#and then stands proud before the car and then gives a tiny little wave to the grandstands.....

[blamemma]

daniel ricciardo climbing into his car during a seat fit in the 2023 season | 📹

[pucksandpower]

Pollinated

Day 11 → Sex Pollen 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content and dubious consent

Kinktober Masterlist

“You’ve got a stack waiting for you.” Alan leans on the edge of your desk, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He’s holding a bundle of envelopes, some thick with scribbled messages, some thin and printed with clean, crisp fonts.

Your PR officer’s eyebrows raise in mock exasperation as he shakes them at you. “How do you even have time to race with all these fans wanting a piece of you?”

You grin, setting down your coffee and wiping your hands on your pants. “That’s the problem of being so popular, Alan. It’s a curse, really.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s a real burden. Everyone loving you.”

“Someone’s gotta do it.”

He drops the stack in front of you with a soft thud. “Take your time. I’ll be back in a bit.” His tone is teasing, but you catch the flicker of something more serious underneath, like he’s reminding you there’s more work to be done after this.

You roll your eyes as he walks off. You love this part of your day — the letters, the drawings, the fan art from kids who see something in you that makes them believe they can be here too. They’re always so personal, full of energy, like they’re rooting for you from their living rooms or school desks.

You flick through the pile, reading the familiar opening lines. Dear Y/N, you’re such an inspiration or I love watching you race! Your heart lifts as you come across a brightly colored drawing from a girl named Chloe, of you standing on a podium, arms raised in victory. It makes you smile so wide your cheeks hurt a little. You can practically hear the little girl’s voice, excitedly telling her parents, “That’s gonna be me one day.”

“This is what it’s about,” you mutter under your breath, running your fingers over the crayon marks.

More letters. More words of encouragement. A scribbled note from a group of university students who drove twelve hours just to see you race last season. A letter from an older woman who says she’s been watching F1 since her husband introduced her to it in the ‘70s and how proud she is to see a woman making waves. You pause at that one, your chest swelling. You’ll have to write her back.

You reach for the next envelope, a bit plainer than the others. No stickers, no hand-drawn doodles in the margins. It’s simple, just your name written on the front in neat black ink. Your gut tugs slightly, but you brush it off. Not every fan is an artist.

You open it, pulling out a card with a printed picture of a car on the front. Your car. You smile, flipping it open to read the message inside.

But your smile fades as you start to read.

You don’t belong here.

The words are bold, black, and stark against the white paper. They stand out like a punch to the gut, each line colder and more hateful than the last. The handwriting is meticulous, like whoever wrote it wanted to be sure you’d understand every word.

Women like you are ruining the sport.

Your throat tightens. Your fingers grip the edges of the card a little harder than before, the edges bending under the pressure.

Go back to doing what you’re good at: nothing.

You try to swallow, but it feels like there’s a knot lodged in your throat. It’s not the first time you’ve seen something like this. Hell, it’s not even the worst thing anyone’s said. But right now, it’s too sharp, too specific, too venomous.

You reach up to close the card, your hand trembling slightly. But before you can fully shut it, something catches your eye — a tiny puff of fine yellow powder shoots from the fold, drifting into the air in front of you.

“What the-” You blink, confused for a split second.

Then, it hits.

A burning sensation spreads through your throat and nose. Your skin tingles, a wave of heat rushing over your face. You gasp, trying to catch your breath, but it feels like you’re inhaling fire. Panic spikes as your vision blurs.

“Alan!” The name barely makes it past your lips before you feel your legs give way beneath you.

“Alan!” You try again, but it comes out weaker this time. Your limbs feel heavy, your chest tight, and the room starts to spin in slow, nauseating circles.

Footsteps pound across the floor. Alan’s voice sounds far away, muffled, like he’s underwater. You catch a glimpse of him sprinting toward you, his face pale, eyes wide. “Y/N?”

Your body jerks uncontrollably, a violent shudder running through you. The room twists, everything turning hazy as you hit the floor hard, your fingers twitching against the cool tile.

“What the hell — Y/N!” Alan’s panic is sharp now, cutting through the fog. You can barely see him through the haze clouding your vision, but you feel him grab your shoulders, shaking you gently.

“Stay with me. Just stay with me, okay?” His voice cracks, fear bleeding through the edges.

Your entire body seizes again, every muscle clamping down painfully. A sharp cry escapes your throat as the convulsions take over, uncontrollable now.

“Help! Somebody, help!” Alan’s voice is frantic, desperate, echoing through the room as the world starts to fade. His hands are on your face now, trying to keep you conscious. You feel his fingers trembling against your skin, hear the panic rising in his voice as he keeps shouting for help.

But you’re slipping, sinking deeper into the darkness as the convulsions wrack your body. You can’t speak. You can’t move.

Alan’s voice is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

***

The world returns slowly, like surfacing from a deep dive. There’s a ringing in your ears, muffled voices blending into the constant hum of machinery. Your body feels like it’s on fire — each nerve sizzling under your skin, radiating heat. You try to move, but it’s as if you’re bound by weights. The sheets beneath you cling to your body, too warm, too tight, too much.

Someone’s talking nearby, but it’s distant, warped. You can’t make out the words yet. Everything feels heavy — your eyelids, your chest, even your breathing. Your mouth is dry, your tongue like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth.

Slowly, the fog begins to clear, and you catch fragments of conversation.

“… highly illegal substance …” A voice, crisp and professional, filters through. The doctor. “… extreme toxicity … very few cases on record …”

You try to focus, but the burning sensation inside you only intensifies. It’s everywhere — your limbs, your core, your mind. Like you’re being torn apart from the inside out.

You manage a groan, the sound barely escaping your lips.

“She’s waking up,” someone says, closer now. Alan? It sounds like him, but there’s a hitch in his usually confident voice. Panic.

Your eyelids flutter open, and the room comes into blurry focus. Harsh fluorescent lights. Sterile white walls. The sterile smell of antiseptic clogs your senses, a sharp contrast to the heat still coursing through you. You blink slowly, your vision sharpening enough to see Alan standing by your bedside, pale and jittery, his hand running through his hair in nervous strokes.

Across from him is the doctor, his white coat stiff and immaculate. He’s holding a clipboard, and his face is a mask of concern. When he speaks, it feels like each word takes a lifetime to process.

“… the substance she was exposed to … it’s not just any powder,” the doctor is saying, his voice measured but grim. “It’s a synthetic pollen derivative, known as Lust Dust on the black market.”

Lust Dust. The words sink into you, but you don’t recognize them. Your throat feels too tight to ask for clarification. Alan, however, doesn’t hesitate.

“What does that mean? What the hell is that?” Alan’s voice is raw, frayed at the edges.

The doctor sighs, flipping through the notes on his clipboard before answering. “It’s an extremely illegal bio-weapon, developed underground. It was used in several isolated attacks a few years ago, mostly in war zones. The symptoms … well, they’re brutal.”

You don’t like the sound of this. Brutal. Illegal. Bio-weapon. The words swirl around in your head, each one setting off alarm bells, but you can barely move enough to react. You just lie there, heat pulsing through you, your body screaming in agony.

“The pollen attacks the body’s nervous system,” the doctor continues, his tone clinical. “It acts as a stimulant, targeting primal instincts, heightening … certain responses. The most dangerous part is that, if untreated, the body will burn out within hours.”

“Burn out?” Alan echoes, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What does that mean? You mean … she’ll die?”

“Yes,” the doctor replies, his tone darkening. “In most cases, without intervention, the victim’s body will shut down. It’s a highly sexualized toxin. The only way to counteract the effects is through physical release.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. The words hover in the air, sinking into the room with a weight you can almost feel. Your heart races, your mind struggling to comprehend what’s being said. Physical release? The burning sensation in your body intensifies, like it’s reacting to the very idea of what the doctor’s suggesting.

Alan’s face pales further, his hand gripping the back of his neck in horror. “Wait, are you — are you saying she has to-”

“Sex,” the doctor says bluntly, not sugar-coating anything. “Yes. If she doesn’t have sex soon, she will die. The sooner, the better, to mitigate the damage the pollen’s already caused.”

A cold sweat breaks out across your skin, despite the unbearable heat raging inside you. The fire in your veins is consuming everything, twisting the doctor’s words into cruel irony. This can’t be happening. Not this.

“I … I …“ Alan stammers, clearly at a loss, his eyes flicking to you, desperate and terrified. “There’s got to be another way. Medicine? A procedure? Something?”

The doctor shakes his head. “There’s no antidote. The only option is the one I’ve given you.”

You want to scream. You want to cry. But you can’t do anything except lie there, burning from the inside out, unable to stop the panic surging through you as the realization sinks in.

Alan takes a shaky breath. “What … what do we do now?”

The doctor straightens, his voice calm but commanding. “The most important thing is finding someone who’s willing to … assist.”

Alan’s eyes widen in horror, but before he can say anything, the door bursts open and several members of your team file into the room — engineers, mechanics, staff. Their faces are tight with concern, and they crowd into the small space, murmuring amongst themselves.

“What happened?” Someone asks, their voice tense.

Alan quickly explains, his voice shaking as he goes over the details. The pollen. The bio-weapon. The need for “intervention.” Every word makes your heart pound harder, and you can feel the collective shock ripple through the room as the reality of the situation sets in.

“She needs someone,” Alan says, his voice thick with emotion. “She needs someone to …”

He can’t even finish the sentence.

The room falls into stunned silence. You can hear the soft hum of the machines around you, the ragged breathing of the people in the room. It feels like time has stopped, the weight of the situation pressing down on everyone.

Then, the whispers start.

“I’ll do it,” someone mutters.

“No, I will,” another voice pipes up. You recognize it as one of the engineers, his voice shaky but sincere.

“I mean, she’s our driver, right? We have to help.”

More voices chime in, each one offering, each one willing. The panic in the room turns to a frantic eagerness, as though everyone suddenly realizes what’s at stake. You can barely comprehend it — the idea that your team, your colleagues, are discussing this as though it’s just another task, something to be done to save your life.

Your mind is spinning, your body trembling with the heat still coursing through you. You want to shout at them, tell them to stop, that this isn’t how things should be. But you can’t move, can’t speak. All you can do is listen as the conversation grows more chaotic, more desperate.

Then, the door opens again, and a new voice cuts through the noise.

“Everyone out.”

It’s Max.

The room falls silent instantly, every head turning toward him. He stands in the doorway, his face hard and set, his blue eyes blazing with an intensity you’ve never seen before. He looks around the room, his gaze sharp, taking in the faces of your teammates, the panic, the confusion.

“I said out,” Max repeats, his voice calm but firm.

No one moves at first, too shocked to respond. But then one by one, they start to file out, murmuring to each other in hushed tones as they leave the room. You hear Alan hesitate for a moment, but even he doesn’t argue. The door shuts softly behind them, leaving you alone with Max.

You’re too weak to turn your head, but you can hear him walk closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He doesn’t speak right away, and the silence hangs heavy in the air, broken only by the soft beeping of the machines monitoring your condition.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Max’s voice fills the room. “It’s going to be me.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“No one else is touching you,” he says, his tone low, steady. “I’m your teammate. I’m the one who’s going to help you. Not them.”

You can’t see his face, but you can hear the resolve in his voice, the determination. He’s not offering. He’s deciding. There’s no question, no hesitation. It’s going to be him, and no one else.

And as the burning inside you flares again, you realize that part of you is grateful.

***

The air between you and Max is thick with tension, the kind that crackles in the silence, heavy with unspoken words. You lie there, your body still ablaze, the fire under your skin pulsing in waves, but something about his presence — steady, resolute — grounds you, if only just. You can’t move, can barely speak, but your mind races, half-paralyzed with the agony of the pollen and half with the strange anticipation of what’s to come.

Max stands beside the bed, his face framed by the fluorescent lights above, casting shadows that sharpen his features. He doesn’t look afraid, though you can tell there’s something behind his eyes — something that trembles just beneath the surface. His gaze locks onto yours, and it feels like he’s looking past the pain, past the situation, to something deeper.

“This isn’t how I imagined …“ His voice is soft, barely more than a whisper, as though the words aren’t meant to be heard by anyone but you. He reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours, tentative at first, like he’s asking permission for what’s about to happen.

You want to respond, to say something, but your throat is too tight, too raw, the burning heat still tearing through you. You manage the faintest of nods, your hand twitching against his, and that’s all he needs.

Max leans over, his face close to yours now, his breath warm against your cheek. His hand trails gently down your arm, his touch soft, careful. “I’m here, okay?” He murmurs, his voice low, soothing. “We’ll get through this.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, in that same quiet, tender voice, he adds, “Schatje … you’re so strong.”

The endearment rolls off his tongue like honey, and despite everything — despite the fire tearing you apart from the inside out — it brings a strange, aching warmth to your chest. Max has never called you that before. The intimacy of it catches you off guard, though you don’t have the strength to dwell on it for long.

His hands move lower now, brushing across your skin with reverence, as though you might break under his touch. You shiver, not from the cold, but from the intensity of his gaze, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

“You don’t deserve this,” Max whispers, his forehead nearly touching yours. His voice cracks ever so slightly, betraying the calm façade he’s trying to maintain. “I’ve … I’ve wanted this for a long time,” he admits softly, his words a confession, raw and vulnerable. “But not like this. Never like this.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the feel of his hands on your body, the way he’s handling you with such care, as though he’s afraid of hurting you. And somehow, through the pain, you manage to relax just enough to let him in. Just enough to let him take some of the weight from you.

He presses his lips to your temple, a soft, lingering kiss, and you can feel the tremble in his breath. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin. “Just let me take care of you.”

The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, the burning inside you dims, replaced by something else. Something warm, and tender, and utterly consuming. Max moves with purpose now, his touch becoming more sure, more confident, but never losing that careful tenderness. He’s cooing to you, whispering soft praises in Dutch, his voice like a balm against the fire raging inside you.

“I’ve always wanted you,” Max admits again, his words spilling out like he can’t hold them back any longer. “For so long. I just … I didn’t know how to tell you.”

His hands continue their journey, and despite the circumstances, despite the fire still licking at your insides, your body responds. Every touch feels magnified, every brush of his skin against yours sending a jolt of something deeper through you, something primal and desperate and… needed.

“You’re so strong,” he says again, his voice reverent, almost in awe. “So perfect. I don’t know how you do it.”

Your body trembles beneath him, not just from the fire that’s still coursing through you, but from the way he’s touching you, the way his words wrap around you like a soft embrace. It’s intimate in a way you hadn’t expected, the vulnerability of the moment stripping away any pretense, any barriers you might have once had.

“I’m here, liefje,” Max whispers, his lips brushing against your ear now. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

You don’t know how he manages it, how he makes something so painful feel like this, but he does. His hands are everywhere, soothing the burn, coaxing your body to relax, to give in to what you need. And with every touch, every whispered endearment, the fire inside you dims, just a little, just enough to let you breathe.

“I wish it was different,” Max murmurs, his voice thick with emotion now. “I wish this was … just us. Not because of this. Not because of …“ His words trail off, but you understand. You understand perfectly.

He presses his forehead against yours again, his breathing ragged, his body tense with the effort of keeping himself composed. “But I’ll do whatever it takes,” he says, his voice fierce with determination. “I’ll do anything for you.”

Your body reacts to him instinctively now, every nerve ending lighting up in response to his touch, the fire inside you blazing hotter but in a way that feels … different. Less painful. More like an ache, a deep, desperate need that only he can fill.

“Max …“ you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse, barely audible. It’s the first word you’ve spoken since waking up, and it feels like a release, like a crack in the wall you’ve built around yourself. He hears it, though, and his gaze softens, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice full of emotion. “I’ve always got you.”

His movements quicken, and you can feel yourself spiraling, the fire inside you building to a crescendo, but this time it’s not just pain. It’s something more, something overwhelming and all-consuming. You can feel him with you, guiding you, coaxing you toward the edge.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers again, his voice breathless now, his own control slipping. “I’ve wanted you for so long …“

His words send you tumbling over the edge, your body convulsing in a wave of pleasure so intense it nearly takes your breath away. The fire beneath your skin peaks, then suddenly, blessedly, begins to recede. It’s like the flames are being extinguished, one by one, leaving only warmth in their wake.

And Max is there, holding you through it, his arms wrapped around you tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His breathing is ragged, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself together, but he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t move.

As the last of the fire dies down, as your body finally begins to relax, you hear him whisper, so softly you almost miss it.

“I love you.”

The words slip out before he can stop them, unguarded and raw, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The room, the pain, the circumstances that brought you here — it all disappears, leaving only the two of you, tangled together, vulnerable and exposed.

You’re too weak to respond, too exhausted from everything that’s just happened, but Max doesn’t seem to mind. He holds you close, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your hair, your forehead, anywhere he can reach.

“I love you,” he whispers again, like he’s afraid you didn’t hear him the first time. “I’ve always loved you.”

His confession hangs in the air, delicate and fragile, but it feels right. Like it’s been waiting to be said all along.

As the fire beneath your skin finally dies out completely, as your body settles into a state of calm for the first time in hours, you let yourself fall into the safety of his arms, his warmth the only thing keeping the remnants of the fire at bay.

Max doesn’t let go. Not for a long time. And you don’t want him to.

***

Max holds you close, his body pressed against yours, his breath still coming in shallow bursts as the two of you lie in a tangled heap on the bed. The burning fire that had been searing through your body has finally been extinguished, leaving only a lingering warmth that feels manageable now.

But even though the pain is gone, even though your body has found relief, there’s still something… unfinished. A strange, restless feeling that hums beneath your skin, an ache that begs for more.

Max is quiet beside you, his hand brushing gently through your hair as he watches your face, his expression soft but intent, like he’s still worried, still waiting for some sign that you’re okay. But you can see it in his eyes — he knows. He knows it’s not over yet.

You shift beneath him, the subtle movement sending a ripple of sensation through you, and your breath hitches involuntarily. The fire is gone, but that need, that craving — it’s still there, simmering just below the surface. It’s not the urgent, desperate heat of the pollen, but it’s undeniable.

Max’s gaze sharpens, reading the subtle cues in your body. His hand stills in your hair, and you feel him shift beside you, his body tensing slightly as he watches you, waiting for you to say something, to ask for what you need.

You don’t have to.

“Oh liefje,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “You still need more, don’t you?”

Your throat tightens, and you nod, unable to form the words. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes — understanding, maybe, or something deeper. He doesn’t ask if you’re sure. He already knows.

Max’s hand trails down your body, his touch feather-light, and it sends a shiver through you, your body responding to him instantly. He presses a kiss to your temple, then to your jaw, his lips warm and soft against your skin. “I’m here,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. “Whatever you need.”

His lips travel lower, grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, and you arch into him, your body aching for more. He moves slowly, deliberately, savoring each touch, each kiss, as if he’s committing every inch of you to memory.

You can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips when he moves lower still, his mouth brushing against your collarbone. He’s taking his time, drawing this out, making sure every second is filled with pleasure, with tenderness. There’s no urgency now, no frantic need to cure the fire. This is something else — something deliberate, something intimate.

Max’s hands slide down your sides, his thumbs brushing lightly over your ribs as he lowers himself down the bed. His mouth follows the path his hands have carved, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You feel his breath against your skin, warm and teasing, as he moves lower, kissing across your stomach with slow, deliberate care.

Every nerve in your body is on high alert, each touch sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you. Your fingers tangle in the sheets, gripping them tightly as you fight to keep your composure, but Max makes it impossible. His lips are everywhere, soft and warm and completely unrelenting.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “I don’t think you even realize …”

His words send a thrill through you, and your breath catches as his hands slide lower, his fingers brushing the curve of your hips. He presses a kiss to your navel, and you feel the heat pooling deep inside you, the need building again, stronger this time, more insistent.

“Max …” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears you. He always hears you.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers back, his voice soft, reassuring. “Just relax.”

You try, but it’s impossible with the way he’s touching you, the way he’s kissing you, like every part of you deserves his undivided attention. He’s worshiping you with every movement, and it’s almost too much to bear.

Max’s hands slide up your thighs, and your breath stutters as he spreads your legs wider, his eyes dark with want as he looks up at you. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he presses a kiss just below the dip of your waist, teasing you, making you wait.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. “Do you know that?”

You can’t respond, can’t do anything but arch into him, desperate for more. He knows exactly what you need, and he’s giving it to you slowly, carefully, savoring every moment.

Max’s hands grasp your thighs, and he pulls them apart slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s something in his gaze — something raw, something vulnerable. He’s giving himself to you completely, just as much as you’re giving yourself to him.

His lips trail lower, pressing kisses to the sensitive skin there, and your entire body shudders in response. Every nerve is on fire again, but this time it’s not the cruel burn of the pollen.

This is different. This is Max.

He pauses for a moment, his lips hovering just above where you need him most, and he looks up at you, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers, his voice barely more than a breath.

You can’t form the words. All you can do is nod, your body trembling beneath him.

Max smiles, a small, almost shy smile, and then he lowers his head, his mouth finally, blessedly, on you. The sensation is immediate, intense, and you cry out, your fingers digging into the sheets as he works you with a precision that only he seems to know. His tongue moves slowly at first, teasing you, drawing out your pleasure, but it doesn’t take long for him to find the rhythm that makes your entire body sing.

