#anyway I lied and said no because a) I don’t know her well enough for that and b) I didn’t want to talk about it while driving

[herawell]

.

[darnell-la]

how about old!logan with the filthiest mouth one could ever speak, full with nasty and degrading pet names. just rough and mean logan treating the reader 🫠🫠

note: this takes place in the Honda Odyssey… we can make the man filthier by the way…

———

“Well, you guys are fucking stupid, so, it’s not a surprise we’re lost,” y/n crossed her arms in the back seat as Wade drove through the woods, trying to get to the place Nicepool had me roomed for them to form a team.

“You ain’t the smartest sheep either. Batting your fuckin’ eyelids at Jonny,” Logan scoffed next to her before leaning back in his to rest.

After Wade had told him that there might not be a way to save his world, he’s been in a bad mood. Ever since she met him, he’s been in a bad mood.

“Yeah, but sadly he’s not here with us, right Wade?” Y/n sarcastically asked, making Wade sigh loudly. “He should have said those things about her!” Wade shouted.

“This whole trip is fucking ridiculous. Like seriously, Wade. Why the fuck did you bring me along to save this drunk fuck!?” Y/n complained, making Logan chuckle.

“To save your shitty world,” Logan said under his breath. “Hey! That’s my world too!” Wade argued. “Yeah — That’s why I said that shit,”

“Not like yours is better,” y/n mumbled, making Logan snap his head towards her. Y/n continued looking out of the window, not caring how he felt about her words.

“The fuck you say?” The man asked in a clearly angry tone. “Alright, let’s just cool our dicks and think about a place to eat at after we get out of this shit hole, hm?” Wade asked the two, but they both ignored him.

“Nah, I wanna hear what the little bitch has to say,” Logan called the young lady out of her name, making her snap his own neck at him. “Bitch!? No wonder you could never keep a woman. In every universe!” She shot for his heart.

“That’s something you don’t have to worry about because Ian pickin’ a little brat like you,” Logan tried saying something back in an instant like her comment didn’t hurt. He knew calling her out of her name was shitty, but he’s going through it right now.

The man was pulled from his universe being told he had a chance to save it. Not even two hours later, he was told it was an educated wish.

“Not like you can get in my pants anyways limp dick,” y/n spat, making the man chuckle. He was cocky. He always has been, and his age wasn’t going to throw that away.

“You’re an easy little girl. You would even be able to handle me,” the man looked the girl up and down, giving a look that made her roll her eyes. “You fuckin’ wish,” she said before turning back to the window.

“Oh, honey bun, he does! Maybe y’all can fuck it out in here before we make it home. Got a long way to go,” Wade almost sang.

The two went silent, not declining or accepting. They were just angry, and Wade swore having a small fuck-session would help.

Y/n felt eyes on her through the silence. She told herself not to look back, but she had to. She wanted to see the man’s face, and god, was he fine. She hated admitting to it, but he was.

The way he looked at her legs, made her shift in her seat, growing nervous from the older man’s gaze.

“As I said — Little girl can’t handle it,” Logan finally looked up at the girl with a smirk, smelling the way she grew wet in seconds, and she didn’t know he could. She was clueless which made the situation funnier to him.

“I can handle more than you think. Your dick probably wouldn’t be able to stand up anyway, so stop lookin’ at me like that you perv,” y/n tried covering her legs, but there was no use.

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” the man rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. “Do it yourself, coward,” y/n said under her breath. She thought she was quiet enough until his head snapped back at her and Wade gasped.

“Oh, you nasty little peanut,” Wade giggled. “Oh, you want me to fuck you?” Logan asked, giving that stupid smirk again. “What!? I never said that,” y/n lied, trying to think of something to stop this conversation.

“Oh, but you did, bub,” Logan felt like he was shifting closer, but y/n kept her eyes off of him. “Don’t go silent on me now, bub. If you need a little cock to fix that attitude, I can do it,”

The instant confidence he had, made the girl nervous. What the fuck is she going to do?

