That is until the salt container placed on top of this tall arrangement of pots topples over the shaved ice you’ve prepared for the bingsu. You see the ice melt before your eyes, and you quickly move to the container, removing some of the ice that was turning into water.

“Shit! Sorry ________!” He drops the pans he held in his arms onto the sink, scampering to your side afterwards. “Can I help –“

“No! I…It’s fine, Seokjin, just…just go back to whatever you were doing earlier. And please be careful next time.” Seokjin nods curtly, before going back to clean the pans. “______, why does it smell like something’s burning?”

“Fuck!” Cursing under your breath, you hurry towards the pot where the rice was cooking. As you remove the cover, the smell of burnt rice and a failed dish wafts through your nose, causing you to take a deep breath as you attempt to calm yourself down.

Reluctantly, you scoop out the rice that wasn’t burnt and place it onto the stone pot and start plating your bibimbap. Seokjin likewise helps you finish plating the tteokbokki and bingsu in silence.

Needless to say, your burnt rice didn’t make it through the first round. It didn’t mean that you were disqualified from the competition though, but in order to win the cash prize, you will have to make it through all three challenges of the event. That same evening as you take the cab back to the hotel, the despondence in the air is thicker than ever.

“See you tomorrow, ______.” Seokjin says, giving you a small smile as he stops in front of his door.

“Right. See you tomorrow, Seokjin. Sleep well.”

It’s ironic how it was you who actually needed that phrase and not Seokjin. You’ve watched the clock tick away, turned on the television for something to watch on the local news channels which were thankfully spoken in English, you had also resorted to Netflix on your phone, but all to no avail.

Admittedly, you had finished an Iced Americano in fifteen minutes earlier this morning but you figure it’s the entire ‘burnt rice’ accident that’s keeping you awake at this hour. Heaving a deep sigh, you lift the covers off your body, put on a hoodie and headed outside.

You pause by Seokjin’s door momentarily, with the strong urge to knock on his door and apologize for your lack of professionalism earlier this afternoon. Seokjin didn’t really mean to pour the salt over the ice at the event, and the way you reacted was unnecessarily rude.

Seokjin was probably asleep though, and you didn’t want to further embarrass yourself by waking him in the middle of the night. Retracting your hand that was merely inches away from his door, you turn on your heel and decide to apologize to him first thing in the morning tomorrow. Maybe even get him an extra something to show the depth of your regret and guilt.

After having asked the receptionist for directions towards the nearest convenience store, you’re suddenly regretting having worn shorts on your way out – the exposed skin of your legs prickling as the chilly evening air bites at it. Spotting 7-Eleven just across the street, you walk quickly towards the convenience store, desperate to feel warmth in this cold night.

The mellifluous sound of the bell echoes throughout the small store as you enter, that particular smell of convenience stores wafting through your senses. You decide to explore the shop a little, trying to look for something to eat.

Quite ironically, you’ve cooked nearly a thousand dishes in your lifetime, and having to cook another shouldn’t be that much of a burden but when your mind is swirling with thoughts just like tonight, you can’t seem to bring yourself to cook even the simplest dish – like it’s too great of a task to burden yourself with.

So during times like this, you turn to instant noodles, the ultimate lifesaver since your culinary school days. Hopefully no one from GCAEA or the AGC finds you like this, a dignified gourmet chef who’s starting to establish her name in the culinary field, crawling convenience stores in the middle of the night and slurping instant noodles away like it’s her last day on Earth.

You finally get to the noodles section, where you see a man in a hoodie, likewise skimming through the same aisle as you. The receptionist had told you to be wary of sketchy-looking people especially during the wee hours of the morning so you hurry with your own search as you look for a certain brand of cup noodles. Shin Ramyeon.

It should be here somewhere… As far as you’re concerned as a consumer, it’s being exported to over a hundred countries now so it must be here. Going over the entire aisle one last time, you finally see the red cup, reaching over the lone cup of Shin Ramyeon left on the shelf. The problem was, you weren’t the only one who was reaching for it.

Why do those fingers look insanely familiar?

Your eyes widen gradually as you slowly trail them up to see the owner of those hands. Of course, who else could it have been? You call out each other’s name at the same time.

“Seokjin.” “________.”

“You can have it.” You spoke in unison again.

“It’s fine really, you can have it. I’ll just look for another brand,” you tell him, handing over the cup with perfectly controlled reluctance.

“Would you mind if we shared, perhaps?” You stare at him, completely taken aback by his offer. “Or not…I mean- forget I even said that… Here take it.” He hands the cup to you and starts to leave.

“Jin! I- I don’t mind sharing.” Biting on his lip, he attempts to hide the smile that slowly etches into his face as he hears the nickname only you have for him. He turns to face you again. “Okay.” Seokjin gives you a smile, grabs the cup noodles from your grasp and orders you to look for seats while he pays for your shared midnight snack.  

Slowly, you trudge towards the limited number of seats they offer at the convenience store and find a spot by the windows. Seokjin arrives at your table a couple of minutes afterwards.

It was now or never. You owed Seokjin an apology after having rudely declined his offer of help during the event, even when the whole fiasco was just an accident. You figure if you don’t apologize for your unjust behavior, guilt is most likely going to eat at you for a very, very long time. Seokjin’s dejected yet still beautiful face will haunt you in your dreams.

As Seokjin busies himself with adding the ingredients onto the paper cup, you take this opportunity to speak up. “Jin,” you start, the nickname sending Seokjin’s heart into another frenzy. “About the bibimbap earlier, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, ________. It was my fault anyway. I should be the one apologizing right now, but…hold that thought for a moment…” He looks away, letting out a sneeze. “….it’s the powder seasoning, sorry… As I was saying, I’d also like to apologize about what happened earlier, I mean if I didn’t try to carry so much, the salt wouldn’t have toppled over.”

“Hey! I should be the one apologizing right now! Stop stealing my thunder!” You pout, begrudgingly taking the small carton of milk Seokjin bought to go with the ramen. You can’t say you aren’t pleasantly surprised at how he remembers this habit of yours too. For some reason, he remembers how you always have milk ready whenever you eat something spicy.

“Anyways… I also wanted to apologize for my rude behavior towards you back at the event. It was an accident, yet I reacted badly and declined your assistance. It was only after the event that I realized that we’re supposed to be helping each other, and not treating each other poorly.”

“Don’t worry yourself too much about it, ______. Besides, we still have two days to redeem ourselves right?” Seokjin sends a warm smile your way, one you cannot help but return.