He’s relentless, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony, driving you higher and higher until you can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel. The pleasure builds and builds, coiling tighter and tighter inside you until you’re sure you’re going to break.

“Max!” You gasp, your body arching off the bed. “Please …”

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. If anything, he goes faster, his tongue working you with an intensity that leaves you trembling. You’re so close, so impossibly close, and he knows it.

“That’s it,” he whispers against you, his voice thick with need. “Let go, schatje. I’ve got you.”

And then, with one last flick of his tongue, you’re gone, tumbling over the edge into a wave of pleasure so intense it almost hurts. Your entire body convulses, your vision going white as you fall apart beneath him, your fingers gripping the sheets so tightly they burn.

Max doesn’t let up, his mouth still on you, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until you’re nothing but a trembling, panting mess. When he finally pulls away, you’re left gasping for breath, your body slick with sweat, your heart racing in your chest.

He crawls back up the bed, pressing soft kisses to your skin as he goes, his hands soothing over your trembling limbs. When he finally reaches your face, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his fingers brushing your hair back from your face.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs, his voice soft, reassuring. “You’re okay.”

You can barely nod, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release. Max pulls you into his arms, holding you close, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back as you come down from the high. His breath is warm against your ear, and you can feel his heart beating in time with yours.

For a moment, everything is still. Quiet. Perfect.

And then, just as your breathing begins to slow, the door creaks open.

The doctor walks in, clipboard in hand, his expression unreadable as he takes in the sight of you and Max — sweaty, tangled together, your bodies still humming with the afterglow. He doesn’t say anything at first, just glances at his clipboard, then back at you.

“Well,” he says after a moment, his tone entirely too clinical for the situation. “It appears the cure has been administered.”

Max stiffens beside you, but the doctor doesn’t seem to notice — or care. He simply jots down a few notes on his clipboard, his pen scratching loudly in the silence.

“Residual effects of heightened libido may persist,” the doctor adds, almost as an afterthought. He glances up from his notes, his gaze flicking between you and Max, then nods, satisfied. “I’ll be back to check on you later.”

And with that, he turns and walks out of the room, leaving you and Max in stunned silence.

Max lets out a breath, a low, incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. “Did he seriously just …”

You nod, still too dazed to form a coherent response.

Max shakes his head, a small smile playing at his lips as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “Well, I guess we’re not done yet.”

And with the way your body still hums with need, you know he’s right.

[tender-rosiey]

hii, hope im not bothering uu!!

my brain is obsessed with ur daddy gojo ficsss!! 🤭🤭 just a thought though. what if gojo brought his kid to work since reader couldnt hire a babysitter and had work to do!! 😱😱 kid can be a baby or like, 7-10?? or something? (idrc i jus need to feed my head with more dad gojo fics 😔😔, kid can be a girl or boy!!) hopee u have a nice dayyy!! ❤❤

missing – gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I wrote the kid being around 5 or 6 max, I think?? hope you like this as well! <3

you are standing at the door, checking over everything with your husband, "satoru, you got the toys?"

like the proud and confident dad he is, he replies with ease, "yep."

"the snacks?"

“of course,” he grins, pulling up the bag of snacks and toys to show you.

but you’re still stressing, "what about—“

"wifey, relax!” he starts rubbing your shoulders soothingly; “I got everything she needs. you have nothing to worry about,” he presses a loud kiss to your cheek.

"last time you said that, you teleported with d/n to the maldives."

he laughs loudly, before pulling you into a big hug, "aww, babe; I said I am sorry,” he is swaying the both of you, “you know I wanted you to be with us."

"that's not the point!"

"oh wowie, look at the time!” he looks at his fake watch and starts gently pushing you towards the car, “you’re gonna be late sweetheart."

"oh god!" you gasp, quickly giving satoru his goodbye kiss, and running to your daughter to give her own goodbye peck on the cheek as well, “I will miss you; take care of dada, okay?”

“aren’t I the one who is supposed to do that taking care part?!”

“bye ‘toru; bye d/n! love you!”

“love you too!” they both reply in unison before looking each other in the eye. satoru grins at her, “do you want to see uncle nanami?”

“nanamin!” she squeals then runs to god knows where.

soon, they finally get to jujutsu tech.

it took longer than usual because the little missy ran off and decided to play hide and seek. in addition to that, since the madlives incident, you banned satoru from teleporting with d/n because it gets her really dizzy and she starts puking.

so like the common people, he takes a car and has to wait till they arrive there. he wants to grumble, but, at least, his princess is there to play with him and make conversations.

they are finally in class when nobara coos, crouching down in front of d/n, “oh, you’re so cute!”

the little girl grins, “thank you!”

“also, I love your dress!”

“oh; thank you!” d/n gasps and starts twirling around, “mommy picked it for me! It’s so pretty, right?” nobara nods eagerly at her and it makes d/n giggle.

d/n pauses for a moment, a pout on her face and eyes get teary, and looks at satoru, “mommy…”

satoru pats her head, “we will see her soon; don’t worry.”

“wow; I am surprised you’re acting like a proper dad,” megumi comments, waving at d/n who grins back at him.

swiftly, yuuji defends his teacher’s pride, “hey! sensei is a great dad!”

d/n starts swinging her arms around and running in place like she is preparing for something. soon. it is revealed what she is waiting for. the door opens and she launches herself at the new guest, “nanamin!”

nanami effortlessly catches her and secures his hold on her, “d/n, that was dangerous; what if you got hurt?”

she looks down with yet another pout, “I know…’am sorry. just missed you.”

nanami sighs before patting her head, “it’s alright,” a tiny smile creeps up, “are you having fun so far?”

she nods happily and starts rambling about how cool nobara is or how much fun yuuji is to be around. meanwhile, satoru is standing in a corner with his arms crossed and grumbling, “that’s my daughter, you know.”

“imagine losing your daughter’s affection to someone else,” megumi pops up from behind satoru.

he retorts with no hesitation, “imagine not having a father.”

satoru looks petrified at megumi who is so very offended. satoru starts mini-panicking, “wait—megumi, I was kidding!”

“divine dogs.”

satoru shrieks and d/n squeals, pointing at him, “minmin, daddy’s playing with ‘gumi’s dogs!”

nanami averts his attention to gojo playing (read: being attacked). he nods slowly at the suffering man, “he is having so much fun; isn’t he?”

 “yay!” she throws her arms in the air.

nobara snaps a picture of d/n, “she’s adorable!”

yuuji sobs beside her, “I know right?!”

that was at the beginning of the day, but, right now, satoru has to attend a meeting for some reason with the higher-ups, including yaga. though, it hardly counts as a proper one considering that satoru laid out d/n toys so she can play with him.

“daddy, you’re not supposed to give him the green shirt; he needs the blue one.”

satoru quickly obeys, “yes ma’am,” and he changes the doll into his fabulous blue outfit. d/n giggles and holds his face to kiss his cheek.

one of the higher-ups clears his throat, “refrain from such disrespectful behavior during the meeting, gojo.”

satoru smiles humorlessly at the elder, “last time I checked, my daughter’s happiness is a lot more important than the nonsense you spout every single time.”

d/n carefully makes her way down the table and pulls on satoru’s pants, “daddy, toilet, please.”

“this was a fun meeting!” he beams, collecting d/n’s toys in her bag, “I have more urgent matters to attend to so adieu!” he mock bows, before bending to pick his daughter up, “let’s go princess.”

the door closes after satoru and d/n leave, and everyone looks at yaga. he takes a deep breath, “listen, that's his daughter. asking him not to pamper her is like asking a cat to let go of her kittens. you will get bit.”

time passes and satoru is chilling with d/n in the common room. she is laying on his lap and curled around herself. she groggily looks up to him, “when are we going to see mommy?”

he starts stroking her hair, “soon; I promise,” he takes out a candid picture he took of you and hands it to her, “how about you take this until we go back home and see mommy?”

she nods slowly and hugs the photo close. satoru smiles softly and presses a kiss to her forehead. not much after, d/n falls asleep with your photo secure in her hold.

it makes satoru chuckle. it reminds him of how he can never sleep without you either.

that’s why when he goes on mission, he scrolls endlessly through your photos until sleep takes over him or he listens to any voice message you sent. it helps him with the dilemma of missing you, and he is glad it helps his daughter the same way.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[eddieemunsonnn]

If Eddie & Chrissy Worked Out

part i

So, first off, this is how I would think that this relationship started and how it would've eventually turned out to be;

so Eddie ends up graduating, only because they want him out of the school. Chrissy graduates also that year. after the graduation ceremony, Jason leaves with his parents because he's going to spend the summer in Florida visiting his grandparents. he wishes that Chrissy could've come with him, but they both knew Chrissy's parents were against the idea of their oldest, and only daughter going out of the state with a boy whose parents were not as involved in their son's lives as they were in their daughter's. So when Chrissy gives Jason a kiss goodbye, she starts walking to her parent's car. while walking there, she sees Eddie and his uncle. She watches as his uncle smiles at the messy, mullet-wearing boy. He looks so proud. Eddie catches her looking though and he gives a soft smile and a tiny wave. The last time he saw her or talked to her was that day she ended up at his home and she backed out of taking what she wanted to. He drove her home that night and the two didn't really speak again. Chrissy returns it and then walks fast to her parents' car.

The next time that the two run into each other is like a week later at the bowling alley... Chrissy is out with some friends when she sees Eddie hanging out by himself. She excuses herself from her friends and walks up to Eddie. "Hi, Eddie." "Hey, Chrissy." The two give each other an awkward smile before Chrissy asks him what he's doing by himself. "Oh, y'know. Just waiting on my date. She's an hour and a half late, but maybe she's still coming." Chrissy looks at him and feels a heat in her cheeks accompanied by anger. Who would just stand him up like that? No one deserves to be stood up. "You wanna come over and hang out with me and my friends?" Eddie looks over at the group and winces. He rolls his eyes and says no before admitting he's probably just going to go and grab pizza down the street. "Can I come?" Eddie is taken by surprise and asks if Chrissy's serious. She nods and he looks at her friends before he asks again. "I'm positive. They're a little boring." Eddie gives a small smile and nods before he takes her hand and they start heading for a back door. Chrissy follows him and silently thanks him for doing so. She doesn't need those loud mouths telling Jason she was leaving with Eddie The Freak. They end up grabbing pizza, she only has one slice even though she could eat the whole pizza by herself. "You don't have to be so proper around me," Eddie smiles trying to lighten her mood. Reluctantly, Chrissy grabs another slice and takes a few bites before she psyches herself out and feels sick to her stomach at the thought of eating. Eddie notices this but doesn't want to say anything, he's afraid she'll get up and leave like last time. After Eddie finishes his food he asks if she wants a ride home. She shakes her head no saying she isn't ready yet. "It's almost sunset though," Eddie says. "I don't care. I just wanna hang out." Eddie nods, confused of course, and then says, "How about we go somewhere you'll feel a little more comfortable." Chrissy raises an eyebrow but agrees to go. They end up in the woods where they spend the rest of the afternoon just chatting and aimlessly throwing rocks into the lake they stumbled upon.

The next time they hang out is a few days later. They meet at the corner of Chrissy's neighborhood and head to the woods again. This time, Eddie brings weed. He's stressed out and needs to calm down. His anxiety has been acting up all day and he's hoping this can mellow him out just a little bit. Chrissy lets him smoke and fights the voice in her head telling her to ask him for a hit.

By the third week of summer vacation, the two are hanging out almost every day. They go to the woods and Eddie smokes while they both talk about nonsense. They have both been giving each other movie recommendations so Eddie is currently watching Grease and Sixteen Candles, while Chrissy is watching Star Wars and The Outsiders. They both secretly like the movies they have been watching, but they won't say that out loud.

[starlight-channie]

♡ episode eleven: high (📝...written chapter)

summary: When Hongjoong developed a crush on y/n, he thought confessing wasn't going to be so hard.....until life started throwing curve balls at him. Will she ever get to know how he feels?

polaroid love : masterlist

previous ─ ughhh...

next ─ threatened

a/n ─ this is my first ever written chapter and for those who are still keeping up with this I hope you guys enjoy it. I tried my best and trust me this smau is truly a slow burn. I love y'all bye<33

Dm or send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist

You get out of your room and make your way to the kitchen where you were greeted by Hana making herself some ramen. "I am going out for a bit, I'll come back soon bye" was all you said before putting on your shoes and getting out of the apartment unit. You walk out of your building and make your way to the gate where you saw Hongjoong standing near his car with one of his hands in his pocket and the other one holding a paper bag.

As soon as Hongjoong saw you his eyes lit up and the softest smile appeared on his face, you looked so adorable in your oversized hoodie and your pyjamas running in tiny towards him that he could literally disintegrate in that very second. He waved his hands and greeted you.

"So why did you ask me to come out in this cold ass weather?" you questioned him with both your hands inside your hoodie pockets.

He chuckled a bit at your question and answered "Just wanted to see you". He said it in a teasing tone and manner but he also actually meant it. You side eyed him and responded "Then you could've just asked me to send you a selfie or something", you teased him back which made him laugh a little. You were now getting curious as to why he exactly called you out so you pouted a little in frustration and said "Come on, stop teasing me"

He then gave you the sincerest smile, let out a sigh and responded "Fine, here you go", holding up the paper bag. You tilted your head and gave him a confused look. Wondering what exactly is in that brown paper bag that he was holding up to your face.

"I was getting coffee for my hyungs at the studio and I saw four waffles left at the store and they reminded me of you so I thought I'd get them for you" he answered and happiness took over you and you gave him the biggest smile. You took the paper bag out of his hands and peeked inside it a little bit as you got really excited about the food that Hongjoong just brought you.

"Oh my God this is so sweet of you. Joong, how did you know I've been craving for waffles for such a long time now??" you asked him. He couldn't help but smile at your words since he really didn't know that you were craving them. He felt content and proud that he was able to bring you something that you wanted without even knowing that you wanted them.

"I actually didn't know that but I am glad I could satisfy your cravings", he answered proudly. You gave him the biggest smile and hugged him as a form of thank you and you couldn't see it but Hongjoong was a blushing mess and he could feel fireworks going off above his head and a swarm of butterflies in his stomach because of your actions. When you broke out of the hug Hongjoong's phone rang to which he checked and said "Oh shit it's my hyung's I guess they must be wondering where the heck I am, so I guess i'll just scram out of here since I have accomplished what I came here for".

You gave him a sad look and questioned "Can't you stay a little bit longer? We could take a walk around the neighborhood?" As much as Hongjoong wanted to do all those with you and spend time with you he just gives you an apologetic look and says "I am so sorry y/n but I have to go, I'll see you tomorrow for sure okay! Enjoy your waffles, byee"

"Oh okay then bye see you tomorrow. Thank you so much for the food once again" was all you said before he gets into his car. He rolls down his window and smiles at you waving goodbye before driving off.

You turn around to go back into your apartment building when in the corner of your eyes you saw a shadowy figure behind the gate lamppost. You should be running back inside your building as fast as you can when you see that but the shadowy figure looked similar to you so you stepped a little closer and called out "Hey". Again, you should be running away at the fastest speed but you knew who that shadowy figure was. "Yeosang, what are you doing there??" you asked and Yeosang indeed came out of the shadows.

"Hmm nothing I was just taking a walk around the neighborhood anyways I should get going it's getting late" he said all that in one breath. And before you could answer or ask anymore questions he grabbed your shoulders and turned you towards your apartment building telling you to go inside since it's already late.

You were confused at what was happening so you tried to turn towards him to ask what the heck was going on but he stopped you and pushed you gently towards the entrance of your apartment building saying "It's late and cold, go on, get inside". You couldn't debate with him since he didn't give you a chance so you just obeyed him and walked towards your apartment building.

Yeosang watched you as you made your way towards your apartment building because he always had to watch you enter any building or house safely before he walked away. That was his habit and also a way for him to make sure you were safe. Before entering the building you looked back to see Yeosang still watching you. He waved his hands and gave you a smile and mouthed a 'Good night see you tomorrow bye' to which you just smiled and waved back in return.

Yeosang's smile dropped as soon as you were out of his sight. He looked towards the thrash can near the building lamppost where he just threw a box of waffles.

[tags] @at1nys-blog @dogsongy @erodemyedges @randomness7198 @yunhowooyo @jaycheoluwu @grim-adventures58 @john-joong

[tommyspeakycap]

I love your work! I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something about (toddler) baby Shelby having Alfie help her bake a cake for Tommy

omggggg that’s so so cute!!

A Bakers Help

The burly Camden Town ‘baker’ was nothing short of completely shocked when he heard a soft banging on his office door in the mid afternoon. His eyebrows had furrowed and he had kept his hand readily on his weapon so he was prepared in the event of an enemy being on the other side of the door. He was surprised to say the least when he tugged open the door and had to look down multiple inches to spot she who knocked on the door.

There stood a little girl. One he knew fairly well but who’s appearance outside his office was still a shock. That little girl was notorious around most of England, especially in heavily gang populated territories where the “Shelby” was a household name and everybody who knew that name knew the littlest member of the family was something akin to a jewel in Tommy Shelby’s crown. Alfie had been curious as to whether or not she was actually attached to Thomas Shelby’s hip in consideration to how much time she spent right by his side, teetering along on little legs so he knew she was safe right by his side. It wasn’t often that Tommy entrusted others to watch over his youngest sister, so it would be safe to say that Alfie was incredibly confused.

“Good morning.” The little girl greets, her lips plastered with a bright smile as she lifts a hand to wave at him. Alfie braces himself on either side of his doorway with strong hands so as to lean out of his office to look out into the ‘bakery’ to both the left and right before stepping back in. “Mhm yes it was actually. Where’s your brothers?” He asks, turning his eyes back to the girl in the doorway who fights to pull her wool coat back up from falling off her arms due to the fact it hadn’t been buttoned up. The girl shrugs, “Dunno...Can I come in?” She asks politely, “It’s very cold.”

Alfie Solomons squints his eyes and forms a crease between his brows, but even he can’t deny the chill in the winter breeze through the unheated factory and the shivering of the child, and so he steps to the side and gestures her in the door. Alfie hums, or maybe something more akin to a grumble, in thought as the five year old wanders around his office to take in the whole surroundings. “And where are your pikey brothers then yeah?” His voice rumbles deep and gravelly the same way it always does, not missing the chance or thinking twice about dropping an insult to the Shelby men as he speaks. The youngest of the clan shrugs her little shoulders. “Dunno,” she says again, “I’m with Ada. Told her i was going out to play.”

The words most definitely do worry Alfie Solomons after the girl with Tommy Shelby’s striking blue eyes and his heart in the palm of her tiny hand finishes speaking flippantly. It occurs to him that she’s simply too young to understand both risk and consequence. She knows that Tommy Shelby dotes on her like the little princess he believes her to be. She knows he loves her, he tells her every day. However, Alfie knows the far darker side to that love. He’s heard of people brutally murdered with remains unidentifiable after coming close to her, and although Alfie has no desire to harm a child who probably doesn’t even understand what it is the rest of her family do when she’s not around, that doesn’t reassure him even in the slightest that Tommy, Arthur, Ada and John Shelby along with Polly Gray wouldn’t rip him to shreds if they knew their little princess was stood in his office for whatever reason.

“Right,” Alfie states, “Better get you home then,” He strides easily towards the door to hold it open, but the little girl simply quirks one eyebrow and remains where she stands. “It’s Tommy’s birthday soon.” She declares, looking up at the hardened London gangster as if he poses no threat nor fear to her in the slightest bit. She smiles at him, big and bright. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know if he was violent, didn’t know if he was supposed to be scary. She just knew she had met him before, he was relatively funny as the 5 year old obviously did not pick up on the thinly veiled threats hiding beneath the verbal back and forth between her favourite brother and the man she stood with now, and more importantly than anything; she knew he was a ‘baker’. “You need a cake on your birthday, you know.” She adds very matter of factly, and Alfie Solomons doesn’t fight the little grin he gives. “And you’re a baker, so you can make good cakes. I need you to help me make Tommy’s cake for birthday cake time on Saturday.”

There’s virtually no way this little girl had just come up with this by herself. The way she acts, her generosity, her sweetness and her absolute insistence of cake for her brothers birthday was not something she had adapted by herself. Children don’t just come up with these things. That thought, for Alfie, means that those who have raised her have drilled a certain kindness into her. Thomas Shelby has raised his little sister to be the kind of kid who will find a man she thinks is a baker just because her brother told her he was, so that he can help her make a cake. That makes Alfie want to laugh. Tommy Shelby acts the part, but Solomons now knows he’s the type who taught a little girl about the importance of cake and birthday fun.

“Fine.” Alfie responds, out stretching his arm to gesture the little girl out into the factory. He did actually have a designated area for the ‘bakery’ just in the event that someone came looking or investigating and he needed to show there was actually a bakery there. He was thankful for that now, because he got the feeling that there was little to no chance he would have gotten away from the very very persistent little Shelby trailing behind him. It becomes apparent very quickly that little (y/n) will have no luck when it comes to seeing what was going on up on the counter, considering she wasn’t even nearly the same height as it, never mind tall enough see over it. Alfie has to get creative in that respect, eyes flicking around until they lands on a a stack of crates that he grabs a couple of to pile them next to the counter so that the youngest Shelby can contribute as she pleased to the cake making.