“Don’t need cock,” the girl spoke quietly. “I think you do,” the man’s hand was now on the grips thighs, gripping it a bit rough to get a reaction.

Y/n turned and swung, going to hit the man somewhere, but he got her fist and pushed it away before hovering over her body.

“You’re feisty for a girl who’s soaking wet,” the man said, confusing y/n. “You can smell her that bad!?” Wade asked, wanting to know if all. “Oh, yeah, and she smells sweet,” Logan admitted as his hands tugged on her belt.

“Let’s see if I’m right,” Logan ripped y/n’s belt off and shorts down her legs, exposing her pretty lace panties. “Logan! Fuckin’ get off!” Y/n fought back, but he knew she could do better.

“You sure? Kinda looks a little messy down here,” the man laughed at her girl as he spews her legs, seeing the dark spot grow. Before she could say another word, he ripped her panties off, making her yell at him more.

“Pretty little cunt. Maybe if you weren’t so bitchy, I’d eat it, but I have different plans for you today,” Logan wiped a finger across her lips before taking them to his mouth to suck.

“Yep — Sweeter than peach, Wade. Didn’t know you had sluts as friends,” Logan laughed again as he fumbled with his own belt. “Logan!” Y/n still shouted, kicking and slapping but he had his single hand pinning her shoulder down.

“Look on the bright side, peanut — You’ll get some dick and maybe that’ll energize you for our fight?” Wade said about anything to hide the fact he loved hearing Logan get the way he gets.

“Fuck you, Wade!” Y/n yelled at the man. “Nah uh, only I do that to you,” y/n almost forgot about Logan until she looked down, seeing his cock out in his head, stoking and leaking pre cum.

“Got me so fuckin’ hard. You know how good you look fighting? How pretty you are yappin’ that damn mouth? Could only think about you under me -- where you belong,”

Logan struggled but made his way in between her legs. “Fuck you! Fuck you, a-and Wade! You’ll last two seconds,” y/n tried laughing at the man to seem tough as usual, but he shut her right up with a hard thrust into her cunt.

“What was that? Two seconds? If I lasted a short time, it’s because this cunts so fuckin’ soaked, not because I’m old, baby,”

Y/n’s hands pushed at the man’s stomach, trying to slow him down and stop him from pushing hitting the right spot with each thrust he gave.

“S-Stop!” The girl whined already, feeling the knot in her stomach build and her breathing get spotty. He was huge and hard. Harder than she thought a man his age could be.

“Don’t think you want that, baby. No, you want me to fuck this pretty little girl till she cried and leaks on the seat,” Logan whispered in her ear as his own breath became heavy.

“God, you guys are hot. Love the play date you guys are having! Maybe give me a review after the Uber ride. Tell me if the seats felt comfy and if y’all had enough room to fuck like rabbits with rabies,” Wade seemed excited.

“Hear that, babe? Gonna tell Wade how good I fuck this pussy? C’mon, tell him. Tell him how hard your squeeze my cock,”

Y/n hated his cock voice in her ear but loved it at the same time. He knew exactly how she’d like it. Maybe by her attitude, he knew she needed someone with the same energy to pound her.

“No c-chance,” the girl stuttered through her teeth as she tried glaring at the man, but her head instantly fell back after he gave one small pound, telling her to get rid of the attitude.

“You’re gonna do it eventually. Sluts like you can’t forget a good cock,” and he was right. This was going to be the best sed she’s had ever.

“Gonna go beggin’ Wade to come get me to fuck you. Shit, since I have to stay in the bullshit you call your world, I’ll just come over to your place myself. Burry my cock in this cunt till you pass out,”

“L-Logan,” y/n dug her nails into the man’s shoulders, trying to hold tight as her orgasm felt near. “Oh, you like that? Like the thought of a dirty old man fuckin’ this so-called clean pussy, hm? Gonna let me breed this little princess whenever I want? Even if I piss you off?”

“N-No, you fucking suck at this!” Y/n breathed heavily, keeping her orgasm together so she wouldn’t give him what she wanted.