“What else are you waiting for? The ramen is getting cold and lonely.”

“You sure you aren’t talking about yourself?”

“You know, I’m thinking maybe you should get your own instant noodles,” Seokjin comments, fingers curling around the paper cup.

“Okay, okay, geez.” Throwing your hands up in defense, you thank him for paying for the noodles and the milk before pulling your chopsticks apart and digging in. As you take your first bite, Seokjin suddenly speaks up.

“Is it just me, or I am really very anxious right now…what if someone might see us?”

“Last time I checked, there’s nothing wrong with eating inside a convenience store.”  

“No, no. But we’re like… owners…of restaurants…that serve gourmet food…yet here we are, at half past twelve in the morning, sharing cup noodles like it’s the last meal in the world due to a zombie apocalypse.”

“I get how you feel, but I don’t think we’d agree on the zombie apocalypse part…”

The conversation flows naturally between the both of you, like two friends casually catching up with each other’s lives. Seokjin was in the middle of talking when you hear the pitter-patter of rain outside. Tiny droplets of water slide down the glass panels, slowly turning into heavier ones.

You look at each other. “Should we?”

“We can wait this out if you’d like…” Seokjin proposes, though he isn’t so sure he wants to go with his offer either. The sudden downpour doesn’t seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. “Forget what I said, we should leave before this gets worse. Wait here.” Seokjin stands up,  goes through each aisle of the convenience store, and returns to where you’re seated. “Damn, they just ran out of umbrellas.”

“We could just run back the hotel…it’s just one crosswalk away.”

“You sure about that? What if you get sick?”

“Let’s just hope we won’t then.” Seokjin gives you a nod in approval. “Before we go out though,” he pulls his hoodie off his torso, giving you a slight show of his abdominals as he raises his hands. You abruptly look away, before nasty thoughts overcome you.

Placing his hoodie over both your heads, Seokjin peers down at you. “Ready when you are.” The quick sprint back to the hotel has you both screaming and laughing at the same time. You weren’t surprised that Seokjin’s hoodie barely served its purpose. You were both drenched from the neck down, attracting unwanted attention from people with your appearance.

With less than a few more steps before you reach your hotel rooms, you feel trepidation bubbling in the pit of your stomach. What’s going to happen now? Were you supposed to forget what happened between the two of you three years ago just like that? Was your midnight ramen run officially a clean slate?

Seokjin has his back facing you, the thin, white material of his shirt clinging sinfully to his skin. Every second spent with Seokjin was the best form of punishment in both ways “Are you going to sleep?” You don’t think that was going to happen anytime soon, now that you’re once again blessed with his visuals and perfectly sculpted body.

Seokjin turns to face you, waiting for your response. You shake your head no, eyes unabashedly staring at the outline of his six-pack. The man lets out a cough, drawing you out of your reverie. “Wanna keep warm for a bit and talk over hot chocolate?”

Why do you get the feeling it’s not just hot chocolate that’s going to keep you warm tonight?

“Sure.” Your voice comes out small, swallowing loudly as he unlocks the door to his room. 

The tension in the air is so thick that you’re actually having difficulty trying to breathe normally. Seokjin sets his wet hoodie on the floor before meeting your eyes, pupils already dilated. He momentarily holds his stare, eyes raking all over your equally drenched body. He points a finger sideways, “Hot chocolate.” Subconsciously chewing on your bottom lip, you nod, unable to form any coherent words in your head.

As he heads towards the kitchenette, you rub your face with your hands, before placing a hand over your chest. “Calm down, girl. It’s not like you’ve never seen abs before.” This is like Paris all over again, and you weigh the possible outcome of this situation. If you’re reading the signs right, Seokjin is clearly just affected as you are. Are you really willing to wear your heart out on your sleeve like this one more time? You rack your brain for answers, yet all it does is betray you with images of the rippling muscles underneath Seokjin’s shirt.

Ah, fuck it.

“Jin?” you call out as you reach the wall separating the kitchenette. Just as you peek through the divider, Seokjin rakes a hand through his temple, his hair now pushed back and forehead visible. You practically hear your resolve shattering into pieces.

Taking initiative, you close the distance between the both of you, connecting your lips with his in a feverish kiss. He tastes spicy – just like the ramen you’ve shared just minutes ago, but god, your favorite ramen and Seokjin’s lips; if that ain’t the hottest combination in the world – both literally, and figuratively.

You kiss Seokjin fervently like you’re going to crumble if his lips aren’t connected with yours. One hand of his raises to get rid of the scrunchie holding your hair up in a ponytail, and he lets his fingers card through your wet hair gently. The intensity of his kiss practically devours you, his hands grabbing hastily at your clothes. He’s itching to take them off your body, yet you feel the hesitation in his actions, waiting for that sign from you before he can do so as he pleases.

Pulling away to take a breather, you tug your hoodie up and off you, with Seokjin helping you with the task. "You don’t know how much I’ve longed for this, fuck." He seizes your mouth with his once more like a man starved.

Seokjin groans as he finally gets a view of the amount of lace you’re wearing underneath your hoodie. “I’d love to have you in your lingerie another time, but for now, let’s get you naked for me, hmm?” You’re barely allowed a second to fully comprehend his statement about lingerie and another time before Seokjin discards of the red lacy bra you have on and attaching his lips to one of your nipples.

Gasping at the sensation, you arch your back so that you’re practically pressing your chest against his face, greedily asking for more. Hooking a finger inside the waistband of your gym shorts, Seokjin easily tugs your shorts down along with your underwear.

He grabs you by the waist and lifts you up to the counter for his convenience. You shiver slightly when your ass comes in contact with the coldness of the marble. As if on instinct, your legs spread wider, seemingly inviting him to come closer to you.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that?”

“Mhmmm,” your words are muffled as you ardently kiss him. Seokjin brings his lips back to your breasts, biting and pulling at one while the other gets kneaded under his palm. Equally just as impatient as you are, Seokjin lets a hand trail in between your bodies, tentatively brushing against your core to gauge your reaction.

Your body quakes in anticipation, and Seokjin teases you even further by slowly rubbing the pad of his finger on your clit. “Jin, please,” you beseech. “Gotta prepare you first, baby girl.” Letting your head fall back at the sensation (and the pet name!), Seokjin decides to give you what you want, seeing as though you were wet enough that taking his cock right now won’t be a problem. He finally slides a finger inside, your body trembling at the intrusion. God, it’s been too long.