All things considered, Alfie was actually a fairly good baker. He didn’t come up with the idea of a bakery to cover his illegal business work for no reason. He knew he could bake if it was necessary (which it sometimes was to smuggle alcohol), so this ask from the little girl who had a list of ingredients and an exact image of how she wanted this cake to look, wasn’t a huge task for him.

In the process of the bake, Alfie learned a lot. He learned that little Shelby couldn’t quite pronounce her L’s (which Tommy was apparently working on with her), so she called him Afie. He learned that Tommy’s favourite cake was vanilla sponge, which was why it was a four tier vanilla sponge with extra strawberry jam that his sweet little sister had chosen. He learned that the little girl got here by very discretely tripping up her cousin, Karl, so that Ada was preoccupied giving him a plaster for his knee and stopping his tears and (y/n) snuck off from Ada’s London home in the direction she felt like she remembered Tommy going when he had taken her to Alfie’s bakery once, albeit leaving her in the car with Arthur and John. She had to ask for directions from confused strangers a few times, but ultimately she found the place on her own. Alfie learned that little Shelby talks a lot. She’s very clever, can follow instructions a lot better than most children of a similar age. It had become increasingly clear she didn’t see any problem with talking about the fun things she did with her brothers. The way Arthur and John like to throw her about to hear her giggles, how Tommy tucks her in every single night that he can. How he tickles her, how he still carries her around even though her aunt Polly protests it. How good her aunt Polly’s cooking is. How much she loves her family. She sees no problem with divulging these soft family moments, although Tommy would probably be absolutely appalled that people knew these things about him and his brothers. It made the head of the Peaky Blinders seem so incredibly mundane.

Alfie could see now why that sweet girl was so loved and held so dear by the family. He also had to wonder if she truly was one of them. She was funny and bright, she giggled with him and babbled on about sorts of rubbish. Alas, she was bossy as Thomas himself. She was loud like Arthur, sarcastic as John, self assured as Polly, as independent as Finn and opinionated as Ada. She made sure to tell Alfie exactly how to stack the first layer while she mixed ingredients for the next layer and he was kept on a very short leash, reminded every so often that he was not to dip his fingers in any of the mixtures and leaning over as he worked to tell him Tommy liked more jam than what Alfie had put on.

“Wait!” She yelps out, leaping off the makeshift kitchen stool made from those bottle crates to chase after Alfie until she reaches the man who was carrying the cake towards a box. “Finishing touches,” she insists, ever so slightly dusting the cake with powdered icing sugar to give a final decorational appearance. Alfie smiles subconsciously as the small girl stands back with a proud grin, turning her eyes to man holding the cake, “Thank you Afie,” she beams, her cute little way of saying his name never lost on him as his heart flutters. “Welcome, baby Shelby.” He responds as he slips it into the cake box he’d ordered one of his men to go and get without question.

Alfie was certain he would step outside his bakery and London would be burning. He expected to have Shelby’s killing people on the streets searching for their baby, their sweet little princess. He assumed (and rightly so) that Ada hadn’t told Tommy that she had absolutely no idea where his most precious little love was for genuine fear of his reaction and so she had mobilised some friends and acquaintances she had made while in London to try finding her little sister. Albeit they were evidently unsuccessful and absolutely no one expected little (y/n) to be baking with Alfie Solomons for her gangster brothers birthday because she just loves him so.

Ada literally burst out the front door frantically when she saw the car headlights pull up outside her house, wrapping herself tightly in her coat as Alfie Solomons lifts her little sister down out of the car. The 5 year old stands innocent as ever next to the man who Tommy never truly knows if he can trust or not as he reaches back into the car to lift out a white cake box with two strong hands. “Better keep a closer eye on this one yeah?” He gestured his head to (y/n) who runs towards Ada and jumps into her open arms to be squeezed incredibly, almost painfully tightly. “Never run off like that again!” She hisses, her concern and anxiety clear behind her words as she speaks into her sisters soft hair, stroking it with her hand for some form of reassurance.

“Sorry Ada,” she hums cutely in response, “We made Tommy a cake though, for his birthday!” Ada let’s go of (y/n) and turns to the little girl. “Go inside and find Aunt Pol, i’ll be in shortly.” She says as she eyes Alfie Solomons with the stoney faced glare he assumes she learned from Polly Gray and her often stoney resolve. “Bye bye Afie!” The 5 year old chimes, scuttling up to him to wrap her arms around his legs for a moment before turning and running off with a wave at the doorstep with Alfie a little bit to stunned by how kind she was to him despite the bad man he was to do much else than wave after her. “You,” Ada snipped, cutting him out of his thoughts and crossing her arms firmly over her chest, “Baked a cake with my little sister?” Her words leak with confusion, eyebrows furrowed with her head tilted in question as she continues to be unable to think of any reason why Alfie Solomons hadn’t turned the little girl away or even used her as a bargaining chip with threats of harm to the child if Tommy didn’t do as Alfie wanted. Instead he baked with her a cake for Thomas and she was returned without a bump, not even a hair on her head harmed. He had returned the little Shelby who was uncharacteristically clumsy for a Shelby without her falling off of anything, burning herself on any ovens or accidentally eating something she was supposed to.

“Yeah.” Alfie responds, shrugging his shoulders at the same time. Ada steps closer to him to try in some way to read what he’s not saying, her heels clicking with each step. “And you want nothing for it?” She presses, her eyes narrowed as he shrugs. “Birthday gift innit yeah?” He grumbles, handing the cake to Ada. “She’s the best of you lot,” he states firmly as he turns his back to climb back into his car, “Keep her that way yeah?”

Ada’s frown turns to a soft smile as she nods, watching as Alfie Solomons pulls his door shut firmly and turns on his ignition.

“Mr Solomons, Oi!” She calls after him, forcing him to roll down his window to hear what she has to say. “Thank you.” She breathes, “For looking after her and bringing her home. And for the cake.” Alfie nods his head in acknowledgment. Ada isn’t sure what else to say. She still feels fairly nauseous at the fact her little sister was missing for virtually the whole day and littered with further nerves at the fact Tommy would be around to pick her up in a half hour and it wasn’t like little Shelby to keep quiet about anything, especially not when it came to Tommy and especially when it came to her adventures that her favourite brother hadn’t been part of, so assuredly she would let him know all about her baking day with Alfie after the cake was revealed tomorrow afternoon for his birthday. Alfie knew this too and he imagined he’d get a visit from the head of the Peaky Blinders relatively soon after he found out.

Tommy would probably be as confused as Ada as to why Alfie looked after little (y/n) the way he did. Alfie couldn’t even really explain it himself, she just warmed up his heart and the sweet little girl showed Alfie truly why Tommy loves that little girl so much. She brings laughter and happiness and fun. She brings light into a very, very dark life and Alfie appreciates that dedication Tommy had to keeping her safe a lot more now. He himself now had a soft spot for the kid and there was a part of him that knew for a fact he too would be making sure no one in his circle was breathing words of harming that little girl who had promised she would bake with him again, and had his birthday written on her hand so she could bake for his birthday.

Maybe the Shelby’s weren’t so bad after all.

[xmyshya]

Pvssy murdered on the Orgasm Express

summary: MSBY takes a night train to Tokyo for a match, but Atsumu has better ideas than sleeping. genre: crack, smut warnings: semi-public sex, unprotected sex, MINORS DNI betas: @vanille–kiss​ I love you birdie so much, you help me a lot and I'm forever grateful to you a/n: Fic is part of the HQHQ Server Collab with a prompt "Public sex/Chikan"! You can find the masterlist here wc: 1.6k

[Freeze frame] You open the door of your tiny room in a sleeping train compartment, only to be met with intense gazes of Bokuto and Hinata. Your hair is a mess, your clothes are disheveled, but the man stretching behind you looks flawless with his flowy blond hair and a lazy smirk. It’s painfully obvious what you’ve been doing.

[Record scratch] Yep, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I got in this mess. Buckle up.

-----------------

It’s going to be a long ride. You can’t recall the last time you travelled by public transportation and neither do MSBY boys, yet here you all are, on the way from Osaka to Tokyo. There’s an important game tomorrow, and the team's bus had the audacity to break down yesterday. Luckily, management splurged a little on a sleeping train car for the team, which means getting at least some rest.

This is the longest section, 6-hour train ride after the last transfer in Yamashina Eki. It’s nearing midnight, so you instruct the men to split between the rooms and get some rest before another change. They oblige without objections, shuffling into their segments, and soon the compartment falls silent.

It’s way past your usual bedtime, and now that adrenaline rush is over, exhaustion washes over you. The bed looks really inviting, especially with your boyfriend, Miya Atsumu, in it. He’s waiting with his arms open, prompting you with his hands to join in. So you do, laying down with your back pressed against his chest, his warm embrace making you relax with a content sigh.

“G’night, ‘Tsumu.”

You mumble through your sleepy haze, but instead of an answer, you’re met with a gentle rocking of his hips behind you and grinding of a growing erection against your ass. His breath is hot on the nape of your neck.

“I said good night, ‘Tsumu.”

“Heard ya the first time.”

His ministrations don’t stop though; it’s the opposite, actually. His hand finds its way under your shirt, calloused fingers gliding along the skin of your stomach in small circles, while he leaves open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder. You’re trying hard not to give in, firstly, because you don’t want to give him satisfaction, and secondly, because you actually intended to get some rest.

But when Atsumu’s teeth graze the sensitive skin you can’t help but let out a quiet gasp, and you can feel his lips curl into a smirk. Of course he knows your body way too well. His palm moves up in a slow motion, until it reaches your breasts; he gives one of them a gentle squeeze and brushes his thumb against a hardened nipple.

The blond’s lips move up your neck, biting, sucking, and licking, leaving red and purple marks on its way. His fingers play with the bud, rolling it and circling at the same pace as the languid movement of his clothed cock against your butt. It drives you crazy, but it’s not enough.

You place one leg over his; his thigh is now pressed to your covered pussy and you shamelessly roll your hips in search of some friction.

“Are ya this turned on already, Princess?”

His voice is low, husky, and sends a heated shiver down your spine. God, you think, how can someone be so annoying and so hot at the same time? He pinches your nipple and you moan his name, in response his chuckle rumbles through his chest. He loves how sensitive you are, he loves how his touch makes you pliant and needy.

“‘Tsumu, touch me.”

“I am touchin’ ya.”

Of course he knows what you mean. But he would lie if he said it doesn’t turn him on when you’re asking for things. When you’re demanding things. Another pinch on your bud and you jerk your hips at his cock.

“Finger me. Now.”

His erection twitches in his pants, and he’s dying to rip them off and just bury himself balls deep inside of you, but first, he has to oblige. Atsumu gives your breast last squeeze before trailing down. He draws his knee up opening you for his touch, and slides a finger along your covered slit.

“God, you’re soaked.” He half whispered, half groaned.

“Atsumu…”

He pushes your panties to the side and slips one finger between your folds. He pumps it in and out of your cunt, thumb massaging your already swollen clit. One of your hands disappears under your top, and through the thin fabric he can see you playing with your tits. His cock twitches again, and he pushes another finger in.

Atsumu picks up his pace, curling his fingers to make sure to brush against that spongy spot on your wall, that makes you clench so tight. You can feel the heat blooming in your abdomen, your boyfriend’s digits sliding and scissoring against your fluttering walls, as his thumb draws circles on your nub.

You come with loud moans of his name, screaming “Atsumu, fuck me” over and over again. And it’s all he needs to let go of his inhibitions, rolling you on your stomach and hovering over you.

He pulls your panties off and spreads your legs, kneeling in between them. Finally, he frees his already leaking cock, and it slaps against his abdomen.

“Lift yer ass a little, Princess.”

Calloused fingers dig into your hips as he helps you get in the position. The angle is low and uncomfortable, but works well with the moving and rocking train. Atsumu leans on one hand to your side, aiming his cock with the other. He glides inside in one swift motion, stretching you so deliciously, tip kissing your cervix.

“Move, please!”

The man shifts to all fours, and pulls back almost entirely before slamming his hips into yours. He does it again, and again, retracting slowly, letting you feel each vein of his cock, to thrust back in with enough force to push you forward on the sheets.

Atsumu rolls his hips in a circular motion, reaching deep and the angle allows him to drag his head along the g-spot repeatedly. He knows the pace is too slow to push you off the edge, but you still squeeze him tight with every brush on your spongy spot.

“Fuck, ya feel s’good. You… yer doing so well.”

He hisses through clenched teeth, praise sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

“‘Tsumu, faster.”

Your pleas are always his weakness, how could he say no to his little Princess when you’re asking him like that? He’s quickening his pace gradually, pushing out a moan after a moan from your throat. God, you sound so, so good.

“Babe, ‘m close.”

He groans as he reaches his hand between your thighs, the sudden rub on your clit makes your walls spasm and cry out his name.

“Baby, cum for… cum for me.”

The way Atsumu moans out those words drives you insane, his brutal rutting and relentless circling on your bud makes your orgasm hit you like a train. Your cries fill the whole room, and with the way your cunt clenches frantically around his cock, he can’t hold back either. He fills you with his milky release, as he rides you both down from your highs.

“Do we have wet wipes?”

The faux blonde mumbles against your shoulder blade, receiving only a hum as an answer.

“That good, huh?” he mutters as he hears your simple response, reaching into your bag to collect them.

“‘Tsum, gotta go to the bathroom.”

He cleans you and himself with damp tissues, and then helps you put on some clothes so you could leave the room. Atsumu snickers at your troubles with standing up, and you slap his chest for looking too proud about it. After a moment you’re able to take a few steps towards the door, and the man manages to pull up his boxers a moment before you slide it open.

Terror and embarrassment creep up on your features when you’re suddenly face to face with both Bokuto and Hinata, the former slapping something into the hand of his teammate.

Bonus scene:

Bokuto wakes up from his bladder being painfully full. He won’t be able to hold it in for another minute, so he taps his foot in darkness in search of his shoes. Still half asleep, he slides them on and waddles through the whole way to the toilet. It’s on the other end of the car, right behind your and Tsum Tsum’s room.

At first he doesn’t register the sounds, but as he reaches your door, the voices become clear. Moans. You two are having sex. And good sex at that. If Bokuto opened the door, he’d see you with your face buried in the pillow and ass up, and Atsumu railing you from behind.

But he doesn’t open the door. His first instinct is to run back to his room and disrupt the slumber of his mate.

“Chibi-chan! Wake up!”

The other man mumbles and turns to the other side, but Bokuto doesn’t get discouraged.

“Hey! Shoyo! You gotta hear this!”

With this Hinata sits up and rubs his eyes, but his friend already pulls him out of bed and into the hall.

“Bokuto-san, where-”

“Shhhh!”

And then he hears it. Your voices calling each others’ names.

“Who do you think is on top?” The taller man asks.

“Atsumu-san for sure.”

“I bet…” Bokuto searches his pockets and pulls out some bills. “2000 yen that it’s Y/N. If she comes out with nice hair, she was on top.”

Just as Hinata cheerfully declares “deal!”, the door slides open and they’re standing face to face with you. With messy hair. Behind you Atsumu is stretching looking as flawless as ever. Bokuto quickly slaps the money in Hinata’s hand.

[miekasa]

the babysitter’s club (1)

+ pairing: levi ackerman + (fem) reader, featuring bright-eyed but very easily intimidated interns and part-time babysitters eren and armin who are trying their best

+ genres and warnings: modern au, parents au, fluff, yes the dog’s name is captain and he’s tiny what about it

+ summary: eren and armin are good subordinates, who happen to be pretty good babysitter, too. usually. 

+ word count: 2.7k

+ notes: this was just something fun i edited and reworked again, also to provide some more insight about dad levi and my oc kids; this focuses only on holden, who is the oldest of the bunch, but you’ll more about the rest as they go

It’s not that Levi doesn’t trust Holden’s babysitters, he just would rather watch over her himself. Moreover, he would rather have the time to spend with his small daughter instead of having to leave her in the care of someone else who isn’t you, but sometimes life gets busy, and babysitters come in real handy.

He still doesn’t understand why Erwin would schedule the both of you to attend such important work-related meetings on the same weekend; much less, to send you half-way around the world for yours, and then book Levi for damn near twelve hours on a Saturday. He would murder Erwin if he weren’t his direct boss, and a long-time friend. But shit happens, and while it’s a major inconvenience and pain in his ass to be working on a weekend, it’s good to know he could rely on the brats at the office to step up on such short notice.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that if anything happens, I won’t hesitate to dismember you,” Levi says calmly, closing his briefcase after triple-checking its contents.

“Of course,” Armin stiffens visibly, awkward laughter seeping through his words, “Eren and I would never let anything happen to Holden.”

To his left, Holden has already tugged Eren to the coffee table for a game of children’s Scrabble, determined to show off her new skills. Levi smiles slightly as he remembers playing the game with her last week, and how awe-struck she was to have seen Levi create a word bigger than “unattainable”—which is currently the longest word in her four-year-old vocabulary. But he’s certain she would have no trouble beating Eren.

He gives Armin a slight nod. He knows Holden is in good hands; or good enough hands with Armin, anyway. It’s not the first time the duo has babysat, and for as air-headed and clumsy Eren could be at the office, he seemed to be pretty damn good with kids if Holden’s attachment to the brunette was anything to go by.

Levi recounts that you’ve questioned on multiple occasions why Eren was so dedicated to being your PA when he seemed to have a potential career in taking care of, and maybe even teaching children. Not that he’s not a good assistant to you, but he’s certainly not as organized or detailed-oriented as Armin. Levi shrugs away the thought. Eren’s career choices are none of his business; his only concern is that he keeps his daughter safe and sound.

“Right. My card is on the kitchen island, you can buy lunch and dinner or whatever, I don’t think there’s much in the fridge,” Levi informs Armin. He looks briefly to the clock on the wall; he really should get going. “Remember to walk Captain at some point, and no matter what Holden says, he absolutely does need a leash on him. If Erwin isn’t being a complete asshat, I’ll be home by nine. (Y/N) will probably still be on her flight, so call me if you need anything.”

Armin nods enthusiastically, promising Levi that they would take care of everything. They’d better.

“Alright, I’m heading out,” Levi announces, pulling his keys from the table near the door, “Be good, Holden. Tell Armin and Eren if you need anything.”

Holden’s head perks up at the sound of her name. Elegantly, or as elegantly as a four-year-old can be, she stands from her seated crisscross position, to run over to Levi by the door. He should remind her that she should use walking feet inside the house, but he can’t bring himself to, instead crouching down to meet her height.

“Bye, daddy,” she tells him sweetly. Levi reaches a hand out to ruffle the top of her head, much to the small girl’s chagrin. She sports a grimace almost identical to his as he reaches up to try and smooth out the aftermath of her father’s affections, “Daddy!”

Levi can’t help but chuckle, reaching two fingers out to poke at his daughter’s forehead. “Be good. I’ll be back soon.”

“Mommy too?”

Levi sighs, “No, mommy doesn’t come back until Tuesday.”

“That’s four days away,” Holden’s doesn’t hesitate to express her dissatisfaction. Levi nods, a little proud of how quickly she’d calculated that in her head, “Can Eren stay until Tuesday?”

“No, Eren cannot.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Holden crinkles her nose. Levi really has got to do something about her fascination with Eren.

Holden looks backwards to where Eren is still seated around the coffee table, he and Armin watching the father-daughter duo. After reconciling with the fact that Eren does, in fact, have his own home to go back to at the end of the day, Holden turns back around, and holds her hand up, palm facing Levi. He does the same, bringing his larger palm to hers, so that her hand is pushed against the middle of his.

Not one for hugs, kisses, or larger displays of affection, Holden simply turns her palm so that her hand grabs around Levi’s as best as possible, hooking her thumb around his pinky finger—what Levi’s heard the young girl call a hand hug.

“Bye, daddy,” she repeats, squeezing his hand, “Come back soon.”

Levi bends his fingers to wrap around her hand, “I will.”

“Keep an eye on her,” Levi reminds Armin and Eren, after standing back up and gripping his briefcase in his hand, “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

“Holden never causes trouble,” Eren says in response, but his words are spoken in coos to the young girl, who’s already back at his side. 

Levi scoffs, “I was talking to you.” 

“We’ll be fine, boss, don’t worry,” Eren chuckles with an awkward blush, “We love looking after Holden.”

“I’m not your boss,” Levi deadpans, double-checking his pockets for his keys, “You’d better hope everything is fine. Call me if anything happens, I’ll be back soon.” 

With one final round of good-byes, and a wave from his daughter, Levi’s out the door, and stepping into his car with a grimace. It was just one stupid day out of his life. Besides, Holden would be fine with Armin and Eren; she always is. Levi is just grumpy that he can’t be the one to spend the day with her. 

He sighs, reluctantly, putting his keys in the ignition. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could come back to Holden. Everything would be fine in the meantime; for now, he had to focus on how he was going to get himself to sit through Erwin’s long-ass meeting. 

“Levi! Hi! Um… okay, so don’t freak out, but Armin and I are at the hospital with Holden right now—don’t freak out—because there was a small incident at lunch—don’t freak out and fire me please—but! It’s all gonna be okay, they’re already treating her and she’s doing fine now, so don’t freak—”  

“Tell me not to freak out one more fucking time and I’ll castrate Armin and feed you his balls myself.”

“You sound a little freaked out,” Eren placates, wincing and holding his phone away from his ear when Levi growls in response.