“God, she’s fuckin’ petty,” Wade said as Logan let out a little chuckle. The man shifted in the van, lifting her legs over his shoulders before punching his right claw into the roof of the van.

Y/n jumped, not used to having a mutant like him around. “Don’t worry, princess. I wouldn’t hurt a pretty girl like you. Too valuable and tight,” Logan grabbed between the back of y/n’s head and neck to lift her to, fixing her to lean into him.

“Before I fuck you ass dumb, do you want to take anything you said back?” Logan looked down at the girl whose legs rested on his shoulder and cock grazed her entrance, waiting to be squeezed again.

“You fuck like a dead pig,” y/n spat. Right after, the man took one good slam into her, watching her legs part and scream. Logan pulled her head back up, making her look into his dark eyes.

“Loudmouth for a loud screamer,” the man smirked before moving his hips, thrusting into the girl with all the strength he had. He pulled her back to life whenever she tried pushing away or leaning her head back.

“Good fuckin’ pussy — Fuck! — Maybe I’ll excuse that bitch tone of yours,” the man couldn’t deny his could she felt and sounded.

Before, y/n thought she could hold herself in, but she knew Logan would get what he wanted in this new angle and harder pounding. He knew this from the start.

“C’mon, bub — I know you wanna cum. Keep squeezing around me like I wouldn’t notice,” he laughed at her. Teasing he. “N-Not cumming,” y/n assured the man, but even Wade didn’t believe her.

“I can see how the man has you in a full-on butter-salted pretzel position. You’re cumming, peanut,” Wade said, only egging Logan on knowing anyone who looked at her right now could tell she was close.

“No, I’m not!” Y/n pathetically whined. Logan leaned down to the girl's face, slightly touching her lips as his hot breath burned her nostrils.

“Don’t cum then, bub,” Logan said as he picked up his pace. “Don’t cum, and you win. You win your little bitch fight, and we can move on with our day,” Logan kept increasing.

“Don’t cum, and you’re right about my limp old dick,” Logan now growled. “Don’t cum, and I won’t come into your little home and eat that pussy,” y/n eyes rolled back as his hands dug into the back of her neck.

“Don’t cum, and I won’t fuck you like this every day to satisfy your needs, baby. Don’t cum, and I’ll have to leave this pretty little body alone forever,”

“Can’t breed it. Can’t kiss it. Can’t pound it. Can’t do anything I want to it,” y/n whined loudly at the man’s words, finally releasing the man’s cock.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought. You need me. You fuckin’ want this old dick,” Logan’s lips crashed into her, kissing her roughly as she cried at the pace he kept ducking her in.

“Goddam, she cums a lot!” Wade said with excitement, loving the animal coming out of Logan. He knew y/n needed something like this in his life. That totally isn’t the reason why he brought her along.

“So fuckin’ good, baby. Best fuckin’ cunt I’ve fucked. So damn tight and sweet. Need you after all this. Needa have you with me forever,”

Y/n didn’t plan for this to happen. She doesn’t plan to let Logan fuck her like this in the back of Nicepools Honda Odyssey. She didn’t plan for Logan to form an attachment issue with her.

“Gonna cum, baby. Gonna fill this girl up. Gonna keep you with me forever. Can’t leave. Don’t care how old I am, you belong with me. You’re made for me. Pussy’s molded to only take my cock,”

Logan’s hips bucked a few times before he pushed all the way into the young girl, spilling into her with a loud animalistic groan.

The top of the roof was ripped with how many times his claws punched in and out of it. Logan’s fingers bruised the back of y/n’s neck. Her lips even have a small scratch from the hard he kissed. She tastes so fucking good.

[leclsrc]

wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...

word count: 3.6k  

It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie

It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day. 

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.

The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—

“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.

His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”

“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.

You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes. 

“What about Max?”

Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”

“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.

“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”

—

The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.

Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.

His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.

OK, nice. Did u need something?

No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?

Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.

I thought we agreed no contact unless business

He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.

Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.

Yeah. Got a drink.

I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.

How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.

Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit

Yeah? I missed you today.

Really?

A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.

He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?

You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading. 

So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.

The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.

And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.

It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.

I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.

He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.

So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.

He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.

He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.

You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.

Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”

One week later

“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”

The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.

You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka. 

Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.

“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”

You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”

“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”

“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”

“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”

He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.

“Wanna test that out? Come play.”

Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.

“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.

“You got it wrong. Teaching.”

He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.

If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.

You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?

You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.

Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.

“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh. 

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.

You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—

“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.

“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.

“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.

“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.

“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward. 

“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.

“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.

“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.

It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed. 

He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.

“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”

“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.

“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control. 

“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”

“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time. 

“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”

His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.

“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.” 

Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.

“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.

“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.” 

You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.

[littlemissmiller]

𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔

Pairing: javier peña x fem!reader

Summary: Javier is your partner while on assignment in Bogotá. You can’t seem to resist him, as much as you tell yourself you’re done fooling around with him. One night, he comes home and the next morning, you finally realize your true feelings for him…

Warning: 21+ (drinking and smoking), semi-rough sex, ass slapping, slight power play, dom!javier, sub!reader, oral(m and f receiving), partners/friends to lovers

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: surprise! it’s pedro! i hope y’all enjoy this just as much as the tom fics (which i appreciate all the support once again, exceeded my expectations). I had this one in the vault for a while, but just went back and edited it so here it is! i have another billy and coryo fic in the works, but a girl has got to diversify her blog page no? also i do plan to post more pedro stuff (given my blog name 😅)ok enjoy! ❤︎

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

“This is the last time Javier.” You panted as Javier Peña pushed you up against the wall of a small janitor’s closet. A frequent place you had found yourself in once again, fucking like teenagers. Everyone had left the office nearly, but you still didn’t want to get caught.

“Yeah you said that last time sweetheart.” He growled into your ear as he readjusted you, hoisting you up further onto the wall. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and he was fucking up into you. His pants were only down far enough to let his cock out and he continued to push your tight pencil skirt up over your thighs and hips. You moaned into his ear which caused him to pick up his pace.

“I mean it we…we can’t keep doing this.” You moaned as his lips attached to your neck. He smirked and looked back up at you. His hand slithered up your throat and cupped under your chin.

“Really? Is that why you decided to wear this tight little skirt today? To get me to stop?” He panted

“I always wear these…” you lied

“Yeah well what about this blouse then hmm.” His hand slid down your throat to tug on your collar and then slipped inside your blouse to cup your breast.

“You know I can see right through it don’t you?”

“Maybe I was trying to get someone else’s attention…”you croaked out

“Mmm I don’t think so sweetheart. I know other people are looking but they wouldn’t dare to touch you.” He replied

“Why is that?”

“You know why…” he breathed into your ear “because you’re mine…” he picked up his pace and soon enough you were both coming undone.

He held you in place for a while and rested his forehead against yours. You both panted in exhaustion, your breathing in sync. He planted a soft kiss on your cheek before pulling out and setting you back on your feet.

“You should grab a drink with me tonight.” He suggested as he stepped back, readjusting himself, stuffing his cock back into his jeans and buckling his belt.

“Javi…” you sighed, shaking your head and smirking as you buttoned up your blouse “you know my rules…”

Ever since you and Javier started hooking up, you were very explicit about how your relationship would be. You had told him you weren’t looking for a relationship, but he convinced you to be “partners with benefits”.

Your rules were clear. No going out to bars or dinner, no flirting in front of your colleagues, and nothing more than just sex. Those were the rules left anyways. Javier had a way of convincing you to break them. At first, you had told him no hooking up at work, but about two weeks later and one too many tight dresses, you had broken that rule. And the rule not to show physical affection to each other outside of your activities. He couldn’t seem to help himself around you. He would always wait until no one was around, but occasionally he’d plant a kiss on your cheek or come up behind you and plant one on the back of your neck. It would usually turn into more, but occasionally it was just in passing and very quick.