Okay, honestly speaking, you really didn’t take interest in another man when Seokjin entered your life three years ago, and now that you’re back here in this compromising situation with his finger sliding in and out of you languidly, you feel like you could just cum at the thought of it alone.

Seokjin adds another finger, continuing the pace. You moan wantonly as Seokjin curls his fingers, your velvety walls clenching around his digits. He can tell you’re getting close, but he knew it wasn’t enough.

Without having to slide his fingers out of you, Seokjin grabs at one of the chairs and pulls it towards himself so he can sit.

He hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you closer, merely centimeters away from your cunt. Your cheeks are set ablaze at his brazen action, opening your mouth to say something, falling speechless yet again as Seokjin’s lips come in contact with your nether lips. The man licks a bold stripe along the length of your folds, your hands instantly finding purchase on his hair as you’ve got nothing else to hold on to. He repeats the action all over again, this time adding his fingers to slide in and out of you and toy with your clit. A few more licks and a particular curl of his digits, Seokjin makes you cum for the first time again in three years, so hard that you’re body’s trembling even after he sets your legs down 

You’re breathing heavily, resting your forehead on Seokjin’s temple. “Mind taking a shower with me? It’s important to bathe after running the rain” Seokjin looks up at you, eyes pleading.

“I would, if I’m still able to walk.”

“Who said you were going to walk?” Seokjin maneuvers you on top of the counter, placing his hands under your knees and on your back, carrying you bridal style towards the bath. As soon as he settles you down onto the tub, he turns the faucet on and leaves you there for a moment, telling you that he was just going to grab something from his luggage.

You rest your head against the edge of the tub as you wait for Seokjin. You slowly feel exhaustion taking over you, but when you hear Seokjin’s muted footsteps against the carpeted floor, your eyes pry open only to see Seokjin in his boxers, holding a bath bomb in his palm. You gulp. This was going to be one hell of a night.

Just like before, Seokjin has you cumming thrice in the bath, once when he took you from underneath, making sure that the water fell perfectly on your clit for added stimulation as he slid his length in and out of you. He’d made you cum when you rode him as well, water sloshing everywhere at your naughty shenanigans in the bath. Even after two orgasms, Seokjin just won’t quit, having bent you over as you faced the wall, pounding you from behind.

Seokjin, with his libido seemingly running 24/7 tells you he wasn’t done with you just yet, saying he’s still got three years worth more of fucking to give you. He wanted to give you the most unforgettable sex of your life, and boy, was he adamant about it.

Seemingly not having had enough of you yet after helping you scrub almost the whole expanse of your skin, he finds himself getting hard again at the sight of you in just his shirt and nothing else.  You meant to sleep by that time, but as soon as Seokjin spooned you, you’d felt his clothed erection already grinding against your ass. You no longer kept count of how many times he made you cum.

The sunlight peeks through a tiny slit through the curtains, the heat perfectly hitting your face, causing you to wake up. Your body is sore all over, and as you roll to the other side while stretching out your limbs, you spot next to you empty.

Of course. You’re a fucking dumbass.

Hastily grabbing your clothes strewn across the floor, you head out of his room, tears already brimming in your eyes. Your vision is getting blurry by the second, and you angrily swipe at your cheeks as you feel a singular tear roll down. As you curse Seokjin under your breath, you bump into none other than the devil himself. “Oh! You’re awake?”

You don’t answer, stepping aside so you could go back to your room and rethink your life decisions.

“Where are you going, _______?”

“Out of your room, and hopefully out of your life as well.”

“Wait - ______! What are you talking about?” Seokjin extends his hand to grab your arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Seokjin.” The venom laced with your words makes him reel, retracting the arm he had held out to reach you. “I really never meant anything to you, hm? Fuck, I have probably reached desperation to return back into your arms that easily.”

“Desperation? That’s all it was last night? And the one three years ago?”

“I should be the one asking you that question!”

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? Are you really that fucking dense, Seokjin? You were the one who left me alone in the room that morning, and now you’ve done it again. Congratulations on having a new notch on your belt. And I’m a fucking fool for even thinking you felt otherwise!”

“You think I left you that morning?”

“I’m not done yet—what did you say?”

“You were the one who left that morning!”

“I did not! When I woke up, you weren’t there, nor were you anywhere inside your entire apartment! Do you know how embarrassing that was!” You pause, lips trembling, “F-For someone who actually meant something to you only seeing you as just some one-night stand?! Someone who you could use to get your dick wet?!”

“You like m-“

“You’re missing the entire point here, Kim Seokjin!”

“What’s happening here?” A raspy voice asks, the familiar mop of curly hair coming into view. Rafa?

“Oh my god! You like me, fuck! I could just kiss you right now!” Seokjin doesn’t even hesistate, already leaning towards your face and connecting your lips. You almost melt into his arms at the sensation, but you pull away just as instantly, tears freely rolling down. “Am I really just a joke to you, Jin? Have you ever even taken into consideration my feelings, even once?”

“______, darling. This is all a misunderstanding. Well, I did leave that morning, but I just went out to Rafa next door to shower. I—you looked so peaceful as you slept that I really didn’t want to bother waking you up to tell you that I can’t shower with cold water and it’s like déjà vu all of a sudden and…wait!” Seokjin drags poor Rafael who’s still looks like he’s half-asleep. “Rafa can verify the truth!”

Rafael sighs, once again caught in the middle of something he no longer wants to be a part of. “It’s true, ______. This guy’s pretty much in love with you. It’s just an unfortunate fact that this same guy has plenty of annoying habits that gets him in trouble most times. Just like not being able handle water that is below 26 degrees Celsius.”

You’re looking back and forth Seokjin and Rafa, trying to study their features if they’re being questionable or not. Finding no trace of mirth in their eyes, you turn to Seokjin. “You really didn’t leave me that morning and… today?”

“No. I could never. I’m a fucking dumbass for not thinking about what you could’ve felt that time and today…or telling you that I was just heading out to Rafa’s to shower because for some reason my heater isn’t always functioning…” 

“Glad to know you’ve finally acknowledged that you’re a bloody idiot.” Rafa speaks up, narrowing his eyes at Seokjin, taking a sip from his mug. Since when was that in his hands? Rafa sees you stare at his mug, and answers your silent question, “Was planning to drink this while it was hot earlier but I don’t see anything wrong with drinking cold coffee while watching a live action soap opera.”

“Funny how a night of fucking like wild rabbits can do so much to people,” Rafa adds, scoffing as he retreats back to his room. You lean your head towards Seokjin’s chest, embarrassed out of your wits. Seokjin puts an arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to him. “Don’t mind Rafa. He’s just jealous.”