“You have five seconds to tell me what you two idiots did to my daughter and explain why I shouldn’t decapitate you immediately.”

“It’s a funny story, actually—so, um, we think Holden might be allergic to nuts…?”

“What do you mean might be, Jaeger?”

Eren can feel his heart in his throat. He eyes Armin on the other side of Holden’s hospital bed. He looks no better—color almost completely drained from his face, but Eren doesn’t think he can say much else to his boss before his knees give out from underneath him.

“Uh, well, it was a lot of technical terms, and—I—um, actually I’m going to let Armin explain!” Eren hurries, all but chucking his phone at the unsuspecting blonde.

Armin’s blue eyes look almost grey with anxiety, but before he can protest, Eren is flailing his hands and pointing fingers and reminding him that Levi will kill them both if he doesn’t start talking.

Reluctant, and terrified, Armin finally lifts the phone to his ear, stuttering out a pathetic hello, but Levi cuts him off before he can say anything else.

“Save it. Send me your location, and pray I don’t kill you when I get there.” Armin chokes out a “yes, sir,” before slowly bringing the phone down to his side.

The good news is that Holden’s allergic reaction wasn’t too severe: her throat had been irritated, and hives had emerged as a result, but it hadn’t been closing up. And luckily, Eren had the endurance to run nearly a mile and half with a four year old tucked under his arm; because with the traffic Armin observed whilst he and Captain huffed and lagged behind, it would have taken thrice as long to get Holden to the ER had they waited and called for an ambulance.

Even better was that Holden was an unnervingly calm kid, even whilst having an allergic reaction. She looked almost back to normal now, save for a few red looking blotches on her neck and upper arm; and seemed more than content to be watching a video on Eren’s phone, despite the situation. She was a little bummed out to find out that she could never eat the new ice cream she liked so much ever again, but she seemed to quickly get over it once Eren reminded her that there were lots of other flavors out there for her to try. Flavors that wouldn’t make her choke to death.

Still, Eren and Armin could probably kiss their jobs goodbye, seeing as they had nearly just poisoned their bosses’ daughter. Holden seemed to like them enough, but, unfortunately, Holden wasn’t the Ackerman who signed their checks.

At the very least, Eren doesn’t think you’ll be too upset with him. He doesn’t think you’ll be ecstatic to hear that while you were away on your already inconvenient work-trip on the other side of the globe, that he also managed to land your daughter in a hospital bed… but you were the more forgiving one. Then again, maybe not so forgiving when it comes to the health and wellbeing of your daughter. 

Eren falls back against the wall in dread. You weren’t even in the same country as him and he was worried about what you might say or do to him. Levi was probably less than twenty minutes away and fully capable of beheading him.

“You… uh, you think the Interior Branch is still looking for interns?” Eren breaks the silence, looking towards Armin, who’s taken the seat next to Holden’s bed, petting Captain robotically as the dog sits in his lap.

“I don’t think it matters,” Armin responds, “They won’t hire corpses.”

Fifteen minutes, and several run red lights later, Levi is bursting through the doors to the pediatric wing of the emergency room. He doesn’t care about the old woman at the reception yelling at him for causing a ruckus, or the other parents, doctors, or visitors eyeing him for marching around like he owned the place. Holden was in there somewhere, and he was going to get to her.

“Holden—oh, god, Holden,” Levi coos, frantic, as he marches into Holden’s room, scurrying to the side of her hospital bed. A cold hand reaches up to stroke her face. Angry, red bumps litter the sides of neck, her cheeks are puffier than usual, and the perimeter of her mouth seems a bit irritated, but Levi is relieved. She’s okay, his baby girl is okay.

“’M fine, daddy,” Holden assures him. She’s almost overly-perceptive for her age, able to pick up on her father’s out of character antics, and does her best to console him. “Eren ran with me all the way here when I started coughing and itchin.’”

Levi nods, the dark grey splotches in Holden’s eyes bringing him comfort, ensuring him that she was okay. “They gave me a shot, and I don’t like needles, but I didn’t even cry at all. Ask, Armin and Eren, they saw! Captain, too.”

“Brave girl,” Levi smiles, reaching his hand up to push her hair out of her face then leans over to press a kiss to her forehead.

Levi had almost forgotten that Eren and Armin were in the room until he hears a blundering cough from behind him. The younger boys look petrified, Eren practically shaking in his shoes, while Armin doesn’t even have the confidence to look him in the eye.

“We’re really sorry, Levi,” Eren apologizes, voice scratchy and wobbly, like he’d been the one to just get a shot, “We didn’t know—and when she started coughing and saying she couldn’t breathe, I swear, I ran here as fast as I could—”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s… fine?”

Levi sighs. Maybe he’d been a little harsh with them on the phone, letting his emotions get the best of him. He’d already been pissed off enough to not have the time to spend with Holden this weekend; hearing that she’d been hurt was just the final push over the edge for him, but it wasn’t necessarily Armin or Eren’s fault.

“I didn’t know either,” Levi exhales, reaching at hand out to pet the top of Holden’s head again, the young girl now distracted once again by the phone in her hand, “She’s never had a reaction to anything before, and neither (Y/N) or I have any strong allergies.”

Armin shuffles where he’s standing. “The doctor said she might be allergic to tree nuts. We, uh, we gave her pistachio ice cream after lunch.”

If there’s anything concerning Levi, it’s that they gave Holden ice cream before dinner, but he supposes he can let it go for now.

“Eren told me to try it, and it tasted good, daddy,” Holden interjects, “Before I started coughing, it was good.”

“Ah, well, you can’t—you shouldn’t eat things that make you feel sick!” Eren stutters loudly.

“But it was good,” Holden pouts, “And you said to try new things, Eri. I won’t know if it makes me sick if I don’t try them.”

Levi holds back his laughter. He knows that Holden definitely wouldn’t want to try the same same flavor again knowing now that she was allergic to it; she was just pulling at Eren’s leg. Levi would have to keep an eye out for the stuff anyway, especially if her oh-so-precious Eren has expressed any former love for it. 

“Um, Levi, sir,” Armin calls, pulling Levi’s attention towards the blonde, “We didn’t know if (Y/N) would have landed already, but do you think you should call her, to, um, let her know?”

Levi’s face pales three shades when he realizes that none of them had already informed you that your daughter was currently hospitalized with a new found allergy.

“You can call her,” Levi says, a shudder in his spine at the thought of relaying this information to you, “That’s your death sentence, not mine.”

[farfromharry]

Hi hi hi!! Love your work! It's genuinely so amazing!

Can you do a roommate!Dylan fic where they hate each other and be sassy towards one another. Continue it like, the reader has had a shitty week overall and when Dylan takes another jab at them, they don't reply and he realises that something is wrong so he consoles them?

angst with fluff ending? Please.

Thank you! :)

Summary: the first time dylan shows any care or concern towards you is when you get dumped, but it brings on a truce between you that you’re actually grateful for

w/c 767

Roommate!Dylan x reader

Despite being roommates, you and Dylan had never really got along. Your relationship with one another was playful and bantery but it worked for you. You didn’t exactly argue or fight, but you did bicker like cats and dogs.

It was something everyone that came over was always a little confused about, why would the two of you be roommates if you couldn’t stand each other, right? But a part of you believed there was always some miniscule part of Dylan that did like and care for you, he was just too proud to give into it now that it wasn’t your dynamic.

The first time your boyfriend came over to your apartment he was more than confused. At first he didn’t like the fact that you lived with another guy, it worried him, but then he heard how the two of you spoke to each other and that worry was partially settled.

The two of you entered your apartment to see Dylan lounging on the couch watching some show, your boyfriend of only a few weeks was obviously taken aback. “W-Who’s this?”

You were so used to ignoring the brunette that you hadn’t even realized he was sitting there. You sighed. “This is Dylan, the biggest pain in my ass ever.”

He waved mockingly, grinning at the man standing there awkwardly. “I’m said pain in the ass, nice to meet you.”

He did still fear that that playfulness was flirting rather than an actual dislike for one another, but he moved on. That same behavior continued every time your boyfriend came over and eventually he got used to the distaste you and Dylan held for one another. But Dylan never thought it’d actually be your boyfriend that would be the reason behind a truce between you two.

The brunette entered your shared apartment one day after a long day of filming, calling out to you playfully to let you know he was home. “‘M back, did you make any kids cry today?”

When he didn’t receive an answer he just assumed you were rolling your eyes at him like you usually did before quipping back a response. “D’you wanna order takeout? I don’t feel like cooking.”

He was left with another lack of response and that was completely unlike you. He knew you were home, your car was outside and he could see your phone in the kitchen, so you had to be. He fell into a pit of fear, wondering if you’d slipped and hit your head or something. He set his stuff down quickly, rushing through the spacey apartment. “Y/N?”

He didn’t find you until he entered your room, without knocking or anything. You were under the covers, curled up and he could barely hear the tiny whimpers escaping your throat.

“Y/N?” he called. There was a hunt of concern in his voice this time he spoke. It was an emotion he had never showcased towards you before. He heard you sniffle quietly and his mood completely flipped, the compassionate, caring Dylan that all your friends told you existed finally making himself known to you. This was the first time you had ever seen him like this and it was strange. “Hey,” he knelt down beside the side of the bed you were on. “What’s going on?”

You frowned, wondering if he really meant it. But when he didn’t say anything, only looking at you with that same care-filled look, you trusted him. “He broke up with me.”

He sighed, he certainly didn’t expect that. He couldn’t say he was a huge fan of the man, but he thought you really loved each other. “Well, he’s an idiot for doing that.”

“You really mean that?” you asked, wiping your wet cheeks with the sleeve of your hoodie. A hoodie that might actually have been his. He smiled softly, nodding his head. “I might be hard on you sometimes, but I do care, Y/N.”

He had never admitted that to you before. You were under the impression that he just put up with you because he had to. Knowing he cared about you actually made you feel a little bit better about the whole thing, and you didn’t want to go back to that piece of knowledge being kept a secret. “I-I think we should call a truce. I don’t like pretending that we don’t care about each other.”

He grinned menacingly. “You care about me?”

“Hey, I’m the one who got dumped, this is supposed to be about me.” You hit his shoulder mockingly. He chuckled. “Right, right. So, truce?”

“Truce.”

dylan o′brien taglist - @hunnybunimdun @taramaria @raajali3

[egcdeath]

second chances

pairing: softdark!steve rogers x reader 

summary: you wake up on the side of the road with no memories, no possessions, and no place to go. luckily, an attractive stranger arrives just in time to help you out. 

word count: 4.6k

warnings: there are some soft moments, but this is ultimately a dark fic!!! alluding to kidnapping, deceit, mention of knife, drugging, abuse (mostly mental/emotional, but implied physical), amnesia, brief alcohol mention, nightmares, mention of bodily harm, bed sharing **if i’m missing any warnings, let me know

author’s note: this is my first dark fic without a dark reader, so please be nice! it took me nearly a whole month to get it where i want it to be (i’m a slow writer, i know) but i’m actually pretty proud of this. 

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

After what seemed like years of waiting, the opportunity finally lent itself, a small pocket knife sat right in your peripheral view. A dangerous mixture of adrenaline and impulse filled you, not even granting you the time to think before you were clumsily extending your arm, and wielding the knife. 

The blade popped out, and you held it with a shaky hand in front of your captor.

“Really?” he scoffed, “you’re gonna kill me.”

There was no attempt on his part to stop you, in fact, he smiled and leaned back slightly.

Your whole body trembled at this point, you could barely form words, let alone move. But this was your chance.

“So do it, Y/N. Kill me,” his voice steadily rose as he approached you, long legs making their way across the room.

Before you knew it, he was standing in front of you, hand approaching your own. He wrapped it around your wrist and gripped down on you like a snake, causing you to emit a tiny yelp.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked, voice steady as your hands trembled around the grip.

“Exactly. You’re still as fucking pathetic as you were the day I met you,” a slap stung your left cheek, a mark that was sure to be there for the days following. 

The knife clattered as it hit the linoleum floor, and you followed its path, crumbling on the floor and breaking into tear-less sobs. 

“Remember this moment, sweetheart. You’ll never get a chance like this again,” he swooped up the knife before walking away from you, leaving a broken woman in his wake.

——

You went from experiencing nothing to everything all at once. Your brain seemed to be attempting to escape your head as it pressed against your eyes, and you struggled to open them, lashes feeling like they were glued together. Rain poured down on your head, and you concluded that it had been pouring on you for a while, as you were completely soaked to the bone. 

As you looked at yourself and your body, a curled up and bruised mess on the side of the road, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly happened to you, or at all. You weren’t even sure that you had memories apart from the ones that were processing in that exact moment. It was as if you’d exited the womb for a second time, clueless to where you were, who you are, or how you got there. 

You shivered as you pulled yourself to your feet, weak ankles shaking in glittery heels and body trembling in a half-torn dress. Wherever you came from couldn’t have been good.

You slipped off the shoes and held them in your hands as you walked down the side of the deserted road, bare feet sloshing in mud as you did so. You didn’t have an idea where you were, or where the nearest sign of life was. You were tempted to walk on the soaked, petrichor scented road, but you knew that that wasn’t your best idea.

You truly had no good options. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. No one to save you. You wanted to collapse back onto the ground, give into your screaming body that was becoming more and more tired by the moment. Hot tears began to slip down your face, contrasting the cold of the raindrops falling onto your body. 

All hope was lost, you’d die any time now, and that would just be it. You looked up at the overcast sky and screamed at it, mentally begging for someone, anyone, to help. That you’d forever be grateful to god, or the universe, or whatever it was that was out there that put you in the situation you were in. 

You screamed and sobbed until your throat was raw, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to produce any more sound, sitting down onto the damp ground and wishing for your inevitable death to be a swift and painless one. 

Yet, your pity party was crashed just moments later by a beaming red light and the soft hum of a motor coming down the road. This was your one chance. Who knew when the next time you’d see a sign of human life was?

You jumped to your feet and waved your hands like a madwoman, trying to catch the attention of the male behind the driver's seat. He began to come to a stop, pulling over a bit to see you better.

His face was angelic, a strong jaw and soft eyes that looked like they had seen more than the average person. When he spoke, you felt heaven become drowsy with harmony. Or maybe you were just really tired. Regardless, your pleas to a higher power had proved fruitful, as your knight and shining armor had just pulled up beside you to save the day.

He rolled a window down, and you got closer to the door.

“Need a ride, ma’am?” he called.

You simply nodded and approached the vehicle, opening the door hesitantly. You sat down on the seat, and jumped a bit when you felt heat radiating onto the back of your thighs.

“I’m Steve. You?” 

You chuckled awkwardly, “that’s a great question that I wish I could answer. It’s actually kind of a long story. Well, I assume it’s long since I can’t remember any of it. But maybe I will later. Nice to meet you anyway, Steve.”

He nodded understandingly, completely unfazed by your lack of name. Maybe he had prior experience with hitchhikers, as he was approaching this situation with a nearly suspicious calmness. “Well… where’re you heading?” the man asked, looking over at you.

“I, uh, I have no idea,” you said raspily, throat still sore from your previous screaming.

The blonde’s lip quirked at this, as if he were holding back a much bigger smile, “that’s fine. I’m heading a few towns away, but I was thinking of stopping and getting some breakfast. You interested in that?”

You shrugged, becoming slightly uncomfortable in the quickly dampening seat. Steve glanced over at you after putting the car in drive, and noticed your discomfort from your prior stay in the rain.

“We can stop by a bathroom first. I’ve got some extra clothes with me in the back,” he suggested. You nodded quietly, looking at the vast, and empty road ahead. 

----

You sat in a diner booth dressed in a thick jacket and comfortable sweatpants that oddly enough, seemed to be exactly your size. Steve approached the table with an extra plate of fries, and set it gently in front of you. 

“So you don’t remember anything?” he asked, stealing a fry before sitting down across from you. 

You shook your head, bringing a salty fry to your mouth, “I swear I just woke up there. No memories, no nothing, no place to go. I mean, I was gonna die out there if you didn’t get me.”

Steve scoffed a bit at this, “that’s not true. I’m sure someone would’ve helped eventually.”

“Maybe. But I’m glad that it was you,” you looked up at him, and the fondness he was looking at you with was nearly suffocating. 

Steve paused for a moment, mulling over his next words as if he was looking for the exact right thing to say.

“Would you like to stay with me? I mean, I know we just met each other, but I just have this feeling. Like I was meant to find you. Besides, it doesn’t seem like you have anywhere else to go.”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you excused after a moment, popping out of the both and heading towards the ladies room.

You handled your business, and stared at yourself in the mirror as you washed your hands. Makeup ran down your face, and it almost appeared that you were melting. Who would pick someone up in such a state? You had to question this Steve guy’s character a little bit. You couldn’t remember the exact phrase, but it couldn’t be smart to get into a car with a stranger. Especially a stranger offering to take you to some secret location with them. After all, he could be a murderer, a kidnapper, or a rapist. You would be none the wiser.

But he fed you, clothed you, and offered you a form of shelter. He couldn’t be too ill intentioned if he was willing to go out of his way to help, right? Maybe he just wanted to keep you off the streets, and that was why he was willing to take you to wherever it was that he was going.

Your stomach turned the longer you watched yourself, the longer you thought. Perhaps your intuition found that something was off. But who even knew if you could trust your intuition, after all, you were basically a day old, and you didn’t seem to have any other option.

——

You ended up going back out into the diner and accepting Steve’s offer. You didn’t really have much of a choice, and he wasn’t exactly a bad one. 

Steve was quiet for the majority of your trip, only speaking when he noticed that you’d moved your sights from the window over to him. He didn’t seem to be a fan of the way you were studying him, but for some reason your eyes kept finding him.

Hours had passed in the day, and night was quickly approaching. You dozed as you watched the starry night from the passenger window. Your eyes were becoming heavier by the moment, hours worth of watching flat landscape, combined with the complexity of your day finally catching up to you.   

——

Cold. You felt cold. The floor was cold. The blood running through your veins was cold. Your brain was cold and freezing, hindering you from properly processing what was going on in front of you. 

A searing pain rolled through your body as you tumbled down the stairs, back into a room that was suffocatingly familiar.

“I should’ve never allowed you to leave. Ungrateful,” a faceless man followed you down the stairs and hovered over your now battered body. “I give you a home and you complain. I take care of you, giving you almost anything you could ever ask for. You complain. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position? With someone like me taking care of them?” 

“You told me you loved me, you goddamn liar. I let you come upstairs, and you try to fucking kill me. I should kill you,” he seethed, leaning down over you.

But I won’t.

The words were unspoken, but familiar. A threat uttered to you before, usually followed with an ‘I’ll make your life a living hell instead.’

You were unable to speak, as if someone had ripped out your vocal cords. Suddenly the faceless man was reaching down and holding the bloody organs in his hands. Your blood ran cold once again. 

“You can’t even fathom the hell I want to release on you right now,” he continued, chest puffing out with exaggerated, angered breaths. “But I’ll be the bigger man. Because I love you,” he dropped the cords on the ground beside you, and your eyes flicked over to the mutilated part of yourself. “Y/N, I need you to prove to me that you love me.”

You wanted to beg, to plead and tell the man whatever he needed to hear in order to release you, but you were completely powerless. 

The man hoisted you up with ease, and you soundlessly whimpered. He carried you into a small, plain room and set you on the flat, stiff mattress on the floor. 

“Come on, Sweetheart. You know I’m doing this for us.” 

The faceless man kissed your forehead, and the feeling of dread overtook you.

——

You awoke with a gasp, clawing at your own neck to make sure that your vocal cords were still intact.

“You alright?” Steve asked, glancing over at you. “Should I pull over?”

“No, I’ll be fine,”  you whispered.

“Take some deep breaths for me, okay?” he advised, setting a reassuring hand on top of yours. “We’ll be at the hotel any minute now.”

——

Your nerves were absolutely fried by the nightmare. Your hands shook like leaves in the wind while you stood next to Steve as he checked you into your hotel room.

“How’re you doing?” he asked in the elevator, setting his large hand on top of yours once again. The gesture was calming, even if you felt a slight undermining feeling of something unsettling.

“A little better. I probably just need to lay down somewhere comfortable.”

Steve nodded and squeezed your hand, “you’ve had a long day. You have first dibs on the shower. Maybe it’ll help you relax.” 

The smile that Steve was giving you was comforting. You felt glad that he was the person to have picked you up.

The elevator made a little ding noise before the doors opened, and he guided you to your room. 

You made a beeline to the shower, not even taking the time to be impressed with the size of the hotel room, the amenities, or the quality of it. You just wanted to shed your clothes and find at least a moment of peace. 

You exited the bathroom after about a half an hour, and walked out into the suite in just a towel. 

“Can I borrow some more clothes?” you glanced over at Steve, who was openly checking you out from the comfort of the bed.

Wait, the bed.

There were way too many things going on for you to be focused on the fact that there was just one bed. Maybe Steve would offer to sleep on the sofa.

“Yeah, that’s fine. My teammate left some clothes in that smaller blue suitcase. It’ll probably fit,” Steve paused for a few moments as you found the aforementioned suitcase and looked for something comfortable that you could actually sleep in.

“Who did that to you?” he asked, gesturing at your bruised legs.

“I don’t… I don’t know. It’s all so blurry,” you sighed, settling on a fresh pair of sweatpants and a thin t-shirt. “I’ll be right back.”