“C’mon we can go as just co-workers. Then it’s not a date”

You looked up at him and rolled your eyes. You slipped your heels back on and started to fix your hair.

“You know what I told you. I’m not looking for a relationship, especially not with you.” You looked at him pointedly and he frowned “besides if you and I get together who else is going to fuck the hookers Escobar likes the have around.” You have joked raising my eyebrow

He rolled his eyes.

“They are informants and I get very useful information from them”

“Oh besides how they like it” you smirked reaching for the door

Javier stopped you. His hand wrapped around your wrist. He looked at you and you looked back at him intensely, snapping your head in surprise and confusion.

“Are you jealous or something?” He asked

“No!” You laughed “besides we get good intel like you said.”

He released your wrist and grunted in agreement. He traced his hand over your own, moving it from your wrist to your finger tip. He moved his fingers around your palm and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles.

“You should still get a drink with me though” he insisted, continuing to stroke your hand. “Hmm…what do you say? He kissed your knuckles this time, which took you off guard but it wasn’t unwelcomed.

A part of you had put these rules in place mainly for yourself. You knew getting tangled up with Javier like this would be trouble and quite frankly a distraction. Maybe you needed a distraction, but with your own partner? Would that really happen? Maybe because you also knew, in the back of your mind, you had deeper feelings at play. You thought about it and, in that moment, you realized you were about to break one of your own rules again.

“Fine.” You started, dropping your hand to your side “just as co-workers thought. This is not a date or anything like a date.”

“Fine by me. Whatever you wanna call it.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. You opened the janitors closet and poked your head out. You looked around and stepped out. Javier followed after you.

“Let’s get going. And separate cars.” You commanded, looking at him seriously

“I figured.”

“Where are we meeting?” You asked

“That bar near your place. The one on the corner next to your apartment.” You answered

Of course he chose somewhere near your place. You thought he was gonna try and take you home with him after. Back to his place. You were wrong. You and him met at the bar and, what ended up being one drink became three, then a cigarette, and your night was pretty much set.

“This ain’t too bad hmm?” He asked

“I don’t mind getting a drink with you Javier. Just the principle of it I…struggle with”

He smirked at your answer “Is that so?” He slid his hand onto your knee which made you almost choke on the beer you were sipping on.

“Javi!” You gritted though my teeth in a low tone

“You said no flirting in front of co-workers or at work. Nothing about outside of work.” He smirked.

“I hope you understand that you’re not coming home with me tonight.” You remark pointedly

“Oh really why is that?” He asked rubbing my thigh

“Because we are just getting a drink as co-workers. Remember.”

Javier leaned back with a satisfied smirk on his face and downed his whiskey.

“You’re at least gonna let me walk you home?”

“It’s just around the corner.” You reminded him

“So?” He asked

“I’ll be fine, but I have feeling you’d follow me anyways” you joked

“You think I’m too overprotective of you?”

“Sometimes….” You looked at him and he looked at you not with lust but something else. A deeper longing and you knew in that moment what you had suspected for a while. Javier Peña seemed to have fallen for you.

He ended up walking you home and you begrudgingly let him in for “just one more drink” and soon after you found yourself back home with him, although you didn’t actually have sex. The two of you drank whiskey and just talked. Something you rarely found time to do. Simply connect with each other. You both sat on the couch, Javier took the liberty of your closeness to occasionally caress your thigh or play with your hair. It was simple, yet incredibly intimate. You and him eventually moved to your bedroom, where you cuddled up on him. Neither of you talked much after that. You simply lost yourself in that moment with him. You felt complete and your heart felt full. You slowly faded into sleep against him and without realizing it he had kissed your forehead several times after you had fallen asleep until he too drifted off.