“I can perfectly hear you, Kim Seokjin!”

© hhyungz 2020. All rights reserved.

[kats-baku1999]

Little Lies... Part Four

Warnings: angsty a little bit.

This is also a time jump!! So yeah enjoy :)

part one , part two , part three

Part five

——————————————————-

Working as a summer intern in college was one of the smarter choices that (Y/N) had made. It led to an actual job right out of college, and an easy way for her to help Kirishima pay the rent. The two of them walked through college together, after everything that had happened that night. It was the both of them against the word, or maybe just a bad case of codependency.

Bakugo and Kirishima weren’t together long, but they had chased each other in circles all of high school. The two had always been friends, but Bakugo was always more open than Kirishima. Everyone in school knew that Bakugo wasn’t interested in girls. Kirishima was always a little more nervous to be as open, but when he did finally come out their first year of high school.. Bakugo was the one who helped him through it. For hours on end Kirishima would practically make my ears bleed going on about Bakugo. When they had finally gotten together the summer before their last year of school, Kirishima was on cloud nine. It had taken years of a mutual crush for them to finally admit how they felt. They did it though, and it didn’t take much for Kirishima to believe that he was the one.

I couldn’t lie, I felt a lot of guilt that he had broken up with him because of me. Kirishima promised me that he didn’t blame me at all. He would always go on about how he couldn’t be with someone who would carelessly hurt his best friend. I figured once we moved into our first apartment in college, he would be able to get over Bakugo. I was poorly mistaken when his type became random blond haired boys he met in the bar. He would always treat them with respect, but then would ghost them. Not once committing.

“Anyways, I have to go, Mr. Takami wants me to meet with him about something,” I walked over to Kirishima and kissed his cheek, “Make sure you don't use my coffee for this one,”

Kirishima smiled at me, and blew me a small kiss as I walked out the front door. I walked through the apartment building as quickly as I could. The last thing I wanted was for this to be my first time being late. I had been working for Hawks Publishing Agency for about a year now. The owner Keigo Takami had taken me on as a summer intern my last year of college, and automatically offered me a job. I loved the job, and it was actually a fun place to work. I had actually ended up working with Kaminari, which was cool.

“Hey pretty lady!” Kaminari shouted, waving at the front steps. He had two coffees in his other hand, and of course that bright smile painted across his face.

“Good morning Kami,” I smiled, skipping up the steps towards him. I grabbed the other coffee and began taking a few sips from it. My hands were shaking a little bit, which of course he took notice of.

“Maybe you don’t need the caffeine boost this morning?” He laughed, opening the front door of the building for me. We walked inside, and I gave a small wave to the front desk girl. Mina was a sweet girl, and we had actually gone out together a few times. It turned out that she and Kirishima went to the same middle school.

“Hey, (y/n) Hawks is waiting for you in his office!” Mina smiled, and Kaminari walked over to the front desk to lean against it. He was more than likely going to either wait to flirt with Shinsou, or Jirou. Whatever mood he was in that day, and whatever one rejected him the slowest.

I walked over to the elevator and clicked the top floor. Don’t get me wrong I loved working for Mr. Takami, but he was probably the most over the top person I knew. He made it a point to completely renovate the top floor of this building, to make that his entire office. He also called it the Birds Nest. I think he bought one of the bigger offices on purpose too, just so he could have a higher up office. The elevator doors opened, and I walked down the hall a little bit to his office doors. I tapped on it two times, and it was swung open. I came face to face with Mr. Takami grinning at me like a mad man, and yanking me into his office.

“Uh, good morning sir!” I smiled, and he gave me a look before leaning against his desk.

“(Y/n) cut it out with the formalities, how many times do I have to tell you to just call me Hawks?” He sighed, smiling at me with a bright grin, and then handed me a manuscript… Correction, my manuscript.

“Sir, I mean uh Hawks, how did you even get this?” I blushed, looking at the title page. White Lies.

“Your friend Kirishima is a very passionate person, and practically stalked me until I had it in my hands,” Hawks laughed, “The real question is, you have been working for me for two years now, and didn’t tell me that you could write?”

“We usually don’t publish teen tragic love stories,” I laughed, “I mean sure you love romance stories, but you said that you wanted to really focus on the magazine and I-”

“You didn’t want to ask me for a favor did you kid?” Hawks smiled at me, and I slowly nodded my head, “(Y/N) if you tell anyone else this I will deny it, but I think you are probably one of my favorites that work here,”

“Oh, uh, thank you sir,” I blushed a little bit, “Still though I don’t want you to publish this story just because you favor me, the story really isn’t that good,”

“There is a lot of emotion and passion behind this story, it felt like you were coming from a place of knowing what this felt like,” Hawks explained, “You can ask my fiance I couldn’t put it down until I finished it, and I am very picky about what stories we put out,”

“What about the magazine though, I mean we are all focusing so hard on that right now trying to publish-”

“I will personally put together a team for this specific story, and all I will ask of you is that you make sure you claim this story,” Hawks tapped the manuscript in my hands, “My fiancé also informed me that this was definitely a personal experience,”

I froze up a little bit. Sure it was based on a personal experience. A girl falling for her least favorite person in school, all because he asked her to be his tutor. They ended up hanging out with each other more and more. Just when she thinks that they’re going to become something… She finds out she was nothing more than some game for him. What a tragic teenage love story, right?

“Uh, was it that obvious?” I blushed, a little embarrassed I had put so much of my personal emotions into the story. Hawks handed me a picture frame from his desk. He tapped the picture a little bit, and my mouth opened in shock. There he was, smiling with Touya Todoroki.

“You know, when I met Touya, he went by Dabi,” Hawks smiled at the picture, “And he was a real dick, and remained a dick for years to come, so I think the way you portrayed him in this story was perfect,”

I tensed up a little bit. It was obvious I made sure to make Touya seem like the biggest asshole ever. Then again that night I met him, he was.

“Sir, I am sorry, I was only writing what I knew about him-”

“Oh no he agreed that you described him pretty accurately,” Hawks laughed, “That was the night everything turned around for him, he hated what he did to Shoto, and he actually bonded with Shoto that night,”

I looked down at my feet a little bit. So he knew that this story was about his future brother-in-law. It had been years since I had heard Shoto’s name, and I couldn’t help but frown a little bit.

“Can I ask why you want to publish something that is slandering your fiancé’s brother?” I raised a small eyebrow, and Hawks shrugged his shoulder.