You changed quickly in the residually steamy bathroom, and sat down at the foot of the bed. 

“Do we need to have a fistfight over who gets to sleep in the bed?” Steve joked and you shook your head.

“I can sleep on the sofa, if you want.”

“No way. You deserve something comfortable,” he got out of bed, and approached the bathroom to take his own shower. “Get nice and cozy, friend. You deserve it.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, and you moved up to the top of the bed, slipping under the covers and sighing aloud from relief. Your body was finally having a chance to relax, and the hotel bed was surprisingly comfortable. 

By the time Steve returned from the shower, you were already half asleep, and very unaware of your surroundings.

As you fell out of consciousness, you had blurry visions of confinement, punishments, and pain. You once again woke up with a gasp, but this time Steve was standing over you. 

“Deep breaths, okay? I saw you thrashing and mumbling something to yourself. I think you were having a bad dream.”

You nodded and panted, trying to catch your breath and slow down your hummingbird heart rate. 

“You’re safe, I promise.”

“Can you stay with me?” you stammered out.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve got into bed beside you, and rubbed your back as you curled into a fetal position, “just try to relax, okay? There isn’t anything to fear when I’m here with you.”

You nodded, clutching onto Steve’s genuine tone. Something about him just made you feel… safe, despite the possible red flags around him. 

After Steve got into bed with you, you were finally able to fall into a dreamless and peaceful sleep. 

——

You woke up to an empty and cold bed. You blinked a few times and looked around the room, eyes stopping on Steve as he watched you from the couch, eyes quickly flipping between yourself and the book in his hands in an effort to cover up his staring. 

The whole ordeal made you feel slightly off, but the realization that you were essentially mooching off a stranger felt worse. 

You hopped out of bed and anxiously paced towards the bathroom. “Shit, Steve,” you muttered. “I shouldn’t be taking advantage of you like this. I should probably leave.”

“Where else do you have to go?” Steve almost defensively questioned, frown deep on his face.

You took a deep sigh and shrugged, “I… don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t have to go,” he began, sounding unsure in his words, “stay. With me,” he stood up and walked over to you, grabbing the back of your arm softly. “You’re not taking advantage of me. If anything, you’re helping me. I get pretty lonely on these kinds of missions, so please, stay with me.”

You turned to look at Steve, the deep creases in his face at the thought of losing you. With just a glance, you knew that you couldn’t leave. 

——

The next few days of your life had proved your theory. It was almost alarming how quickly Steve became your anchor in the midst of a new, overwhelming world. 

The first thing that he did for you was tell you what your name was. As confused as you were to how exactly he figured it out, (he told you that he knew some weird tech guy. You were prepared to go with anything), you were grateful that Steve was able to help you out a piece of your old life back together.

He was oddly patient with you as you learned more and more about your surroundings. You were most impressed by the grocery store, and may or may not have spent hours inside of that food palace, spending much more of Steve’s money than was socially acceptable. 

For the next few months, you stayed at a safe house with Steve, spending the majority of your time looking down at your reflection in the lake in the backyard, wondering if your memories could ever come back.

You’d grown closer with Steve in that time as well, he was really the only person that you’d gotten close with since you’d lost your memories. Now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t said more than three sentences to anyone else. By that measurement, your next closest friend was a gas station cashier.

In fact, you’d started dating Steve. Granted, you couldn’t completely wrap your mind around it all, despite the hours of rom-coms you’d watched while Steve was gone on missions. You just knew that you cared a lot about Steve. When he was around you, your heart fluttered. He was the only person you truly felt comfortable with. He protected you time after time, and voiced to you just how much he adored you. 

It made you feel wanted, to know that despite all of the confusion, you still had a place in this world, even if the place was just Steve Rogers’ heart. 

——

Steve arrived at the safe house late at night after nearly a week of being off on another mission. The bed creaked as he got into bed with you, and pressed up against your sleeping form. 

“Steve, sometimes I have these really awful dreams. Mostly when you’re not with me,” you began out of the blue as his arms snaked around you. “It’s always this faceless man just… abusing me. And I can’t even do anything about it because I’m too weak. And I can’t say anything because he stole my vocal cords. It sounds so silly, because it’s all just a dream, but it all feels so real. I just... I need you to promise me that you’ll protect me no matter what. Especially against him.”

“Of course,” he whispered against the back of your head, “I promise that I’ll protect you from him. He’ll never even get the chance to let the thought cross his mind.” 

“I love you, Steve,” you mumbled sleepily, “please never leave me again.”

He’d been waiting to hear those words.

——

Your fingers wrapped around a warm mug while Steve put the finishing touches on your breakfast. He’d decided to go all out that morning, with an impressive spread of food that would put most buffets to shame. For a moment, you questioned if you’d forgotten about some important holiday, or an anniversary.

Steve set a plate down in front of you, then pressed a soft peck to your forehead, “enjoy, sweetheart.”

You grinned softly down at the food, and at the affection, “what’s got you in such a good mood?”

“Just relieved to be back. I don’t like being away from you for too long,” he settled into the seat across from you, and took a sip of his own coffee.

“Mm, you sure? You’re not always this chipper post mission.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head just the slightest bit, “alright. You got me. I wanted to save it as a surprise, but I hate keeping secrets from you,” Steve paused.

“So… what’s the secret?” you pressed, bringing a forkful of food up to your mouth.

“I’m retiring.”

Your eyes widened as you heard the news, and you nearly choked, “are you really?”

Steve simply nodded, “I’m ready for the next chapter of my life with you.”

Your heart fluttered at the sweetness of his gesture, and the slightest hint of nerves. Why was Steve so willing to give up his entire livelihood for someone he knew for less than a year?

You felt bad for questioning his motives, considering that Steve had been nothing but good to you in the time that you knew him. If it wasn’t for him, you probably wouldn’t even be alive. He had proved himself to be an amazing, loving man, who had bent over backwards to keep you safe and comfortable. He trusted you, and it was time for you to do the same.

“I’ve been plotting this for a while, to be honest. You might think this is a little fast, but I even have a permanent place for us to stay.”

You couldn’t find it in you to be skeptical for much longer, your feelings of adoration for Steve overruling your hesitance to jump into something like that with him. 

You smiled softly as Steve spoke, getting up and pacing over to where he was seated so you could give him a hug, “I.. yes, that’s fast, but it’s also kinda amazing,” you sighed softly, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “When are we leaving?”

“Tonight, if that’s alright with you. I was thinking that we could spend the day packing up and… celebrating,” he winked down at you, and you looked up to shake your head fondly. 

“That sounds like a plan,” you gazed at him with adoration, and leaned up to press a soft peck to his lips that was lovingly reciprocated. 

——

Music pounded against your eardrums as you ground against a handsome stranger, one you couldn’t see, but instinctively knew. The smell of sweat, liquor, and sex filled your nose, the rancid combination oddly comforting in a retrospective moment. 

“We’re leaving!” A voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like years informed you. Your face broke into a wide grin when you heard her voice. “But it doesn’t look like you care!” she jeered. “Good luck!” your friend laughed, disappearing in the sea of people. 

“You’re coming home with me, right?” he asked, a hot breath against your cheek. 

You nodded. The words refused to come out. 

“Good,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to your neck.

Out of the blue, you weren’t in the club, but in the small basement room from before, staring at nothing in particular while sat at the edge of your vanity’s seat.

“I’ve tried everything with you,” he commented, leaning against the doorway casually. You felt the need to apologize, to tell your captor that you didn’t mean to do what you did, that you loved him. Plead for him not to punish you. “After months of submission, I thought that we were finally getting somewhere. Why’d you have to throw it all away?” 

Glancing up at the vanity, a woman with sunken eyes, a pained expression, and fading bruises looked back at you, just long enough for you to briefly become that messy, drunken woman at the club once again. 

“I’ve tried everything with you. The easy way clearly didn’t work,” he continued, “you leave me with no other options, my love,” the man sighed, sitting down next to you casually. “I want you to know that I’m doing this for us. You know that nothing good ever comes easy, right?”

The syringe went into your arm like a hot knife through butter, and your muscles clenched as fire filled your body. You went to scream, but your throat was still out of commission. As you went down, your vision and thoughts began to blur before you couldn’t decipher one thing or another. The final noise you could make out was the distortedly slow rendition of It’s Been a Long, Long Time on the record player.

In an out-of-body moment, you watched as the man pulled your relaxed body down to the floor, cautiously pulling the clothes off of you and making you cringe internally at the sight of yourself in such a state. He left your body alone for a moment as he looked through the negligible amount of clothing in your closet, grabbing the same dress from the night at the club and pulling it on your limp figure.

It was torn and messy, not unlike the state it was in when you found yourself conscious. The faceless man muttered something unintelligible to himself before hoisting you up bridal style and taking your body out to the car. 

You watched in terror as this all played out, your slack face looking disturbingly at peace compared to how you’d appeared before. In fact, even in your ghastly state, you felt at peace. 

That peace quickly came to an end as you watched yourself get ditched on the side of the road, and as your body slowly began to twitch back to consciousness, your dream began to fade away.

——

You dragged your suitcase up through the garage, grateful to be at your final destination with the man you’d fallen in love with. You hoped that after moving in, the dreams might finally stop. After all, your dream in the car felt somewhat final. You were trying your best to be as positive as you could manage in such a strange situation, and from the outside, you had to admit that the house was gorgeous.

Stepping inside felt like the worst case of deja vu you’d ever experienced, as if your memories were repairing themself with every millisecond you were in the home, gazing at furniture you hadn’t seen in months, and smelling faint scents that you’d forgotten existed. Feature by feature, the puzzle pieces of the faceless man came together.

The longer you observed, the worse the feeling became. Waves of grief, fear, and pain were rolling over you again and again until you were completely drowning on it. The realization hit you with a ton of bricks: this was the house from your dreams.

Steve came up behind you, snapping you out of your panicked trance. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and squeezed you close to him.

“Ready for the first day of the rest of your life?”

[kimnjss]

just hanging out | jjk

⤑  series: cherry pickers

⤑ pairing: gamer(fuckboi)!jungkook x video vixen(virgin)!reader

⤑ genre: fluff!... some angst at the end if you squint.

⤑ rating: pg13

⤑ word count: 3.9K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: lmao second hand embarrassment probably.

⤑ A/N: hey :( love you all who have been enjoying this story nd sending your thoughts in - they really make my day. so thank youu! let me know what you think x 

FEBRUARY 22ND, 2020 | 16:49

Casual. You're constantly reminding yourself the entire time you're getting ready. This was supposed to be casual. This was not a date. So there was no reason for you to go through the process of getting ready for a date. You didn't shave, just took a regular shower with the regular soaps. 

Spent very little time in the mirror when getting dressed, there was no need for frilly shirts or form-fitting pants. Instead, you settled for a pair of ripped jeans and a hoodie that Taehyung had lost a little while back. Minimum makeup, hair up, and out of your face.

Needed to cement it in your mind that this was not a date. Steal away any reason for you to act like it was one. No matter how much you knew you'd enjoy the whole shebang, candlelit dinner, romantic walk admiring the night sky, kiss on the doorstep – you had to ignore that.

Bottle it up and stuff it down because there were many things you didn't know about Jungkook and the bits you did know weren't great. His shitty friends being at the top of the list. So, until you were sure he wasn't like the lot of them... not dates were what you'd settle for. Because at the end of the day, you wanted to see him.

It's a thirty-minute drive from your house to Jungkook's and you spend the entire car ride agonizing on how this 'not date' was going to turn out. And then immediately scolding yourself for freaking out over something that shouldn't matter as much as you were making it out to be.

For all you knew, he probably was just waking up... barely remembering that he had plans with you. Most likely hopping in the shower just minutes before you were said to arrive. Mmh, Jungkook in the shower. Droplets of water rolling over his tone skin, following the dips and ridges until...

It's hard to shake the image of Jungkook showering out of your head once you've got it there. Even with his insistent need to wear baggy clothes, it didn't take a detective to see that the kid was ripped. No doubt spent hours in the gym working on his arms, his abs, his thighs...

Nope. Not going there. No reason to go there when you were on your way to hang out, innocently hang out with a guy that you were just barely friends with. That's all it was. Two people getting to know each other after clicking the first time they talked. God, the way you clicked with Jungkook was unbelievable. 

He made you laugh. And it was weird because you don't remember ever feeling this comfortable around someone this quickly. Jungkook was different. At least you hoped he was. Instantly, you're shushing your thoughts. Refusing to mentally put so much pressure on something that more than likely become nothing.

Getting your hopes up too early was the reason why people got hurt in the first place. So this wasn't a date. And you weren't going to expect him to treat it as such. Just hanging out to get to know each other. That was it.

That was it. Your new mantra as you shove your car into park, heading up the walkway to his front door. Knocking while repeating those four words to yourself. Casual. That was it.

You're not even waiting a full minute before the front door is being pulled open, revealing a fresh-looking Jungkook. Dark hair falling in pretty waves, on either side of his pretty face. He seems to be glowing and you feel it throughout your entire body when he smiles.

A baggy pink sweatshirt swallows his figure, paired with equally loose gray sweatpants. His house is spotless when he lets you in, obvious that he spent the duration of the morning cleaning. The smell of Lysol still lingered in the air. Even the white socks on his feet seemed oddly clean.

You can't help but smile at the effort, allowing yourself to believe that all the trouble was for you.

Once he's setting your shoes in his extremely organized coat closet, he's leading you through the house. Smiling big as he gives you a mini-tour of the first floor and you swear you're paying attention. You're trying your best at least, but it's hard to concentrate on anything that wasn't how cute he looked.

“And this is the arcade,” He's showing off both rows of teeth with his broad gesture into the room located at the end of the hall. Obviously proud of this part of the tour.

As he should be. When the kid said arcade, that's exactly what he meant. Old school game machines lined the walls, ones that you'd actually find in an arcade. Some games that you've never heard of before. All with the high score name: 'Koo'. A dramatic two-person car racing game tucked in the corner.

There's a curved 90 inch TV mounted on the wall, in front of it on a stand is every game console ever made. He has his laptop set up in the room, with two monitors and two gaming chairs in front of it. In the middle of the room is the most comfortable L shaped couch.

All you can say is, “Whoa.” And he's laughing at your reaction.

“It's my favorite room in the house. Well... aside from,” His eyes shift up, obviously gesturing to upstairs where his bedroom is.

The insinuation has a blush darkening your cheeks, but you choose to ignore it, stepping further into the room with a tiny gasp. “You have Skee-ball!?” He's right behind you as you rush across to the room to where the game is set up. A manicured nail pressing against the start button, grinning wide up at him as the balls roll down.

Bright red numbers flash on the screen, the high score followed by his name: 310...Koo. A smirk instantly settling onto your features as you reach for one of the bright-colored balls. “I'm gonna beat that,” Lifting a finger to point at the numbers on the screen.

Jungkook is letting a loud laugh leave his lips, a pretty smile settling on his features as the sound dies down. “That took me two weeks... good luck,” Drawing your hand back, you release the ball on the swing. Watching as it travels upward toward the slots, dropping right into the gutter.

It takes four throws before you're getting it right, the ball traveling up the slope and directly into the 40 point slot. You're letting out a loud whoop, arms lifting in slight victory.

Eyes wide, you're turning your head to face him. “You saw that!?” You're shocked that he's already looking at you. With this soft lovey look that you were the one to hang the stars in the sky. And it makes you wish that this was a date because if it were you'd be able to let yourself enjoy the feeling that comes with the way that he's looking at you.

But it's not a date. So you don't. Shove the fuzzy feeling away with a shake of your head, reaching for another ball from the rack and thrusting it forward. 

FEBRUARY 22ND, 2020 | 18:08

Jungkook is scary good at games. Like scary good. If he wasn't matching your score, he was doubling it. Didn't even graze his high score in Skee-ball and every game after that was his domain. And he was having fun beating you, the smile growing on his face each time you were crossing your arms with a pout – claiming the game had to be rigged.

Foosball to Car Racing to Dance Dance Revolution (he had way more rhythm than you'd expect). You've settled down quite a bit since you first showed up at his house, finding it easy to relax around him. He was cute when he got competitive, not like you were much of a competition in these games... but it was nice to see him like this.

The scrunch of his nose as he focused on the screen. The cute dimples that popped out whenever he won. And how he mindlessly sat close to you, engulfing you in his sweet scent. There was just something about being with Jungkook that made you feel at ease, could someone who made you that comfortable really be as bad as his trash friends?

His shoulder brushes against yours as he settles further into the comfort of his couch, his thumbs moving over the controller quickly. Implementing combo after to defeat your character. In the fourth round of Mortal Kombat and you've only one once.

“Hey! You said you'd let me win,” He's laughing, not even letting your character get up before the large K.O. letters appear on the screen and his person is giving their little victory remark. A dramatic huff leaves your lips, the controller being tossed to the side to cross your arms over your chest.

All he wants to do is lean in and kiss that pout off your lips. Has wanted to kiss you since he beat you in table tennis. You're so pretty and he can't hold back from moving closer to you, guiding your movements just so he can have an excuse to touch you. And he doesn't miss the way you blush. The cute giggles that you let out when he flirts with you. Making him want to flirt with you more just so he can hear the sound.

“I tried,” He speaks through a laugh, taking in the skeptical look on your face. “I did! You're just so bad,” His eyes watch your fingers move around the controller, switching the screen to the character choice.

Gasping when his words sink in, landing dainty punches onto his shoulder. “You're mean! Rematch. I'm not bad,” Jungkook's pressing start on the game as soon as you both have picked your characters, leaning back against the couch as he instantly starts trying out combos on you.

Your whines and protests are cute. It's all he can focus on when he's supposed to be paying attention to the game. And the shout of triumph you let out when you're managing to knock his character down squeezes at his heart, he can't help but turn to look at the smile on your face.

“Look at you losing!” He's sure his health bar is at the end by now, but he can't tear his eyes away from you. In awe, because how could someone actually look like that? So effortlessly... beautiful? 

The tip of your tongue poked out the corner of your lips, brows furrowed as you work hard to take him down. So wrapped in the game, you don't even realize that he had stopped playing. It's his luck too, no telling how embarrassed he'd be if he was caught staring. Yet, he can't bring himself to look away.

Not until you're jumping up excited, clapping for yourself and your win. “Did you see that?” Your body is whipping around, forcing a surprised look on his face. Worried that you might've caught the way he had been looking at you. “I just fucking destroyed you! You can't even say that was beginners luck, either.”

You're lifting your hand for a high five, which he's happily giving to you. His smile matching yours as you flop down on the couch beside him, thighs grazing over each other and he feels it in his chest. “Do you want a chance to redeem yourself?”

Not even a minute is spared for him to answer because you're already starting up a new round. He's got his game face on now, shaking himself out of the daze. “Can you believe I just kicked your butt?” There's this taunting look on your face and all he wants to do is lean over and kiss you.

He takes for teasing you instead. Noticing your ridge posture that he had commented on in your picture. “I don't know how,” A large hand reaches over to touch your back, your body automatically leaning into his touch. “Your form is all off, it had to be luck.” Just a bit of pressure is applying to your back and you're slouching forward.

With a laugh, you're rolling your eyes – reaching a hand back to swat his away. “Watch me beat you like this too. I'll even let you pick my character,” You've been using the same girl since you started playing while he's surfed through the entire catalog. He's taking you up on the offer, picking one of the bulkier characters that don't do all the jump moves you seem to love so much.

And you still beat him.

This time distracted by the frustrated rants from you whenever your guy doesn't do what you tell him to. Time runs out and he ends up having less on his health bar and you're taking that as a proper win, lifting your hand for another high five.

Jungkook congratulates you quietly, more so trying to figure out just what was going on inside his chest. He's had girls over before. In much more intimate settings than this... but never has he felt like his heart was about to burst through his chest. This unbearable feeling to be close to you and it's quickly becoming all he can think about.

You're just so pretty. And you look oddly sexy in your sweats. But it's not just that. There's something else that he can't really place that's pulling him to you. Making it hard for him to stop thinking about stupid things like holding your hand or kissing your cheek. Imagining if days like today were the norm and after he'd grow tired of playing games, you'd let him stretch out his head in your lap – playing with his hair.

And it has to be crazy because this was only the first time the two of you were alone. The late-night texts being all he had to back up knowing you, but at the same time, he felt like he knew you. Like he's known you well. He can't describe it either, but he's almost positive that you feel the same.

“Are you hungry? Should we order a pizza?” You've already whipped your phone out, reluctantly putting a bit of space between the two of you as you scroll through your phone. Jungkook is quick to agree, fingers moving over the buttons on the controller to switch the TV.

No idea why he all of a sudden feels so nervous. “Sure,” He's managing to mumble out, but you're not listening. Already putting together a pizza for both of you. “Do you, uhm... do you wanna watch a movie? Something on Netflix?” Your thumb is stilling on the screen at the mention of Netflix.

Yoongi's playful warning ringing loudly in your mind. 'Playing video games was just Netflix and Chill with more steps,'. But there was the chance that he was actually tired of playing games and wanted to watch a movie with you. It didn't have to be that serious, you had been going at it for hours.

“Yeah, go ahead. Pick something.” His body slouches back on the cushions, scanning through the movies halfheartedly before choosing a random one with a really long title. After tapping his fingers against the screen, the neon orange lights in the room are dimming. A comfortable warmth settling around you.