When you woke up the next morning Javier was still asleep, sleeping on his stomach. You watched his back muscles as they rose and fell. He breathed heavily and you tangled your fingers loosely in his hair to try and wake him up. He kept sleeping, so you decided to take a shower. As the warm water poured over your head you thought about the way he looked at you the night before. His big brown doughy eyes that looked at you like a puppy dog. His hand on your leg, fingers playing with your hair and his charming smile. And the way you held each other until you both fell asleep. You realized that you liked him too. You had been resisting him and the idea of you two together. Especially given that you weren’t too sure how the DEA would feel about you and him having a relationship.

Would you not be able to work together catching Escobar worse get fired? You didn’t want to lose everything at work just to be with him, but you also couldn’t help but feel this way for him. Your thoughts are disrupted when you hear the shower curtain being pushed back. Javier stepped in behind you and came close, pressing his chest against your back. You kept your eyes closed as he wrapped his hands around your waist. He started placing light kisses on your neck and you reached up behind to cup his face. You could feel his cock getting hard on your ass and you reached down to stroke him. He groaned into your ear as he cupped your breasts.

“Mind if I stay?” He whispered

You spun in his arms and looked into his eyes. That same loving look from last night appeared on his face and you knew that he definitely had feelings for you too. There was no turning back now. For either of you. So you accepted that you were also in love with him and leaned into kiss him. It was passionate, with full force. He pushed your back against the shower wall, cupped your face with one hand while the other was planted on the wall beside your head. You moved up against him and moved your leg slowly up to his waist. He dropped his hand and immediately groped your thigh.

“Wanna stay in here or take this back to the bed?” He asked

“I don’t think we’ve ever done it in the shower before” you remarked

“We haven’t” he smirked

You reached back down the stroke his cock and smiled at him.

“Well Agent Peña…” you said as you continued touching him. “What do you want?”

His hands traveled along your body and settled on your waist. He spun you back around and pushed you back up against the shower wall, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back. You let out a breathy moan. You knew calling Javier “Agent Peña” turns him on. And you knew that it could make him go from the sweet man you cared about you so much, into a man hungry with lust. It makes him want to be in charge.

“I want you. And I suggest you behave. Got it?”

You moaned in agreement and nodded. He slapped your ass and tightened his grip around your wrists.

“Words sweetheart…”

“Yes sir…I’ll…I’ll be good” you reply somewhat begrudgingly.

Javier and you had this game sometimes when hooking up. You knew whenever you called him by his formal title, he was going to want to ravish you And you liked to give into him sometimes. Pretend you were a suspect or one of Escobar’s whores. It excited you, in a way you didn’t even know was possible. Makes you feel on edge and you like the anticipation that had control over you. Sex with Javier was usually always good, but when he was trying to find out where the next shipment was going to come in or where Escobar was going to be next he definitely had a few tricks up his sleeve. A few tricks to get girls to talk in bed.

Then he spun you back around as he grabbed your ass again. He rubbed his hand over it and slid it down in between your thighs. His fingers started rubbing your folds and you started melting up against the wall. Letting go of your wrists, he held you closer to him so your back was against his chest. He started pinching and twisting your nipples with his free hand. You let out a series of moans and whines. The hand in between your thigh snaked up and began to rub your clit. His fingers traced over it before pressing down and rubbing in a tight circle. You moaned and arched your back. He moved his hand across your sternum and pushed your back against his chest.

“Don’t move too much sweetheart” Javier demanded. “Just stay right here”

You held onto his biceps now that both of your hands were free. Your legs were shaking and everything around you was going fuzzy.

“Goddamn Peña you make me feel so good.” You whined

“I bet if you were actually one of Escobars girls I’d get information out of you real easy.”

You let out a mix between a moan and a laugh

“You flatter yourself Agent Peña”

With that he pushed you up against the shower wall some more you steadied yourself with your hands. You gasped in surprise at his sudden dominance. He pushed your legs open slightly, his hand grabbing the insides of your thighs. Then you felt the tip of his cock push into you and gasped.