“Shoto was a spoiled brat back then, and you don’t use his name,” Hawks smiled at me, “Speaking of my fiancé, I am handing these out to everyone today, so here is yours,”

He handed me a wedding invitation. It was decorated with what looked like blue flames, and beautiful cursive lettering. The date was two weeks away, not a whole lot of notice. Then again, Hawks was never one to be on time.

“Oh, thank you sir!” I smiled, “Do you want me to take those down to everyone else?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, I have to start getting things together for your big story,” Hawks smiled, and I traded him the manuscript for the wedding invitations. I gave him a small nod.

“Before you publish anything, I want to think about this okay?” There was a lot I needed to go over, like checking with Kirishima, to see if it was okay that I wrote about him and Bakugo. Also Midoriya and Ochaco were involved too so I needed to double check with them.

“Not to give you some pesky deadline, but how about the night of my reception you give me an answer?” Hawks offered, and I nodded my head. Giving him a small wave and walking out of the office.

——————

I burst through the front door of the apartment. Kirishima was sitting on the couch watching TV, and jumped out the sound of our front door swinging open. I slammed it shut and ran over to the couch, grabbing a pillow. Smacking him with it continuously, he let out small screams trying to get me off of him without hurting me.

“(Y/n) get off you rabid animal!” Kirishima laughed, and I gave him one last smacked. I was panting slightly, glaring at him.

“How dare you turn in my manuscript, I let you read that for fun!” I smacked him again, and he ripped the pillow out of my hands.

“It was an amazing story, people deserve to read it, and I think you deserve to have your work put out there for once,” Kirishima took his turn smacking me with the pillow. I held up my hands in defense, glaring at him even more than before.

“I can’t just publish that, it’s personal, for me and you!” I stood up, and paced around the living room a little bit. Kirishima watched me, smiling a bit.

“I give you full permission to exploit Bakugo and I’s tragic love story, and I already talked to Midoriya he said he would not be upset at all if you published it,” Kirishima’s voice was a little softer, “(y/n) I know you wanted to act like that whole situation never bothered you, but after reading this it’s good to know you were hurting too,”

“Kirishima, it was never about me hurting, you-”

“Don’t, don’t write off your own feelings because you felt like you had to take care of me,” Kirishima smiled, standing up to grab me by my shoulders, “I love you (y/n), and I want you to be able to express your emotions, even if it’s been years,”

“Do you think it’s morally okay that I even write this story without his permission?” I frowned, “I mean yeah he was an asshole when we were younger, but it still brings up some personal things about his family,”

“Maybe you could reach out?” Kirishima suggested, “Ask him if he would be okay with it, and let him read it?”

“I don’t even know where I would-” I looked down at my purse that was holding the wedding invitation. The idea hit me, and I hated that I was going to have to ask Hawks for a favor like this.

—————-

I stared down at the phone number that was left scribbled on my desk’s notepad. Hawks was quick to leave that for me. I had just messaged him last night. This felt more personal than just hunting him down on social media. Which wouldn’t have been too hard considering he was some famous model or something now.

“Hey Kaminari, I am going to make a quick phone call. Can you watch my desk?” I smiled across at him, and he gave me a thumbs up.

I had gone down to the lobby, and walked outside. Sitting down on the front steps I stared down at the phone number now displayed on my screen. All I had to do was press the green button, and ask him if it would be okay for me to have a story published about him. Surely that would be fine, considering his name was not used at all. I also made sure no one could connect the dots back to his father either.

“(Y/n)?” I froze up at the sound of a familiar voice. My eyes slowly went up, and I began mentally screaming. What are the chances that he would be here? Now? I quickly shot up to my feet.

“Bakugo?” I questioned, and he just nodded. Smiling at me a little bit.

“Long time no see, weird running into you here?” Bakugo smiled awkwardly. He seemed a little uncomfortable by the entire situation. Which was fair, because I was definitely feeling awkward myself now.

“I actually work here,” I looked him up and down, sliding my phone into my back pocket.

“You work for half and half’s brother in law?” Bakugo looked a little shocked, and I just nodded my head. We both stared at each other, and down at our feet.

“Why don’t you just ask about him you big jerk?” I sighed, rolling my eyes. I knew he was wondering about Kirishima.

“How’s he doing?” Bakugo was quiet about it, and I could tell by the look in his eyes he still thought about him just as much as Kirishima thought about him.

“He is okay, he works as a trainer at a pretty big gym some days, but his main job is physical therapy at a hospital,” I smiled at Bakugo, “And for what you are really curious about, he is still single,”

“I, I wasn’t even going to-”

“I know you weren’t, but I know you were curious about it,” I pulled out my phone to give him Kirishima’s phone number, to help them both out. When I looked at my phone screen though I felt my heart stop for a second. I hadn’t locked it before placing it in my pocket. Which then led to that stupid green button being pressed. I held the phone up to my ear.

“Hello?” I mumbled, and could hear someone’s breath hitch on the other line. Bakugo was staring at me with a confused look, but also a little worried. Judging by how my body felt right now, I am sure I was as pale as a ghost.

“(Y/n)?”

———— that night

I threw back another shot, groaning again. Bakugo and Kirishima were awkwardly sitting across from me. Neither one of them was talking about themselves personally, both of them were just focused on me. After I heard Todoroki’s voice, I panicked a little bit. Maybe a lot. Bakugo had to help me inside the building, trying his best to calm me down. He wasn’t pleased to see Kaminari, but the two of them worked together to get me to calm down. Which led to them having to call Kirishima… Which then led to Bakugo and Kirishima reconnecting.

“And she just hung up?” Kirishima asked for about the fifth time, watching me grab another shot.

“Yup,” Bakugo nodded, an impressed look painted across his face as he watched me throw back the fourth shot of the night.

“Did he get a hold of you?” Kiri asked Bakugo, and the blond nodded his head.

“He will be here in about fifteen minutes,” Bakugo sighed, and I let out another groan. Reaching for the last shot on the tray, but Kirishima grabbed it before I could. I sent him a dirty look, and he just shook his head. Taking the shot himself.

“I didn’t think I would have to see him already,” I whined, feeling a little drunk, okay correction a lot drunk. Bakugo and Kirishima both just kept watching me, Kiri reaching across to pat my hand.

“You’re at least a little intoxicated now, that should make it easier, right?” Kirishima offered a solution, and Bakugo and I shook our heads at the same time.