Jungkook watches as you take your time putting the order together. The beginning credits playing on the screen and he's not even paying attention, too busy with his eyes glued to you. “I got meat lovers, you like that, right?” Setting your phone aside, you allow yourself to sink into the comfort of the cushions. 

“Mmh, my favorite.” Not a lie. It really was. And the fact that you had chose it without knowing just added to everything about you that made him want to kiss you. A small smile spreads across your lips as you nod, turning your attention to the screen in front of you.

The two of you sit side by side, watching the characters on the screen, but you're not listening. It's hard to hear over the pounding in your chest. The nervous bounce of his leg as if he was waiting for something. And you have no idea what because the pizza is no where near being on its way.

A pretty girl is in an argument with her male lead, something about debt and you're trying your hardest to follow the storyline. Although, you have no idea what this movie is and why he picked it. 

It's the thick yawn from beside you that catches your attention, Jungkook's arms lifting over his head in a stretch. You don't think much of it, other than the fact that he's being a little dramatic with his stretch. Until the arm closest to you is dropping down, not at his side like it had been before but around your shoulders – gently tugging your body into his side.

“Did you just do the yawn move on me?” You can't help but laugh. Even through the darkness, you can see the pink tint on his cheeks. “Shh, this is my favorite part.” You're actually positive that he's never seen this movie before, but don't put up a fight. Instead, you let yourself lean into his chest.

He's warm. And smells like flowers. His eyes don't move from the screen as he's reaching down, soft hands reaching for the outside of your knee. Slowly, he's lifting your legs onto his lap, only glancing in your direction briefly to gauge your reaction. Leaning back when there's no sign of you wanting to move.

“Your feet are so small,” Toes curling at the random attention, you're leaning over to reach for his face attempting to pull his focus. “Don't make fun of them! What the heck?” He's laughing loudly at you, allowing you to move his head. Shifting his focus from your feet to his face.

Your fingers are cold against his warm skin, but he can't keep himself from leaning into your touch. “They're cute.” Big eyes scan over your face, smiling softly when they're landing on yours. “You're cute.”

Almost instantly, the atmosphere in the room seems to shift. And you're not sure how he did it, but the way he was looking at you, the soft whisper in his voice... you can't but melt in his strong arms. Basically sat in his lap and it's nice. Jungkook takes his time with inching forward, entering your space which has your hand falling from his face.

He's quick to replace your hand with his one your cheek, tilting your head up toward his. You're sure he's going to kiss you. It's obvious with the slight pucker of his lips, the droop of his eyes, he's tapping a rhythmic beat against your knee ten times faster than the rush of your heart. He was going to kiss you.

Jungkook was going to kiss you and it felt like you couldn't breathe. Nerves on a ten because this wasn't even supposed to be a date. And now you were in this situation and you weren't the least bit unhappy about it. You wanted him to kiss you and it's a new feeling that you don't fully understand. It freaks you out.

Just inches from your lips and your face is twisting up, head jerking back before he can reach you. “What are you doing?” Instantly hating yourself for the embarrassed look on his features that slowly morphs into a puppy dog pout.

“I was going to kiss you...” Jungkook mumbles out sheepishly, dropping his arm from your body to push his hair back. Making an effort to put some space between the two of you, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong.

Because in his mind he had done everything right. Had been making you laugh all night, set some type of mood, told you that you were cute. And you seemed to be enjoying yourself... so what was he missing?

“Why would you do that? This isn't a date, Jungkook.” The mantra that you thought you had worked into your head seemed to be slipping. Not sure when you had forgotten what this was supposed to be, but now it was all rushing back to you.

The reasons you had rejected going on an actual date with him in the first place. And the realization of how stupid you were to think that this was a proper substitute for it. No matter what you decided to call it, it didn't erase the fact that this... tonight, with him... felt like a date.

And it wasn't supposed to.

“Do you kiss all the people you just hang out with?” It's wrong to put the blame on him and only him, but you can't help it. You're a mess in your head for a plethora of reasons, because it had been obvious. How he was looking at you, his arm around you, your legs in his lap... everything that you decided to ignore.

But in the same breath, he told you this wasn't a date... so why bother with all sweet shit. Turning movies on for one reason. Maybe you were reading too deep into all of this? Maybe you were overreacting. Jungkook didn't act like his friends when he was with you, maybe he was really different.

“Oh, come on, Yn... are you being serious?” He doesn't look all too embarrassed anymore, just a little bit sad from the rejection. It's fine, though. He'll live. “Dead serious, Jungkook. You got me here saying this wasn't a date. You need to stick to that,” You felt strongly on that part.

You had told him you didn't want to go on a date with him and even though this 'not date' was literally the same thing, he shouldn't act as if you had said yes to a date. Right? He should keep his word, that way things wouldn't get messy. Like right now.

Jungkook seems to put it together in his head, nodding his head in agreement – yet, the pout doesn't leave his lips. “Alright, alright. Fine. My bad,” He's tugging at the rolls of fabric on his sweats, avoiding eye contact with you. Dark hair covering his eyes, all you can really see is the pink of his lower lip.

And you feel bad, even though you know you shouldn't. It's not like you would've hated kissing him. It was just too nerve-racking to think of doing right now. You didn't quite understand it yourself, so there was no way you could go and explain it to him.

Instead, you're extending a finger. Poking the tip of your nail into his knee. “Don't pout. Come on, you'll miss the best part.” Referring to the movie that you're both watching for the first time, but it has a smile pushing onto his lips. His head lifting and gaze shifting onto the TV screen.

“Sorry,” He mumbles out after a moment, but you're not sure if he's apologizing for the almost-kiss or something else. Either way, you're flashing a genuine smile in his direction, lifting a hand to playfully shove at his shoulder. “Don't worry about it. It's fine,”

It really was.

— known for your body and surrounded by rumors about your sex life… rumors that he doesn’t think to doubt. until he’s meeting you… forced to realize there’s much more to you then the thonged shorts and lacy costumes.

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!

[samwritesstuff97]

All Bets Are Off: Chapter 2

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC!Penny's Niece

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Word Count: 2359

A/N: Here's chapter 2! We're starting to get a little Rooster/Eliza bonding action! This one is also mostly fluff and restrained flirting, but what can I say? Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorite books!

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*

“Eliza, come over here for a second!” Penny called.

“What’s up, Aunt Penny?” Eliza walked over to Penny behind the Hard Deck’s bar, where she was standing in front of Phoenix, Hangman, Bob, and Rooster, smiling.

“These lovely sailors were just wondering what you were doing on Sunday!’

“Well, lovely sailors, what's your plan for Sunday, and I’ll try and pencil you in!” Eliza asked.

“We’re having a beach day, and thought you might want to join! There will be beer and burgers, and if we’re lucky, maybe the gentleman will put on a show for us in the form of a shirtless football game.” Phoenix chirped.

Eliza clapped her hands excitedly, “Oh, I’d love to! Thank you for inviting me!”

“If you’re coming, there will definitely be some football played. Not to flex, but I am pretty good at football.” Hangman sat back, looking proud of himself.

“Cool.” Eliza turned away from him and back to Phoenix. “Let me give you my number, and you should text me the details!”

“Sure!” Phoenix handed Eliza her phone and she put in her number.

Eliza clapped her hands again, “I’m so excited!” She grinned at them all again before walking away.

Hangman turned to Phoenix with a deadly serious look on his face. “I will pay you twenty dollars to give me her phone number.”

Phoenix held her phone to her chest, “Are you kidding me? Fuck off.”

“Please, Phoenix! Twenty five dollars!”

“Hell no.”

Rooster snorted into his drink. “Do you have something to add, Rooster?” Hangman growled, not taking his eyes off Phoenix.

“Just that I can’t imagine asking someone to give me someone else’s number instead of asking them myself.” Rooster said.

Hangman looked at him, “You’ve yet to say more than five words in a row to her, Rooster.”

Rooster shrugged, “Maybe I’m playing the long game, and not hitting on her while she’s at work in front of her aunt.”

“I’m not even hitting on her, I’m just talking to her.”

“Well…” Bob raised his eyebrows at Hangman. “You do kind of hit on her.”

Hangman threw up his hands in defense. “That’s just how I talk!”

Rooster laughed, “That’s not how you talk to me.”

“Well, you’re special, Roostie.” Hangman slipped an arm around Rooster’s shoulder, which was quickly slapped away.

“Just wait until Sunday.” Rooster rolled his eyes at Hangman.

Swelteringly hot and without a cloud in the sky, Sunday was the perfect day for the beach. Rooster pulled into the parking lot and waved at Phoenix who was getting out of her car at the same time. “Hey Rooster!”

“Morning, Phoenix!” Rooster started to ask if Eliza was there yet, but stopped himself, suddenly embarrassed for some reason.

Eliza smirked at Rooster. “She’s not here yet, but I told her I would meet her here at the steps, you could wait with me.” She gave him a wink, “Just if you want to.”

Rooster cleared his throat and nodded. “Sure, I can wait.” He said, trying and failing to seem nonchalant.

Moments later, a red eighties Ford Escort zipped into the parking lot, and Eliza hopped out, waving when she saw them. Rooster’s heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly got extremely nervous. What’s wrong with me? I can break mach 9 in a tiny plane, but I’m scared of Penny’s niece? 

“You should try to look less nervous.” Phoenix whispered.

“Shut up.” Rooster hissed, smiling at Eliza.

“Hey guys!” Eliza called, Rooster’s heart was pounding. She was wearing a black bikini top and denim cut offs with her long red hair in two braids, and her eyes hidden behind round sunglasses. She holds up a box of White Claws. “I come bearing booze!”

Phoenix cheers and hugs her, then holds her at arm’s length. “Your body is fantastic, Eliza! And I love all your tattoos!”

Rooster forced himself to look away as Phoenix and Eliza chatted. He’d noticed the tattoos swirling around her arms and scattered around her legs, but most of her torso was covered in tattoos, with a large floral piece wrapping around her ribs, birds on her collar bones, and vines covering her hip and poking out from under her shorts.

“How are you today, Geraldo?” Eliza asked, gently punching his bicep.

Rooster cleared his throat again. “Uh, I’m great. H-how are you?” He stammered.

“I’m excited to be at the beach! Is anyone else here yet?” Eliza asked, looking around.

“It looks like Hangman is here, and I think Bob should be here any second, and a couple of other pilots came along, Coyote, Fritz, Payback, and Fanboy. We needed some more hard bodies– I mean bodies– for football.” Phoenix winked at Rooster.

Rooster noticed Eliza was looking at him, and if she hadn’t been wearing sunglasses, he might have noticed her eyes raking over his body hungrily. “Hard bodies, alright?” She said, “I think I’m going to like this island.”

Phoenix threw an arm around her shoulder, and they started walking to the beach. “The island already really likes you.” Phoenix laughed.

“What does that mean?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Well hello, ladies!” An already shirtless and shiny Hangman called as they approached. “You’re both looking amazing.” Rooster rolled his eyes as Hangman flexed his pecs at Eliza and Phoenix.

“Thanks, Hangman.” Eliza said hesitantly.

“Well now that the party has arrived, let’s team up for football. Maybe Coyote, Fritz and I versus Fanboy, Payback, and Rooster?” Hangman said, smirking at Rooster.

“Doesn’t Bob want to play?” Eliza asked.

Hangman, Rooster, and Phoenix laughed. “No, Bob doesn’t play football, believe it or not.” Phoenix replied. “And we had better get out of the way, we’re in the sweat splash zone here, and it looks like someone has already set up our spot.” Phoenix gestured over to the beach chairs a few yards away.

“You’re very welcome.” Hangman bowed.

“Aw, thanks Hangman!” Eliza grinned at him, and Rooster felt a tug of anger in his gut as he watched Eliza and Phoenix sit down.

Eliza opened up a White Claw, “So,” she turned to Phoenix. “Is Hangman…you know… like that all the time or am I special?”

Phoenix laughed, “Yes to both. Hangman doesn’t meet a lot of women who haven’t already heard about him, so he gets excited and ruins his chance to make a good first impression. He’s an ass, but he means well, mostly, at least.” Hangman was attempting to get Coyote to tackle him across the beach as they got ready for the football game.

Eliza nodded, watching silently as Rooster slipped off his Hawaiian button down, then the wife beater he was wearing. “Well, that’s semi-comforting. And what’s the deal with Rooster?” Phoenix cocked an eyebrow. “What? You didn’t raise your eyebrows at Hangman, why Rooster?”

“No reason, just noticing who you’re asking about is all.”

Eliza shook her head and started to respond as Bob walked up, “Hi all!”

“Bob’s here! Bob’s my favorite, take note of that.” Eliza winked at Phoenix over her sunglasses.

“Oh yay for me!” Bob said, plopping down in the sand in between their chairs. “I see football is starting.”

Rooster stretched his shoulders out, rolling them out gently. Hangman jogged over to him. “Did you notice how much Eliza liked my little set up over there?”

“Cool.” Rooster grunted, then jogged over to Fanboy and Payback. “We have to kick his ass, right?”

“Fuck yes.” Fanboy said, watching Hangman and Coyote attempt to make up some sort of touchdown handshake, “I don’t know what your reason is, and I don’t care, I’ll just take any opportunity to wipe the smile off his face, especially in front of someone like her.” Fanboy nodded his head at Phoenix and Eliza, who smiled and waved at them.

“You gentlemen want to play some football, or are you just going to keep dancing around?” Hangman called, holding a football.

“Let’s do this, jackass!” Payback replied, and he, Fanboy, and Rooster walked over to where Hangman and Coyote were already assuming the starting position.

Rooster crouched down in front of Coyote who was preparing to snap the ball to Hangman. “Hey ladies! Be sure to pay attention to what a real man looks like!” Hangman called to Eliza and Phoenix.

“Will you let us know when he shows up?” Eliza called back, bringing a smile to Rooster’s face and a shocked frown to Hangman’s.

As the guys started the football game, Bob turned to Eliza, “So, what brings you to North Island from…”

“Los Angeles, and uh…” Eliza chuckled, “To make a long, complicated story short: I was engaged, found out he was cheating, and just generally looked around and realized that I wasn’t happy with most of my life. Then, I was chatting with Aunt Penny one day, and she mentioned that she was looking for help at the Hard Deck, and I thought what better way to get out of the rat race than to go back to bartending with my aunt on a little island where there is a zero percent chance of running into anyone I knew.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, until Phoenix took a deep breath, “Oh, well I’m sorry we made you talk about it.”

Eliza shook her head, “No, it’s totally fine! Everything happened with Grady like seven months ago, so I’m very over it. I’m mostly just relieved that it happened before we got the law involved, you know?”

Bob wrinkled his nose, “His name was Grady? Ew.”

“I agree.” Eliza laughed.

Then, there was a loud cheer from one side of the beach. Rooster had scored a touchdown, and was doing a little happy dance on one side of the beach. “Ladies and Bob, I give you ‘real man,’ exhibit A.” He called.

Eliza applauded and called back, “Yay Geraldo!”

Rooster gave her finger guns, and then cringed at himself, trying to play it cool as he turned to Hangman, going from finger guns to flipping him off. “I’ve got a nickname.” He hissed to Hangman.

“Oh yeah, and it’s such a great one. How do you know she didn’t forget your name?” Hangman spat, clearly furiously jealous.

“I’ll know for sure that she remembers when she’s screaming it later.” Rooster said smugly.

Hangman just grunted and shoved past Rooster. “Alright, come on! Let’s keep playing!” He yelled.

The game continued, with Rooster scoring another two touchdowns, Hangman scoring two touchdowns, and Playboy scoring one, and ended with Rooster’s team thoroughly defeating Hangman’s.

“Well Hangman, it looks like Rooster is the real man after all.” Eliza said, smiling innocently at Hangman.

"She remembers my name!" Rooster mouthed to Hangman over her shoulder.

Hangman rolled his eyes, “I’m not sure football is the best metric for what a real man is.” He grunted.

Eliza’s smile grew, “You seemed pretty sure earlier!”

Phoenix and Bob were holding back laughter as Hangman visibly struggled to come up with a response. “Yeah, well anyway, let’s get drunk!” He grabbed a beer and shotgunned it, cheering along with the rest of the group after crushing the can between his hands.

Rooster caught Eliza’s eyes skimming over Hangman’s arms with a small smile on her face, and a doom dart pierced his stomach. Rooster cleared his throat, “Hear, hear!” He grabbed a bottle of beer and raised it, and the rest of the group followed suit. Feeling eyes on him, Rooster looked up and saw Eliza looking at him with an inquisitive look on her face; he grinned at her, and she grinned back, her bright blue eyes sparkling. Rooster felt himself blushing under her steady gaze, and felt like an embarrassed teenager for a moment.

After hours of laying out and running around like kids in the surf, the sun had set and the group was sitting around a small fire. Bob stood up and said, “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m absolutely starving. I’m thinking about pizza and beer at Ricci’s.”

As everyone murmured their assent, Rooster found himself watching Eliza as she sipped on her bottle of water, her eyes glowing in the light of the fire. A warmth spread throughout Rooster’s body that had nothing to do with the fire, and he suddenly felt very determined to win the bet, not just to beat Hangman at his own game, but because he felt like he really wanted to pursue Eliza.

Hanging back from the group, Rooster waited on Eliza who was picking up some pieces of trash that had been left behind on the beach. When she noticed him, Eliza smiled and waved, and Rooster suddenly realized how alone they were. “You’re a better person than we are!” He called.

Eliza shook her head slightly, “Just kind of a hippie, I guess. Leave it better than you found it, and all that.” She glanced around, also noticing they were alone on the beach, “Are you waiting on me?”

Rooster nodded, “I wanted to walk you to your car, you know, in case of any murderers on the beach.”

“What a gentleman!” Eliza tossed the trash in the can and jogged up the beach to where Rooster was standing. They walked in silence for a moment, then Eliza asked, “So, where did ‘Rooster’ come from?”

Rooster hesitated. “It’s an old locker room joke, I guess.”

“Well, wasn’t that cryptic?” Eliza chuckled.

How do I answer this? Rooster thought. “So, um… well, it’s because…hmm” He trailed off.

Eliza shrugged, “I’ll just ask Hangman then.”

Rooster panicked for a moment, “He may or may not tell you the truth.”

They had arrived at Eliza’s car. “Well, this is me! I’ll see you at the restaurant?”

Rooster nodded. “I dig your ride, by the way.”

“Thank you! I’m thinking that from your general vibe, you may be a fan of the eighties.” Eliza said, looking him up and down.

“I guess so.” Rooster said, finding himself resisting the urge to kiss her. “I’ll, uh, see you there.” He hurried away before he embarrassed himself.

“Bye Geraldo!” Eliza called, and Rooster grinned to himself as he got into his car.

*

I really hope y'all enjoyed this latest installment! Chapter 3 is coming soon! As always, my inbox is open!

*

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[hollandsmushroom]

EAT ME

JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: Smut, pure smut with a tiny but of plot if you look with a magnifine glass

Word count: 2.1k

The two of you were out on the HMS  Pogue with the rest of the guys and you were sitting there, your legs slightly spread as you eyed JJ, your core unintentionally starting to get slick. He was shirtless and laughing at something John B. had just said, his abs flexing as his chest shook. You looked away, knowing that you couldn't take it much longer or you might just snap, you watched as the reds swayed in the wind  took a long sip of your beer, searching for any distraction from the growing heat between your legs. JJ looked over at you, an air of worry overtaking him as he saw your demeanor, slightly shaken, bouncing your leg up and down, even with thr concern he couldn't help but admire as your thighs jiggled. He quickly realized that his worry was missplaced, his eyes fell upon your heat, a wet spot forming on your maroon swimsuit bottoms and your lip trapped between your teeth as you looked anywhere but him. He smirked to himself as he stood up. Walking towards you and placing himself in the empty space next to you on the edge of the boat, his shoulder pressed to your.

"You okay, baby?" He hummed, rubbing his hand up your inner thigh

"Yeah, totally" you said, still not meeting his gaze. His finger flicked out, gently running over you folds through your swimsuit. A moan caught in the back of your throat, you coughed instead, as to avoid the attention of the other pogues.

"JJ," you muttered in a warning tone as his finger kept softly grazing over your clothed core.

"Hmm" he grinned at you, proud of how he made you feel, "What made you feel like this, who made you this wet?" He just wanted to hear you say it, that he made you this much of a mess but you didn't want to give him that, not as he was taunting you in front of your friends.

"John B. I mean look at those abs,"  you hissed meeting his gaze. A fire lit behind JJs eyes as the words sank in.

"Is that right?" He spoke, standing up from his seat next to you and going to it the wheel of the boat.

"Guys, we gotta go home, Y/n isn't feeling well" the rest of the pogues looked at you concerned but you just waved them off, knowing what JJ was up to.

"Its just heat exhaustion, nothing laying down in a cool room wont fix," you assured them. You were back at the Chateau within minutes, JJ gathering your stuff and walking it to your car.

"Bye guys," you called out to the pogues, reaching for the driver's side door but JJ stopped you.

"Nope, you're not driving, even though you made up the heat stroke thing, you look a little flushed" he chided cupping your pussy, you gasped at the sudden contact nodding as you made your way over to the passenger side. As soon as you sat down JJs hand was on your thigh, massaging the flesh as he pulled out of the drive way and started back to your house, knowing you're parents were at work and the house would be empty.

You sat in silence, too focused on the boys hand on your thigh to come up with words, god did JJ make you flustered. His hand started making it's way further up your thigh until he slid his fingers under the fabric of your swimsuit bottoms, tapping your clit causing you to jolt and let out a string of curses. You looked at him, his jse clenched, eyes on the road, knowing all he wanted to do was look at you. He tapped you clit again, this time you arched your back out and closed your eyes.

You pulled into your drive way, your hand immediately finding the small plastic fob and pressing the button to release you from the seat belt. You grabbed your things and followed JJ to the door seeing as he still had your keys. He quickly unlocked the door, reaching back and grabbing your hand, he pulled you into him, lips attaching to his as he kicked the door closed. You dropped all your stuff right there as he started walking the two of you to your room, his hands tracing your sides, running underneath the cup of your bikini top and grazing over your hard nipples making you gasp into the kiss, you could feel his smile in response. As soon as you reached your room his hand left your breast, reach around behind you and skillfully untying the bikini from you, it quickly fell to the floor, your bare breasts pressed against the ratty grey shirt that he wore. His lips left yours and dragged down your body, kissing his way down your neck, sucking each of your nipples before continuing farther down, he left a trail if wet open mouth kisses along the hem of your bottoms before he pulled them down and standing back up.

His hands on your shoulders he pushed you back, your knees buckling on the edge of the bed making you fall back onto your mattress. Looking you in the eye, he placed a knee between your spread legs, dragging a hand up your thigh to your heat as the other hand propped him above you. His fingers danced centimeters from your core but not quite touching it until he did, his fingers delving deep inside of you as he stared you in the eye.

"Now, Y/n, I'm gonna ask you one more time, who made you this wet?"

"Oh fuxk, JJ you did, you made me this wet" you moaned at the feeling of his fingers in you, but as quick as they were in you they were gone and JJ wasnt infront of your face and more, his head was between your legs, grapping your thighs and pulling you so your butt was almost off the edge of the bed, putting your legs on his shoulders and grabbing your ass with both hands.

"That's what I thought" his breath fanning over your sensitive heat making you twitch, but the twitch quickly morphed into a jolt as he went in, his mouth licking a hot stripe through your core.

His lips attached to your clit, sucking harshly on the bundle of nerves, your hips jerking up against his face once but he place a calloused palm on your lower belly, keeping you still.

His other hand that had previously been grabbing your ass, traced it's way up your leg, from your foot to the back of your knee and the soft flesh of your inner thigh, finally dancing in the crevice between your folds and thigh, you twitched slightly at the delicate touch, fingers moving to just below his chin, separating your folds and tracing your entrance. He dipped the tip of two fingers in, like he had earlier, but this was different, there was intense action behind his movements. Pushing his fingers out, spreading them just enough to stretch your walls before pushing himself knuckle deep in your cunt.

"JJ!" You screamed, thighs locking around his head and the sudden fullness, his knu keys dragging against your walls as he started to pump JJ's fingers in and out. The noise it made was vulgar, your juices, his tongue, your moans, his fingers.

You grabbed down to between your thighs, tugging on his dirty blonde locks, pulling at it from the roots causing him to moan in pleasure into your pussy. The sudden vibration, the rapid pace of his fingers fucking you, and his slightly chapped lips sucking on your clit, flicking under the hood with his tongue, sent you over the edge suddenly. A feeling like no other youd felt took over your body, thighs shifting  around JJs head but he didnt stop his work, in fact it made him go harder, his teeth grazing over your swollen bundle, biting softly and sucking it from. stern his teeth, fingers still pumping in and out of you at a rapid pace, milking your orgasm for every ounce of pleasure he could make you feel.

When you finally came back down, back flattening against the mattress as your back straightened from the arch it had been in. Your chest rose and fell steadily causing your breasts to jiggle, something that didnt go unnoticed by JJ as he reached out and tweaked a nipple causing your eyes to snap open and look at him.

He looked wild, his face was slightly wet from your juices and some had even dripped onto the collar of his shirt, his hair was a mess from your fingers carding through it, his lips were plump and swollen, redder than they usually were, but the thing that caught your eye was the bulge in his pants, a wet spot on the cloth that covered his tip as he leaked precum.

You sat up, breasts falling as you did, JJ also eyed this, just as he had the jiggle when you were panting. Reaching your hand out you hooked your fingers in the waist band of his board shorts, pulling the down to leave him exposed. His dick seemed to be throbbing, precum covering the tip. JJ took his shirt off as you admired his cock, leaving him stark naked in front of you, you're favorite sight to see. You pumped his dick a couple times, smearing the precum across the tip of his dick with your thumb, his head fell back as you did this a hoarse moan leaving his lips.

"Fuck me" he groaned, biting his lip.

"I intend on doing that" you giggled, looking up at him.

"Yeah?" He asked prompting a nod from you, "Well I was planning on fucking you" he chided

"Well good thing it's a team effort" you whispered as he bent down, lips close to yours, almost touching as you spoke.

"That is a good thing" his lips crashed against yours, the force of the kiss pushing you back down onto the bed, lips abs tounges clashing as your body's pressed against each other. He had one had cupping your cheek, stroking the soft skin with the pad of his thumb as the other hand slid down between your bodies, grabbing hold of his dick and positioning it at your entrance.

He pulled back, looking into your eyes for assurance which you gladly gave him. He pushed into you quickly, a short gasp escaping your lips, his fingers were one thing but his dick was entirely another. Your walls stretched further, and it felt like amazing. JJ started to move, his hips rocking against yours as he held himself above you, watching your face as he fought to keep his eyes open, the pleasure instinct being to close them. He like watching you, your eyes clamped shut as you but your lip, hands looking for anything to hold onto, something to ground you from the pleasure of his dick in your cunt. Your hands found his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh leaving light crescent shaped marks on his biceps. You were both sensitive, but that didnt stop JJ, his hips picking up speed as your walls pulsed around him, he could tell that your orgams was building so he held back his, fighting through it, his hands making fists in the blankets.

You felt him in you, the sensitivity you had already felt and the closeness to the man you love adding to the rapid nature of the building of your orgasm. You knew that neither of you could last much longer but god did it feel so good. The fire lit in the pit if your stomach threatening to spill at any moment and flow through your blood stream, igniting every nerve ending in your body with an inescapable pleasure.

"JJ I'm gonna...I'm gonna cum" you barely got the words out as the world shut out completely, your body engulfing in the flames of ecstacy as JJs did the same above you, your walls squeezing him tight as he came deep inside you. The both of you stayed like that for a while, hips still rocking as you rode every moment of your highs together.

He soon pulled out falling onto the bed beside you and pulling you into his bare chest, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead as he brushed some hair out of the way.

"I love you, Y/n" you turned your head up, looking deep into his eyes.

"I love you too, JJ"

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 1: At First Sight

Pairing: hitman!jk x female reader

Genre: E2L, romance, angst, drama

WC: 4.5k

Warnings for this chapter: alcohol consumption, language, stalking kind of? I think that's all lol. Pls let me know if there is anything else I should put.

tag list; @teresaisla @hopekookies @moonchild1 @barbellastyles98 @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @yukiehyukie

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn't sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn't his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger. 

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A bright smile graces your features as you tuck the little star-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into a tiny container, just barely getting two of them to fit as you squish them down a tad bit in order to get the lid clipped on.

Then you grab a little tangerine and a cheese stick to drop into your lunch bag along with the sandwiches, counting the number of items aloud to yourself as they make themselves at home and then you zip it all up.

"Th-There we go!" You lift your lunch for the day in triumph.

Your phone startles you when it starts to ring, then you grapple in your purse to find it. You pull it out and answer right before the last ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, girl! Are you ready to go? I'm downstairs." The voice of your best friend comes through the phone and you look at the clock on your microwave. You stare at the little black screen, confused as to why the time isn't showing up before remembering that you were never able to figure out how to display the clock when you bought the microwave three years ago. So, you hold your phone out to look at the time.

6:32

"Oh geez! I didn't r-realize the time. I'll be d-down in a minute, k?" You say, earning a lighthearted laugh from the girl on the other end.

"Take your time, hun. I'm not in any rush."

You thank her quickly and hang up, then you run to your room to grab your favorite pink cardigan and throw it on over your white shirt. As you're hurrying out and grabbing your lunch, you stumble and knock your knee into an open lower cabinet that you had forgotten to close the previous night after pulling a pan from it to make dinner.

"Ouch!" You hiss in pain and rub the sore spot, although it does nothing to ease the ache. Then you grab your purse and run outside, almost forgetting to lock the door. But you remember just in time and clumsily lock it before rushing down the stairs leading to the parking lot of your apartment complex.

Your best friend, Mina, is laughing. You can see her through the windshield as she waves to you. Lifting a hand to wave back, you don't realize in time that your arms are full. You drop your lunchbox and have to crouch to get it again, only taking up even more of your time.

But Mina finds it hilarious and tells you so as soon as you slide into the car and fumble with your seatbelt to get it buckled.

"Honestly, ___. I can't believe you're still single. If I wasn't straight as a board, I'd be head over heels for you and all your shenanigans." She states in a matter-of-fact tone as she pulls out of the parking spot.

A blush creeps up your neck and you try to laugh it off, "D-Don't be silly." You whisper, turning your gaze outside to look at the fluffy white clouds decorating the sky beautifully. You smile and lean your forehead against the glass as you imagine lying on a soft cloud, just drifting in the air.

"If you c-could go anywhere at all, where would y-you go?" You ask Mina suddenly, turning to her. Her eyes are focused on the road but she bites her lip in thought at your question. "Mm, probably Italy. What about you?" She's used to your sudden questions and ramblings, so she smiles when you start to go off.

"I'd wanna go up in the c-clouds. I wanna sit on one and maybe even see a r-rainbow up close! I wonder if I could slide down the rainbow..." Your brows furrow in deep thought. "Or would I f-fall?" You turn to her again and she glances over to see your signature puppy dog eyes that you use when you are either confused, upset, or want something.

Mina turns back to the road, a tiny ache in her heart that she hides with a bright smile, "Girl, you would ride that rainbow straight down into a pot of gold!"

"Really?" Your eyes widen and you feel your heart lift at the image.

She nods and you giggle happily, "You can come w-with me, Mina." You say confidently, your gaze turning back to the sky. "We can sleep in the clouds and slide down rainbows for the rest of f-forever."

"Sounds like a deal."

By the time Mina pulls up to the school, you've discussed everything you'd do up in the clouds and what you'd eat when you're hungry (stardust, you've decided, is the best meal anyone could eat.)

You unbuckle and gather your things. Then you remember something and turn back to Mina, "Oh yeah. W-When are you leaving on your business trip?" You ask a tinge of sadness in your voice.

"This weekend," Mina says solemnly. "I'm sorry I won't be able to drive you for a while. I'll be gone for a month this time."

That makes your heart sting but you manage a small smile, "D-Don't worry about me. I can walk! I'm gonna m-miss you though."

"I'll miss you too, buttercup. We'll hang out this Friday night before I leave the next day. How about that?" Mina asks kindly.

You nod enthusiastically and she smiles, "Ok, get your butt in there before you're late! The bell rings in half an hour and you can't be late on a Monday." She urges you and you nod, hopping out of the car and thanking her again for the ride, reassuring her that you'll walk home from work today.

You blow her a kiss and she laughs as you turn and hurry into the school.

You're all set up only a few minutes before the kids are supposed to arrive, so you go onto Pinterest and look through your fairytale boards, feeling a little spark of joy in your chest.

A couple of minutes later, the kids start streaming through the door, greeting you with the same amount of enthusiasm as you greet them. Your kiddos love you so much that all the other teachers are jealous and they let you know it every day. Of course, you have the sweetest kindergarteners and they're always the best for you.

"Hello, Teacher! Good morning Miss ___! Teacher, look at my new haircut!"

"Hi, Jina! Hello M-Minhhyuk! Kun, your new haircut l-looks so good!" All the kids have bright smiles on their faces by the time they've settled in their seats.

You always start the day off by getting everyone to stand and do a few stretches, then you sing the nursery rhymes you learned yesterday and start learning a new one. You honestly have as much fun as the kids during the school day.

"Ok, l-little ducklings, have a seat!" You get their attention and they immediately oblige. Next, is the alphabet that you guys have been working on since the beginning of the year. Every little one sings it perfectly all the way through and you give them a round of applause and they each get a little punch in their reward cards.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, with only one temper tantrum thrown and that was resolved quickly.

It's nearing the end of the school day and the kids are all playing during their free time. You're sitting with Ae-Cha, a small and fairly quiet girl, playing with colorful blocks; the both of you competing to see who can build the highest tower. You've learned that she responds well to playing games when there isn't too much talking involved.

You're constantly glancing around the room to make sure everyone is safe and playing nicely and you're always pleased. They've all improved so much since the beginning of school back in September. It's June now and they've all learned their alphabet and how to play nicely with their new friends, along with so many other things. They've really made you so proud this year. You can even hear them reciting the alphabet and nursery rhymes to each other as they play.

Your heart warms at the sound of tiny voices filling the room as they sing. Then you glance at the clock and realize the bell will be ringing in a few minutes. So, you declare Ae-Cha the winner with her foot-high tower of blocks and she beams proudly. Then, you get up and clap three times, "One, two, th-three! Eyes on me!" You singsong, then smile when the kids immediately respond by clapping twice and shouting "One, two! Eyes on you!"

"G-Great attention today, everyone! Alright, the bell will ring soon. Who can tell me w-what that means? What are we doing n-now?" A few little hands go up and you point to the little boy that raised his first, "Yes, Joon Woo?"

"We...Uhm...time to clean up toys...Uhm..." You smile to encourage him and he finishes cutely, "Time uh, to clean up our toys and pack bags."

"Yes! Thank you, Joon Woo. It is t-time for us to clean up and make sure our bags are packed up and ready for h-home!"

The kids start to pick up their toys as you put on the cleaning song that you play every day for them. You all sing along until the room is all tidied and their bags are packed with their homework papers.

You always give them little mazes to do for homework to get their little brains to learn to concentrate, along with instructions on what to draw to show the class the next day. Today, their homework is an extremely easy maze, a coloring page with the alphabet and instructions to draw themselves doing their favorite activity. The kids always love drawing pictures and sharing them with the class and it's a good ice breaker for the shy ones at the beginning of the day.

You always have less and easier homework for the kids on Mondays and Fridays, it just seems fair to you that way. You also feel like it's good for kids to express themselves and be able to share what they like and dislike. You've found drawing helps with communication and creativity for the kids in your class.

The sound of the bell ringing makes a few of you jump, then you hurry to the door. "Alright, ducklings! T-Time to line up!" A few of the kids make quacking sounds as they line up, giggling and talking to their friends.

You smile and open up the door, holding it as the kids walk out in a straight line, some of them still quacking like little ducks.

You lead the kids to the front of the school and make sure they get into the correct line for the bus if they take it. You wave goodbye to them as the kids that take the bus climb on and they run to a window to wave back to you.

The rest of the kids that are left are soon picked up by their parents or siblings. You wave to Ae-Cha, the last student to be picked up. She smiles shyly and waves back before hurrying after her big sister.

After that, you go back to your classroom and finish a few things before packing up to go home. As you're leaving your classroom, you run into one of the other teachers coming from his own room.

"Oh, h-hello Mr. B-Baek!" You bow, missing the ugly sneer on his face as you smile brightly at him. He pushes his glasses further up his nose as he scrutinizes you with his beady little eyes. "You don't belong here, Miss ___." He snaps.

You look at him in confusion, "I-I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I've waited the entire school year to say this to you. But now that we are nearing the end, I think you should know that you have no business being a teacher at this school. You ought to make the right decision to discontinue your work here." Mr. Baek watches your face fall with a sick sense of satisfaction.

"B-But, why?" You ask, still not understanding.

"First of all, you're inexperienced. You just got out of college last year, am I right?"

You nod uncertainly.

"You're still a child. Why should a twenty-two-year-old girl come marching in here and take a spot that should have been given to someone with more experience? And especially someone like you." He glares at you before turning on his heel and walking away briskly.

Someone like me? What does he mean by that?

You watch after him, feeling a tiny pinch in your chest. You aren't sure what he means, but whatever he's talking about, it sounds like he believes you shouldn't have become a teacher at all. At this school or another. You'll have to ask Mina later because you really have no idea where his rant came from.

Is there something wrong with you becoming a teacher?

You shake your head and laugh it off, "He's probably just had a bad day." You tell yourself as you make your way out of the school.

As you walk home, you sing quietly along with the song in your headphones, a little skip to your step.

You never notice the dark figure across the street, his eyes trained on your every move.

One day earlier...

Jungkook groans as he tosses and turns in bed, searching for his phone to turn the alarm off. He finally finds it and hits dismiss, tossing the phone back down and rubbing his eyes with a tired yawn.

After another minute he sits up and looks out the window, frowning at the sun seeping in and pooling across his floor in a golden river. He stares at a small bird that lands on his windowsill until it flies away.

Jungkook yawns again and reaches up to rub his eyes for the second time. After a few minutes, he's finally able to drag himself out of bed and into the shower. He almost falls asleep again in there, but he manages to make it out after half an hour.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he makes his way to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of soju that's sitting on his tiny dining table to take a small swig from, finishing off what he'd left last night after his third bottle right before he passed out in bed.

He sighs and grabs a bagel, searching for the cream cheese he swears he saw in his fridge last night. A small smile appears on his lips when he finds it. He snatches it and makes sloppy work of spreading it on his bagel before tossing the leftover trash onto his counter and plopping onto the couch, snarfing down the first half of his bagel in thirty seconds.

Jungkook sighs through his nose as he tiredly chews his breakfast, then he glances down and sees the file he'd left open on his coffee table last night. He swallows the bite he has in his mouth and leans forward to read over it.

Y/L/N Y/N...

Why is that name so familiar?

He shakes his head and flips the file closed, then he leans back on the couch, wanting to spend his Sunday relaxing before he has to get to work on this case. He isn't going to think about it again until tonight.

Jungkook settles down and lays his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

He won't think about it.

Jungkook lays there for a minute, then he opens his eyes and lifts his head, glaring at the closed file on the little table.

He grunts in annoyance and drops the other half of his bagel onto the table, grabbing the file angrily and sitting back again. He opens it and starts to reread everything he's read many times since Friday. There's just something that has felt off since he met with Mr. Ling, but he can't put his finger on what it is.

Jungkook squints at the name he's read a thousand times.

Y/L/N...Y/N...

"Ugh." He rolls his eyes, frustrated at not being able to remember where he's heard that name before. Then he looks at the occupation.

Teacher at Sunshine Kindergarten.

His brows furrow again, much like they have each time he's read this. He's never had a hit on a teacher before, let alone a Kindergarten teacher. That's such an odd target...

Most of his targets in the past have been sleazy business owners, rapists, leaders of gangs that have terrorized neighborhoods for years, even other hitmen. He's never had a problem with those jobs, but there's something about this one that's telling him to be careful.

Maybe it's because he knows nothing about his client, except for the large sum of money he must have due to the pay he's been promised. Other clients of his were more than happy to explain why they wanted him to do what he does. They never paid him until after the job was done, either.

That leads Jungkook to believe that this guy (or girl) is desperate for his services, convincing him to do it with payment before and after. Almost as if Jungkook would refuse after he found out who the target was...

Jungkook flips the page and scrutinizes the picture of the target.

She's very simple looking, Jungkook thinks. The girl in the picture is wearing a white flowy skirt with a blue blouse that covers her whole arms and white chunky tennis shoes. Her hair is in a low ponytail and it seems like she has headphones in as she walks down the street. There's a tiny smile on her face as if she's thinking about something that makes her happy.

Jungkook doesn't find her particularly beautiful, but she isn't ugly either. She's just very...

Simple...

Jungkook shakes his head, his eyes going over the photo and the girl's smile one more time. Maybe she's a double agent? Or a part of the mafia disguising herself as a school teacher?

He can't figure it out.

It doesn't matter much though, the job seems simple enough and the pay is more than he's ever gotten. After looking through everything once more, Jungkook closes the file and grabs his bagel, quickly eating it before getting up to get dressed for the day.

That night, Jungkook lays out his outfit for the next day.

It's all black, but not suspicious-looking. After all these years, he's been able to design the perfect outfits to avoid attention being drawn to him and simple enough so that no one would think much of him if he were to catch anyone's attention.

It might seem simple, but he prides himself on being able to get each part of his job perfectly designed for each case he gets.

Heaven knows it's taken him years to accomplish.

After he's gotten that all figured out, he walks over to his closet and pulls out a small safe. Setting it on the bed, he swiftly unlocks it and looks inside. He pulls out a few things, examining each of them before he sets them one by one onto his bed. Once he's got the items all laid out, he steps back to look it all over.

"I should wait to decide..." Jungkook mumbles to himself. After a minute of staring at everything, he nods and gathers it all up, carefully putting it back into the safe and locking it tightly. Then he brings it back to his closet and shoves it into the darkest corner where it lives.

That can wait.

He pulls his phone out and checks the time.

11:45

"Damn it," Jungkook mutters. He had wanted to get some sleep earlier tonight since he would have to be awake early tomorrow.