“I wouldn’t want to be drunk seeing you for the first time in years,” Bakugo offered, and I pointed a finger his way, as a way to say “ya see”.

“You make a fair point, but still, this should make it easier!” Kirishima grinned positively, “I mean after all high school doesn’t matter anymore right?”

Bakugo tensed up noticeably at Kirishima’s words. I gave him a sad look. Mouthing a quick “I’m sorry” his way. He just nodded his head, before looking towards the door. Everyone clearly took notice of whoever it was that just walked in. I could tell by all whispering that seemed to spread throughout the bar. I turned my head towards the entrance, and felt my breath hitch in my throat. My memories instantly flying back to the last day of our third year.

———

“Okay, you got me here, what do you need to say?” I whispered, staring him straight in the eye. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me still hurting over everything that happened at the beginning of the year. I absolutely refused to.

“I think I was starting to fall in love with you,” Todoroki whispered, not making full eye contact, just glancing at me before looking back down at his feet, “Maybe it’s crazy for me to believe, but I think in someway we are meant for each other, I feel so at peace with you (Y/n), and I promise you one day I will get you to forgive me,”

“Todoroki, you’re chasing after an empty dream, I want nothing to do with you,” I sighed, turning around to walk away. My feet moving quickly so he wouldn’t see the tears falling from my eyes. I think in some way I was falling for him too. All of the laughter, those few intimate moments.. They all meant so much to me, but they were nothing but a lie.

————

“Well, if it isn’t half and half himself,” Bakugo smiled, as all three of us stared up at the taller guy. He was looking straight at me, not even paying any mind to his best friend. His bicolored eyes scanned over my face.

“Uh,” I stammered not sure how to react to his prying and eyes, “Good to see you again Todoroki,”

Kirishima shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, so did Bakugo. Both of them trading looks, before looking back at me. He still hadn’t spoken a word, just continued staring at me. After what felt like months, he finally let out a sigh. Smiling at us all brightly.

“I figured I wouldn’t be seeing you guys until Ochaco and Midoriya’s wedding,” He grinned, taking a seat in the empty one next to me.

“Oh yeah, that is coming up soon isn’t it?” Kirishima smiled. Overtime we grew apart from Ochaco, so although we weren’t in the wedding she still wanted us there. Bakugo and Todoroki were still close with Midoriya, he had eventually forgiven them after everything that happened, so they were in the wedding.

“My brother’s wedding is right before theirs, so I figured I should stay in town for an extended amount of time,” Todoroki sighed, he sounded so formal now, it was a little strange.

“Bout time you came back around, Hawks was really starting to piss me off asking me a shit ton of questions about you,” Bakugo laughed, taking a drink, “Miss (y/l/n) over here is working for the bird man now,”

“Touya actually mentioned that to me when we talked on the phone,” Todoroki looked back towards me again, “And that you had a pretty great story to talk to me about?”

My breath hitched. So we were going to do this now? I figured I would have a little more time. To get myself warmed up to the idea of talking to him. Apparently I wouldn’t get that luxury.

“It’s actually based on everything that happened in our last year of school,” I mumbled, and Todoroki tensed up a little bit. His face stayed soft though, he didn’t look angry, “I would like for you to have the chance to read it before I do anything with it,”

“I wouldn’t mind, if you don’t?” Todoroki questioned, and I just nodded my head. Kirishima and Bakugo shared a look before both of them stood up.

“Hey, Todoroki do you mind making sure (Y/n) gets home?” Kirishima looked towards Todoroki, “I am going to go to Bakugo’s apartment for tonight so we can catch up,”

I looked at my best friend in shock, wanting to protest.

“Yeah, it’ll give me a chance to read over your manuscript?” Todoroki suggested, and I just nodded. If Kirishima ever asked me to do his laundry again, I would remind him of this moment.

“Text me when you make it back to Bakugo’s I guess,” I sighed, standing up from my seat, “I’m ready to go if you are?”

Todoroki nodded, walking up to the bar. He left money on the table, and placed his hand on the small of my back. Leading me out of the bar. Kirishima and Bakugo followed us closely. Bakugo walked to his car, and Kirishima paused for a second. He gave me a quick hug, and a kiss on the cheek.

“Behave yourself,” I smirked at him, and he just rolled his eyes. Walking away from me grinning. Bakugo opened his door for him, and gave a small wave to Todoroki and I.

“You behave too!” Kirishima yelled before getting into the car. I blushed a little bit before looking towards Todoroki.

“Well, we can head out?” Todoroki suggested and I just nodded my head. Walking over to his passenger side door.

This was going to be something.

[starrybethany]

I’m Sure - Adam Boqvist Imagine Part 1

Word count: 3.3K

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

I heard about Adam before I met him. The guys had hung around my office, claiming they wanted to catch up with me, but I really know it’s just because they want to gossip. Hockey players are like that. We were catching up on how their summers went.

“Hey, did you see who was drafted, Y/N?” Dylan asks, wandering around the small room and staring at various objects.

“Nope,” I pop the ‘p’, scanning over the email recently sent to me. “Who was it?”

“This Swedish kids with sick hands,” Alex gushes.

“Really? Is he gonna be the next Patty Kane?”

“Please, like anyone could be like Showtime,” he scoffs.

Dylan pulled up some videos of his highlights, showing them to me.

I nod in approval. “Looks like hockey.”

They give me unamused looks.

We’ve had this talk plenty of times- they think that since I work at the United Center, I should understand hockey more, I think that since I work for United Center and not for the Blackhawks, it really doesn’t matter.

Adam had spent that season in London with the Knights. I had heard about him sprinkled into conversations here and there but really, I just focused on my work as being the suites advisor and making sure everything went smoothly. It was a great year for bookings, and apparently a great year for him.

Alex tried explaining the kid’s talent to me when we were on a double date with our partners, but I still couldn’t understand hockey that well, so I just smiled and nodded. He let that slip by.

It wasn’t until he was here in Chicago that I got it.

For some reason I had been down at the rink, watching practice take place. He had spent a few weeks with the Hawks- weeks that I had taken off to take care of my boyfriend after his knee surgery- and was sent down to Rockford almost as soon as I had returned.

The boys were really upset that I hadn’t met their new friend, Kirby especially, who was a new addition to our group almost as soon as Dominik introduced him to me.

But then there he was, back on the ice. I squinted my eyes, not remembering a ‘27’ on the team. The last name clicks, and I watch as he flies around on the ice, joking with the guys and passing the puck skillfully.

I got it. I understood then why the boys thought he was so talented and why he was back in the NHL at the mere age of nineteen. He played with confidence and speed, a conscious defenseman- something the boys tell me they’ve been struggling with.

Then I un-got it.

Alex had invited a couple of us over for drinks one night and my boyfriend, as he did often, accompanied me.

“Oh, you guys haven’t met yet,” Alex comments, pouring glasses of wine for all of us. “Y/N, this is Adam, the defenseman we’ve been telling you about. Adam, this is Y/N, she works as a suites advisor for the UC.”

“Nice to meet you,” I reach out, shaking his hand. I thought he was attractive, I won’t lie. From the detailed tattoos to the messy hair, he was just my type. But my boyfriend was sitting right next to me, so that was a line I didn’t want to cross.

It didn’t matter to Adam, though. He winked at me as we shook hands, which I found distasteful, but allowed myself to send him a tight-lipped smile.

“And this is my boyfriend, Steven,” I emphasis, resting my hand on Steven’s thigh.

“Oh yeah,” Alex mutters.

Alex always tended to forget about Steven. In fact, everyone seemed to forget about Steven.

“So, suites’ advisor?” Adam questions, ignoring the man sitting next to me. I could feel my boyfriend freeze up at the clear dismissal.

“Yep.”

“What do you do? Just say hello to all of the rich investors?” By the smirk on his face and the small sip of wine, I can tell the dig is intentional.

He knows there is much more that goes into this job than that, so I don’t know why he’s trying to get under my skin. Especially when we just met.

“Um, no, actually, I schedule who books suites for when, what suites are available, who caters what suite. A lot goes into it, actually,” I send him a fake smile.

His smirk just widens, digging under my skin even more.

Steven and I had left early that night.

~

I ungot it again at the family skate. I’ve never learned how to skate- the guys tried to teach me, but I get frustrated easily so they stopped attempting. I’m stumbling around on the ice by myself, the boys stopping by once and a while to check on me but quickly rushing off to be with their significant others. Steven has work today and we had an argument a few days ago, so I didn’t even bother inviting him to the family skate.

A hard body runs into me from behind, causing me to become unbalanced and hit the boards, catching myself before I fall right onto the ice.

“Ow,” I turn around to glare at the person who pushed me, narrowing my eyes even more when I see the familiar blonde boy and the smirk that he’s always wearing. “What’s your problem, dude?”

“What do you mean?” His accent is thick with his words, making my stomach flutter but the irritation replaces the fluttering quickly.

“You’ve just been rude to me for no reason. What’s up with that?”

He gives me a surprised look, like he didn’t expect me to confront him on it. But I don’t know why he would think that- if you’re going to be a dick, I have a right to call you out on it.

He scoffs quickly, an annoyed expression quickly replacing his surprised one. “You’re overthinking everything.”

I watch as he skates away in annoyance, Kirby replacing his spot next to me.

“You two are close, right?” I question.

He nods.

“Why does he hate me so much?”

He laughs at that and I’m the one who’s shocked now. “Isn’t it obvious? He likes you.”

I give him an unimpressed look. “You’re saying he’s acting like an asshole because he likes me?”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was logical,” he puts his hands up in defense, skating away.

I’ve always thought that was ridiculous. If you like someone, just tell them. And if you don’t, just avoid them. There is no reason that meanness is needed, especially if it’s because you really like that person.

I try to avoid Adam after that.

~

It doesn’t last long. About a week of avoiding him goes by before I find myself out at a bar with him and a few other players. I had just broken up with Steven, discovering that I no longer did my ‘in love’ giggle with him or smiled when I saw his name pop up on my phone.

But just because I fell out of love with him didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. It hurt. It really hurt. So that’s how I found myself one, two, three, four drinks in at the bar, too drunk to remember what I was saying and too drunk to care about how I might feel the next day.

I went on the dance floor to blow off some steam, swaying along to pop songs and screaming the lyrics.

Arms wind around my waist and I look down at them, spotting a familiar sleeve. I turn around in his arms, careful to not move my hands. I’m worried of what I might do if that happens- even though Steven and I had just broken up, I’ve been touch-deprived for weeks.

“What are you doing, Adam?” I question, leaning closer so that he can hear me.

“You’re single now, right?”

“Yes, but did I give you permission to touch me?” I raise my eyebrows.

He takes a step back with amusement, raising his arms defensively to show me that he’s respecting my boundaries.

Then I can’t help but think: fuck it. After being in a committed relationship for years, why not mess around with some guy I have intense sexual chemistry with? He’s hot, he’s sexy, sure he’s an asshole but I’m sure that confidence would do wonders in bed.

So, I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and tangling in his blonde locks as I pull him as close to me as he can get. One of his hands rests on my ass while the other rests on my hip, tugging me closer and closer to him.

He’s staying with Alex and Lyndsey, so we end up at my apartment in my bedroom. And when I wake up in the morning, I don’t regret it.

I regret it when I go to work the next day. He gives me a knowing look every time he passes me in the hall and even Kirby sends me a look or two.

It happens for a couple more days until one day he finds himself in my office with Dylan and Alex Nylander, another young rookie.

I’d been struggling with work all day, people bitching at me on the phone and numbers not adding up so all I really wanted was to finish the last hour of work and go home.

Then Adam gives me a look.

“What’s your problem?” I snap.

He gives me a confused expression, causing me to elaborate. “We slept with each other once and now you think you know so much about me? Do you think you can hold this over my head or something?”

Dylan chokes on his spit and Alex stifles his laughter, Adam flustering with words.

I organize a stack of papers on my desk, not even bothering to make eye contact with any of them. “I think it’s best if you three leave.”

They respect my wishes. An hour later I lock my door with a deep sigh, turning to make my way towards the parking lot. A body pushes me up against my door suddenly, causing me to gasp and dart my eyes up to see who my attacker is.

My eyes meet familiar blue ones and my body relaxes at the sight, then freezes up again when I realize I’m stuck in between his arms.

“You know, I didn’t really like that stunt you pulled earlier,” Adam breathes out, breath fanning over my face. His head leans down and he nibbles at the skin on my neck teasingly.

I hold back a moan at the action. “You didn’t?”

“No,” he bites down a little bit harder, causing me to wince. “I think you’re going to have to be punished for that.”

“You think so?” I whisper out.

“I think so.”

“Then I think we should get started on this now, don’t you think?”

“I agree.”

~

And that’s how I began sleeping with Adam Boqvist. Neither of us are looking for anything serious- I want to live the single life after being in a committed relationship for so long and he wants to enjoy his single, youth years in the great city of Chicago.