He changes into some shorts, then he yanks his shirt off and immediately climbs into bed, not even bothering to shower or brush his teeth. He really couldn't care less with how tired he is. And he hasn't even started yet.

His alarm blares at an ungodly hour as Jungkook groans loudly, resisting the temptation to chuck his phone across the room.

"I hate Mondays." He mutters angrily, setting his phone back on the nightstand far from gracefully.

He miserably drags himself out of bed and into the shower, going through his morning motions almost like a robot. His brain isn't fully awake and it's just on autopilot right now.

An hour later, he's just finishing his coffee, his eyes no longer squinting in exhaustion. Jungkook unceremoniously drops his coffee cup into the sink, promising himself he'll clean it up later, then he sighs as he grabs his black boots, walking to the couch to sit and pull them on. After he's done lacing them up, he grabs the file he's been avoiding like the plague since yesterday morning.

He mutters to himself, looking at the name on the page.  

"I know that name."

Then he smacks his forehead to get himself to focus again. He stands up and folds the page with the girl's information and then her picture and tucks them into the inside pocket of his black jacket.

Time to get to work.

Jungkook spots the girl almost instantly, the second she steps out of a black car. He glances at the driver, but can only see a person with shoulder length black hair waving. The girl from the picture has a bunch of things in her arms as she blows a kiss to the short-haired driver.

Jungkook has been here since six-thirty in the morning and just as he was beginning to think she called in sick for work, he's finally gotten a chance to see this girl in person. She looks exactly as he remembers from her picture...plain.

She's even wearing the same white skirt and chunky tennis shoes, although this time she has a different top. Her hair is in a high ponytail this time.

"Well, ___. Nice to meet you." Jungkook mutters, watching closely.

After a moment, the black car drives away as the girl scurries into the school, tripping on the last step before straightening herself out again, then disappearing from his sight.

Huh.

Jungkook stares at the door for another minute, then he makes his way to the stores nearby, knowing he's gonna have to wait until the girl leaves. School for the young kids typically gets out at around three-thirty. So, he'll have to be back here around then.

He's definitely going to need to find something to do to kill time.

Jungkook heaves a sigh of relief when he hears the school bell finally ring.

He hurries from the clothes store he was browsing and down the street a block until he's almost across the street from the school. He finds a good spot where he can sift through some newspapers at a little stand and still have an eye on the school.

After a minute, he sees a long line of tiny children coming out from the school. The girl is with them and smiling brightly. Jungkook thinks he can hear some of the kids quacking like ducks. He tries not to look puzzled as he goes back to talking to the person working the paper stand. Jungkook makes small talk with the old man, still keeping an eye on the girl across the street as she waves to each child that leaves.

If she's some mafia boss disguised as a kindergarten teacher, she's one hell of a good actress.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The old man inquires curiously.

Jungkook laughs softly and shakes his head, "No. I've been so busy with my work I never got the chance to date."

The man nods knowingly. They chat a bit more and Jungkook finds himself trying to balance talking to the man and watching the girl.

"Well, did you want to buy a paper for the day?"

Jungkook turns his gaze back to the old man and nods, "Yes. Two, please. My neighbor would probably enjoy one as well."

The old man laughs and nods, taking the money Jungkook hands him and giving him two papers, "What a kind young man you are. Someday you'll find a lovely young lady, don't you worry, son. You will realize that work is important, but love is even more so."

Jungkook just laughs and thanks the man, then he opens the paper as he slowly starts walking, pretending to read.

He stops at a bench and sits down to wait. The girl went back into the school a few minutes ago, hopefully, she won't be in there long.

Luck seems to be with him today, because, after only about five minutes, Jungkook sees a familiar white skirt flowing as she skips down the steps of the school.

He folds his paper carefully, tucking it into his back pocket. The girl puts little earbuds in and immediately starts to mouth the words of whatever song she's listening to. Jungkook tugs his black baseball cap down a little more as he follows on the other side of the street.

The girl has a bag decorated with cupcakes and cookies that bounces up and down as she dances a little.

What is she, twelve?

Jungkook watches in confusion as the girl stops to pet a dog, giggling when the puppy licks her hand. She straightens up, then after another minute, she seems to get distracted by something else.

Jungkook looks carefully and notices she's picked up a flower that was laying on the ground, seemingly trampled on. She gently holds it in her hands as she continues on her way. It goes on like this for the next fifteen minutes, the girl waving to people and smiling almost the whole way.

By the time she is walking up the steps to her apartment, Jungkook is dying to just get back home. That must have been the longest most annoying walk he's ever taken while tracking someone. The girl had stopped over twenty times, distracted by something else each time, he's sure of it.

Just to be sure, Jungkook lingers around the apartment building a little longer, but when it seems apparent that the girl is going to be staying there, he finally heads home.

Geez, Jungkook thinks in annoyance as he climbs the stairs that lead to his own apartment. His head is spinning with so many questions while he unlocks his door and yanks his boots off with a groan.

But when he plops down onto his bed in his tiny studio apartment, he just stares at the ceiling, his mind suddenly blank apart from one question.

Who in the hell would put a hit on this girl?

Copyright © @writemywaytoyourheart 2021

Next

a/n: I hope you guys are liking the setup so far, thank you for all the positive reactions from the prologue!

[ta0ken]

MORS CERTA, HORA INCERTA (death is certain, its hour is uncertain)

❝𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮❞ — atticus.

have you ever felt what it was like to dream? to even vividly remember the dream? how does it feel; does it feel nice? you wonder and wonder, but the dreams are always there (only with a few changes). you're only reliving a dream.

← farewell forever                                                                illi omnes mori in finem →

YOU STAND WITH YOUR BACK STRAIGHT, not really paying any attention to the meeting that was taking place before you, eyes glancing away. You weren't even sure what division you were under, but you didn't really care, letting out a tiny yawn, covering your mouth. Chatter rang out through the meeting location, various members talking and some glancing towards you, wondering who you were.

Closing your eyes, you put your hands in your pockets, searching them for your pack of cigarettes. Taking it out, you fish for your lighter, putting a cigarette in between your lips.

"The pre-battle meeting for our fight against Valhalla..." Draken announces, stepping forward with Mikey, "...will now begin!"

Just as you were about to light your cigarette, not really caring about the meeting, someone stops you by taking the lighter out of your hands. You look at the culprit, a brow raising in confusion and somewhat irritation. "...Mitsuya," you drawl, sighing, and spoke in a hushed tone, "what's the reason?"

"We're surrounded by other people," he replies, holding your lighter hostage. "At least, be mindful of those around you."

You shrug your shoulders, glancing away.

"Sure."

Looking back at the front, Mikey stands in front of you all at the very top, and you almost forget that he's 15-years-old, not an adult. Your shoulders sag a little, but his seems to be sagging more than yours, almost like a heavy weight is placed upon them (and maybe, there is a heavy weight there).

"I'm glad to see you all here today!" he says in a loud tone, looking at everyone, "Tomorrow, we're going head-to-head with Valhalla. They picked this fight with us. There's nothing for us to gain!" but as he continues to speak, his eyes droop just a little, and you can tell that he's sad, "...Also... Baji has sided with our enemy! We don't go easy on traitors! That's Toman's policy!"

You ignore the stare that you can feel on the side of your head, thanks to Mitsuya. He's concerned, but you don't want to worry him: you give him a grin and wave your hand, murmuring, "I'm alright."

(Your teeth clenches tightly on the cigarette stick.)

"...Can I..." Mikey utters in a blank but hushed tone, "...just be a kid?" And you watch him sit on the steps of the stairs, everyone looking at him in surprise, as he smiles and announces, "I don't wanna fight Baji."

You breathe out, slightly grinning in exasperation.

"So, here's my solution!" he declares, standing up proud and tall, "Lend me your strength, everyone! Tomorrow, we're gonna crush Valhalla... and take Baji back!" He has a confident grin on his face, the more he talks, the sadness dissipating, "That's how we fight our battles!"

And everyone cheers.

"YEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!"

✎______

You lean onto a car, already smoking, with Mitsuya standing by you, giving you a look of disappointment. You put your lighter back in one of your pockets, glancing at the spectators that were watching. "...Eh," you hum in interest, "the Haitani brothers... Didn't think they'd come as well." Nudging the lilac-haired boy, you snicker, asking quietly, "You think they like guys?"

"They'd murder you," he deadpans. He looks at them for a second, noticing that the pair was looking over towards you both, eyeing you two, and he instantly turns you away, saying hurriedly, "They definitely don't look like they like guys, but I'm sure there are other people who'd like you."

"Perhaps," you snort, grinning at him. "Does my liege like guys, perhaps?"

He rolls his eyes, slightly shoving your face away, an exasperated smile on his face.

"FIGHTERS!" Hansen bellows, "MAKE YOUR ENTRANCE!"

A hand pats your back, pushing you forward. You glance over towards the other, and he motions you to keep walking, mouthing, 'That's our sign.' With a nod, you begin to walk, though Mitsuya passes you, walking towards the front. You blink, leaning off to the side a little, ignoring that you might be invading someone's space. Ah, right, he's a Captain. I forgot.

Squinting your eyes, you raise a brow. "...Where's Pah-chin?" you mutter to yourself, puffing out smoke as you sigh.

"Tokyo Manji Gang!"

"Valhalla!"

You rub your chin, glancing away. Hmm... A fight between two gangs; I wonder if this follows a 'prophecy'. You let out a quiet snort at your own thoughts, slumping, Ha. Yeah, I'm just being dramatic.

"Hansen-kun!" Mikey exclaims, "First off, I'd like to thank you... for over-seeing this fight today."

"Hah." The other simply sneers, "If this fight sucks, I'm kickin' all your asses."

You take out your cigarette, noticing that it was already near the bud, and you deadpan. Taking out another, you stare off into the distance with heavy eyelids, your eyes drooping as you notice the person that was the representative from Valhalla. Ah, Kazutora... You let out a breath from your nose, exhaling softly, and shook your head.

Man.

"Over-seer? Condition?" Kazutora's voice drops to a low and dangerous tone, grinning widely, "You guys think this is a game?" He turns around, spreading his arms wide to emphasize his point, "We came here—"

"Shall we begin, Mikey?!"

You inhale through your nose.

"—to torture you punks to death!"

You breathe out smoke.

"LET'S DO THIS, TOMAN!"

Watching everyone run, you took in a deep breath, ignoring the smoke that could possibly kill your lungs, the more you inhale. Glancing around the area, you notice someone creeping up from behind. Your eyes flicker over to them, twisting your heel and kicking the male in the face. Taking out the cigarette from your lips, you exhale once more, looking down on the person.

You punch a guy across the face, grimacing when you felt the prickling pain on your hand when you punched the man. "...Ugh," you groan, cradling it, "it's been way too long since I've last fought—"

A shout catches your attention, your eyes darting over immediately - it was someone rushing towards you.

"Oh, shit—" you wheeze, feeling the man's fist dig into your abdomen, face scrunching up due to pain. Your cigarette almost falls from your mouth, but you're quick to dig your teeth into the bud, stopping it. "Hey..." you utter out, managing to stand up despite the pain, and point the opposite direction, "take a look at the other side of hell for me?"

"Huh—"

You duck underneath him, swiping your leg underneath him, hurriedly standing up. You rub your shoulder, slightly stretching as you sigh, muttering profanities under your breath. "Fuckin' lameasses..." you scowl, whipping around to throw a punch towards someone, biting down on your cigarette, mumbling out, "Numbers really do affect a gang fight, doesn't it?"

"Mitsuya! [Name]! You guys doin' okay?!"

"Yeah!"

"Sure," you say, getting punched across the face. "Ow."

The man reels his fist back once more, grabbing your uniform. You grin, feeling sweat drip down the side of your cheek as you watch him take his 'sweet time' (he really wasn't that slow) to punch you, and headbutt him in the face, ignoring his cry of pain. "Fuck off," you muster out, frowning. Twirling around, you took a hold of his arm, and you flip him over, breathing heavily.

"...I wasn't made to fight," you mutter to yourself, wiping away the blood leaking from your lips. "Damn."

"RAAAGH!"

Your head turns to the loud voice, blinking wildly. "Who—"

"COME AND GET ME, ASSHOLES! No way in hell you're takin' me down. I'm gonna finish this fight, you'll see..." the boy staggers, but catches himself, screaming loudly, "I'M GONNA KICK... ALL YOUR ASSES!"

Huh? You stare blankly, furrowing your brows. But you can barely stand, how are you going to manage that? Taking a drag out of your cigarette, you exhale, tired of everything. "Hm..." You watch with interest, seeing the other Toman members beginning to get riled up from the boy's words, though you've never really thought about it enough; is this what it's like to be in a gang? Is it to prove your pride?

You take out your cigarette.

"Ah... Looks like they made Draken riled up, too."

Watching him single-handedly take out ten of the Valhalla members, you let out a small laugh, closing your eyes. Mostly everyone surrounding the guy, Hanma, was defeated by Draken and the other Toman members, you were busy looking for a certain someone (who you'd call your friend, but is he your friend?).

"MIKEY!"

Your head whips towards the sound, noticing Draken looking somewhere. Following his gaze, he was looking at Mikey, who was... on a pile of cars, laying down. You watch blankly, squinting your eyes as you stare at the scene. (What are you doing? Pay attention to the fight, you remind yourself) But, the more Kazutora prattles on, the more Mikey seems enranged.

He lifts his leg, with someone holding onto it, and—wait, wait, he took them out. You blink, lifting your head up. Then, murmurs rang out through the field.

They were loud, so so loud.

Your head was ringing.

"Follow me, men!"

Footsteps, shouting, punches and kicks, everything seems loud. Your hands reaches your ears, covering them as you try to breathe, but too many people were shoving past you screaming and shouting and oh, it was too loud—

"KISASKI!"

The voice is clear, it's familiar, and you know exactly who it is. Your hands are gone from your ears, ignoring the ringing, and your erratic breathing returns to normal as you try to look for him, looking around wildly—where, where, where, where, where, where—?

Your eyes land onto him, but he's on the ground, he fell from the stack of cars (who?), but someone's in his way—Chifuyu—and they're talking (but you don't know what). He's nervous, he's scared, you may be far away, but you know he's trembling. He looks up to Baji Keisuke too much to even hurt him, you know that. That's why you're walking towards the pair, making your way towards them—stop stop, stop it.

"LET'S STOP BAJI-KUN TOGETHER!! CHIFUYU!"

You can't care enough to listen to the prattling of the blonde kid—Takemitchy—and you stare at the person that's gradually approaching the three.

"What are you doing, Kazutora?" you ask, standing with your hands in your pockets.

His eyes widen, eyes trailing up towards you as you stare him down, cigarette still in between your lips (but your eyes are filled with sadness - why?). "I wanted to kill... Baji..." he gasps, only to get pushed away by Takemitchy, and they both fall down from the cars.

"Are you okay, [Name]-kun?!"

You stare blankly at the male, before shoving past him.

"[Name], wait," Baji says, catching your attention, "...You got stabbed, didn't you?"

A pause.

Turning your head towards him, your eyes are cold, and you manage to say, "Don't even, Keisuke." Ignoring his widen eyes, you approach Kazutora, who stares at you. There's still ringing in your ears, from how loud everyone is (was), but you couldn't care anymore. You shove past Mikey, who's hellbent on murdering Kazutora.

"Move, Mikey. I'm ending this."

And Mikey moves.

"Hey, Hanemiya... Do you think," you grin widely, "that you're a hero?" You can feel your annoyance surging through your veins, the more you look at the boy in front of you: he used to be your friend, don't you remember? He was muttering things, and god did you not care. You ignore the searing pain in your stomach, because you can't afford to care anymore (not when he almost killed—).

Before he could even speak, you kick him across the face, rolling your eyes. "Don't answer that," you say coldly, narrowing your eyes at him, "Because... you're not a hero in my eyes, anyway."

You could feel blood rising up from your throat, the more you carry on, and you ignore the blood splattering on the uniform of Kazutora, the more you kick him around like a ragdoll. Picking up the iron rod that he used to beat up Mikey, you hit him straight across the head, breathing heavily. "Why...?" you ask, "Why do you... ignore the things that you have... Hanemiya?"

Watching his eyes widen, you kick him in the chest, forcing him to the ground.

"You're... so ignorant," you mutter, throwing a punch across his face. "We're only 15-years-old or maybe even younger... Stop fuckin' around, do you... want to kill more people...?"

Footsteps rush towards you, hands grabbing the uniform you wear, you try to push them away, your hands reaching to grab Kazutora. You're in a frenzy, but you don't see it (why can't you? Stop it, please—), because you're too focused on trying to kill him. You're angry, and you're sad, but you're also just a kid, aren't you?

"[Name], stop it," Baji? Keisuke tells you, holding you back as his arms tighten around you. "This ain't your fuckin' fight! Just leave me alone and let me—"

"Stop fucking... trying to do things on... your own, Baji!" you shout at him, trying to pull your arms out of his grip, "We're in this... together, aren't we...?!" For once, you felt like you could scream the entire day, shouting profanities, screaming at people, because you were just tired. Even then, you weren't strong enough.

You didn't fight as many gangs as Baji or the others did, you didn't fight as many people as Baji or the others did, you didn't do much as Baji or the others did.

There was no way you could try and get out of his grip.

(It hurts.)

Suddenly, blood gushes out from your mouth, and you cough. You hack up blood, getting it on the uniform you wear, your hands holding the stab wound in your abdomen. You could feel your gaze become hazy, and you blink, watching everything turn blurry. Shutting your eyes tightly, you muster up the strength to push Baji away, and you stand, staggering and stumbling.

"[Name]…!"

You stare at the ground, breathing, watching everything turn into a blur. It's hard to concentrate, you realize, but it's also hard to think. (Is this what it feels like when you're dying...?)

"...Baji, Kazutora," you rasp out, feeling your legs give in, but you refuse, and you give them a bloody smile, feeling the crimson red liquid drip down from your mouth, "…it's not your fault."

And that's all you can remember.

(What's with the crying faces? Everything's fine, don't worry. I promise.)

✎______ [Name] was with Kazutora and Baji when Shinichiro died.

You wake up, eyes hazy and in a daze, unable to concentrate. Squinting a bit, you wait, letting your eyes readjust to the sudden brightness, and you let out a loud sigh.

"[Name]...?" a dreary voice asks, sounding as though they had just woken up. "[Name]—!"

Entirely done with what you can hear, you sink into the hospital bed, muttering, "You're too loud for a hospital, Keisuke..." Your eyes flicker over to him, seeing his eyes once bright eyes dim, the light dissipating at the way you spoke of his name. He slouches, slumping back into the chair, and he lowers his head.

"...Are you okay?" he asks quietly.

"I'm fine." Your eyes take him in, and you open your mouth, only to instantly close it. But are you okay?

Baji doesn't look at you, and you finally look away from him. It's silent, but it's peaceful, but it's also tense. You're not quite sure what to say, and he isn't either, from his nervous expression. You choose to stare up at the ceiling, sometimes glancing at him, but you try to make it seem dubious.

His hand (when did it get there?) wraps around yours tightly, and he rests his head against it, letting out a small, but heavy breath.

“I’m… I’m just glad you’re alive,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb gently over your knuckles.

There’s a sudden pang in your chest as you look at him, and it hurts really badly. You only sigh, ignoring the pain in your chest, managing to keep your gaze steady and  your lips went into a thin line. He looks sad, but you didn’t mean to make him sad.

”…I’m sorry,” you murmur back, lowering your head. “…I was just worried, I guess.”

He doesn’t stop rubbing your hand, assuring himself that you’re right there. Baji nods his head numbly, before giving you a wide grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You were worried for me…? Thanks,” he says in a tone you can’t decipher, “but, I didn’t need your help.”

“I know,” you tell him, looking away and towards the window. “But I just wanted to help a friend.”

His hand stops, and—

“So did I,” he whispers.”

You turn your head back to him, a small smile on your face with your eyes closed. “I guess we wanted to help different people, huh?”

He lets out a low chuckle, his voice quieting near the end.

”I guess.” 

✎______

Kazutora sits down beside you, brushing his hand in your hair as your eyes are closed, tears running down his face. He didn’t mean to stab you, no, he would never (you were his close friend, how could he stab you?). It was intended for Baji, but even then, maybe none of this would’ve happened if he had just realized it was his fault.

He mutters apologies, even when the police near him and your body. He knows you’re not dead, but if you were dead, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

The death of two people on him? God, he must be some sort of guy.

He’s not quite sure what happened within the time he got arrested, because his thoughts were too cluttered for him to even pay attention. He didn’t pay attention at all to what was said to him, he just nodded and did whatever they wanted him to do. And, to be honest, he didn’t expect a visit from Draken nor Takemitchy nor Baji.

He just nods his head to whatever the three tell him, gaze unsteady but there’s a sense of sanity in there.

”[Name] forgives you, by the way,” Baji says, being the last one to leave. “And so does Mikey.”

His eyes widen, and he stares at the desk, his head slightly lowering by the second as he can feel tears welling up in his eyes. His lips tremble and he grips his pants as he tries to not cry (but he’s only 15-years-old). Sniffles escapes him as he cries quietly, a weight of whatever lifted off his shoulders.

Baji only laughs at the scene, before leaving and saying, “Take care of yourself, Kazutora. And don’t die on me, jackass.”

”…Right,” the other mumbles. “Of course.”

[thexanwillshine]

a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.