Plus, he would be the last person I would date.

He’s cocky, selfish, obnoxious, loud- I could keep going.

But either way, the relationship between us, or whatever you want to call it, isn’t end game. He isn’t the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. He’s not the one I want to raise children with or sit with on rocking chairs on the porch.

He’s just a guy I want to have sex with until I find the right person for me.

So, tell me why I’m sitting in my shitty apartment bathroom with two pregnancy tests sitting on the small basin of the sink.

I crisscross my legs on the toilet, fiddling with my fingers anxiously. They have to be negative. They have to be.

I can’t have a child right now. I want to focus on my career and build my reputation in the field. I don’t want to have a baby just a couple years into starting this job. I can’t afford a baby anyways; Chicago is an insanely expensive city and I can barely afford to live by myself.

Hell, I live in a loft.

Besides, I can’t be connected to Adam for the rest of my life. I can hardly stand the guy as it is.

As the minutes slowly pass by, I convince myself that I’m not actually pregnant. The ache in my ankles and lower back are due to stress from work and the vomiting is because my eating habits haven’t been as consistent as they usually are.

I’m just going to completely ignore the fact that I let Adam have sex with me without a condom while I was off my birth control for a while due to the weird side effects it was giving me.

It’s like I’m watching from outside of my own body as I reach forward, grabbing the sticks and holding one in each hand.

Positive. Positive.

My heartbeat fastens and I can feel my breath getting shallow. I try to focus my breathing, counting to four over and over and it slowly helps.

My eyes open back up as I ground myself and I can’t help but just stare at the sticks, switching between the two. I’m pregnant. I’m having Adam Boqvist’s baby.

~

I really didn’t prepare myself for the next time that I’d see him. I’ve already prepared myself to deal with this on my own- whichever way I decide to do that. I haven’t really decided that yet either.

“Hey,” he grins at me as he enters my office, shutting the door behind him. “I have about ten minutes before Kirby starts to look for me, let’s have a quickie.”

“No, Adam,” I sigh, swallowing the lump in my throat. The words are just begging to come out. I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a dad.

“Why not? Is it because we’re at work? We’ve done it in your office before,” he protests.

I set the pen down next to the pad of paper gently, crossing my hands on the top of the desk and turning to focus him with a serious expression. His mischievous grin fades when he notices that I’m not in the playful or teasing mood that I’m usually in when I see him.

“What’s up?” He questions.

“Adam, I’m pregnant.”

His reaction is not one I expect. His face turns to one of confusion, like he’s genuinely unsure why I would be telling him this.

“Congratulations?” He says it more like a question.

My eyes narrow into a glare at the word. He doesn’t believe that it’s his child. I feel hurt, disrespected, and angry. Who does he think I am, the type of girl who has unprotected sex with everyone who walks?

Not that there’s anything wrong with those girls, more power to them, it’s just- he knows me. We’ve been in each other’s beds most of the time for the past couple of months. I spend practically every night with him, and he has the nerve to doubt paternity?

“It’s yours, idiot.” I can’t help but let that dig slide.

“Well how do you know that?”

“Because if I’m not working, I’m having sex with you,” I say slowly, like I have to spell it out for him.

“Well how do you know it’s not- uh- what’s that guy’s name- Steven’s kid?” Adam inquires, his eyes showing that he’s searching hard for an excuse to not take responsibility.

I scoff, leaning back in my chair. “Whatever, Adam, I don’t care if you believe me. I’m going to figure it out.”

“You better.” And by the way he says it, I know what he wants me to do. I know that he doesn’t want to be a father- although actions do have consequences, there is a reason that abortion and adoption are options.

I can also tell that now he knows for sure that he is the father. And he sure as hell doesn’t want to be the father.

~

I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s just scheduling an appointment- I can always cancel or reschedule.

But my finger rests over the call button for a long time, ‘Planned Parenthood’ looking up at me, mocking me, taunting me.

Do you want an abortion or not? Do you want to be a mother or not? Do you want to go through this pregnancy or not?

There are so many questions flashing through my head. Quite frankly, I don’t know what I want to do. I have no one to turn to- as much as I love the team, I don’t want to cause a rift between them and Adam, and I don’t want to think that we’re closer than we actually are.

I cut out my family years ago.

My friends are all party girls, they wouldn’t know the first thing about a baby if it hit them.

Everything is telling me that I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t want to raise a baby on my own, I shouldn’t want to be a single mother.

But why do I so desperately yearn for it? Why did I feel joy when I looked at those sticks and why do I get excited at the thought of little footsteps running around on hardwood floors?

I press the call button.

It gets two rings in before I end it, knowing I’ve made my choice despite all odds.

I need to keep this baby. I know Adam won’t be there for me, but he doesn’t need to be. All this baby needs is to feel love and support and it’ll get that from me and me alone. I need to start fresh, though, to make sure that I’m the best mom that I can be.

~

“I can’t believe you quit, just like that,” Alex states with a disappointed tone.

I told the guys I quit because I want a change in scenery. That’s not a lie, I’m excited to be moving to the beautiful state of Colorado to start new. But I also hid the news about the baby. They don’t follow me on social media, so they’ll never know- unless Adam says something to them about it. But I doubt he will.

“We’ll miss you,” Dylan adds.

“I’ll miss you guys too,” I respond, closing the cardboard box containing all of my office supplies. Picture frames, pens, cool knick-knacks. All packed into a box ready to be shipped to the mountain zone.

“Hey Adam, Y/N was just getting ready to say goodbye,” Alex says, making me look up from taping up the box with wide eyes.

Sure enough, the blonde is leaning in the doorway, looking unsure for the first time since I’ve met him. It’s weird to see him so hesitant. It’s not him.

But I also don’t feel bad for him. A real dad would step up and want to be there for their kid. A good dad would do that. But clearly, and unfortunately, I was right. Adam Boqvist is and always will be selfish.

I say my goodbyes to Alex and Dylan, the box in one arm while I lock the office with the other hand.

“You’re really leaving?”

“Let’s just get this over with, Adam,” I start, turning to him. He winces when I look him in the eye, seeing all of the resentment and anger I feel towards him. “I’m keeping the baby. I’m raising the baby on my own. Don’t worry, I won’t put you down on the birth certificate. You’ll never see us again.”

His mouth opens then closes. “Are you sure?”

I scoff at the question, shaking my head in disbelief. I go to push past him. “Oh, trust me, I’m sure.”