“Would you tell me now?” He asked nipping on my ear lobe

“You’re going to have to do more than that to get anything out of me”

With that he pushed all the way inside you. He felt so full, so big. You couldn’t help but let out a long, staggering moan, but you weren’t about to say anything to him, about how good it felt. Not even say his name. It’s what he was trying to get out of you in this little game of yours. He started pumping in and out of you slowly at first, but he soon picked up his pace. You only let out a few soft moans as he worked his hips against your ass. You weren’t going to let him win that quickly, yet the pleasure was agonizingly good. He started pounding into you and you could barely contain your whimpers. His hand came down and sharply landed on your ass. He smacked it again and again. Each time you couldn’t help but let him hear you.

“Got more to tell me sweetheart?”

You shook your head and he growled into your ear

“C’mon now I know you wanna talk to me. At least tell me how good it feels”

You didn’t reply and he smacked your ass one last time. He pulled out abruptly, spun you around and turned the water off.

“I know what will make you talk…” he smirked

You stared up at him doe eyed, somewhat confused and scared and somewhat in anticipation. He pulled the curtain back then scooped you up into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs dangling from the crook of his elbow. He held your naked body against his tightly and walked back into your bedroom. He threw you down on the bed and you let out a slight yelp. He crawled on top of you and started kissing you again.

“If you won’t talk to me from me fucking you…then I guess I’ll just torture you with my tongue.” He whispered

He worked his way down your entire body, kissing every inch slowly. He was methodically in his actions. Kissing, sucking, and nipping on your flesh like an animal that just caught its prey. He slowly reached your core and began teasing the inside of your thigh with his lips and tongue. Your hand moved down to grab his head and move him where you wanted. He bit down on your thigh, giving it a hard slap, and looked up at you.

“If you want me somewhere specific you’re gonna have to use your words.”

You groaned in response

You watched him as he went back to teasing you. His mouth drew closer and closer to your clit, until finally. Your hips bucked up in his face slightly as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. He held you down and started really going for it. He ate you out like he was starving for you. Javier lapped you up, sucking and teasing your core. His tongue was relentless and kept bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He could sense it too. So he kept you on edge for a while. Javier pulled back, gawking at you as your eyes and pouty lips silently begged him to return his mouth to your slit. He slowly rubbed you as he admired you. He stroked himself with his free hand and bent back down to kiss your thighs.

You squirmed when his lips touched your skin again, so desperate to cum for him. Javier kissed your clit again, his soft affectionate demeanor driving you crazy. You wanted to cry out, but you held back, still remembering that he’s trying to coax you into telling him how good he makes you feel. How bad you crave him. Javier made eye contact with you as he tasted you, his tongue delicately danced over your folds. You bit down on your lip hard, eyes never leaving his. He pulled back again, catching his breath. He rubbed your clit again as he looked at you.

“C’mon baby. Why don’t you tell me how good it feels hmm? C’mon let me hear you.” Javier nearly begged but you just shook your head. His face changed as he scoffed at you.

“Fine. Gonna be a stubborn little thing hmm? Two can play at that game.” He said, removing his fingers. You buck your hips up at the loss of his hand, your face scrunched up disappointment. He sat up on his knees and beckoned you to him. You crawled forward, eyes never leaving his. With his cock in one hand, he stroked the side of your face

“Well if you're not going to speak, then maybe you can use your mouth in a different way hmm?” He suggested. He cups your face and draws you close to his crotch.

You opened your sweet little mouth, and he traced your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. You opened and took him into your mouth. He was so big, and you could feel the tip as it prodded the back of your throat. You gagged slightly and he cooed at you. He pumped into you, loving the way your lips became fat and plumb. He held the back of your head and he continued moving his hips. Javier tilts his head back in bliss, his grip getting slightly tighter in your hair. He looks down for a moment, reaching for your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

“Fuck that’s good.” He quipped. He looked back down at your mouth then back up at your ass. He ran his hand in-between your cheeks and started to rub your slick folds. His actions caught you off guard and you popped your mouth off his length. You moaned and gasped as your legs started to give out.

“Oh there she is. Can’t help it now hmm? Come on, tell me how good it feels.”

You held back for as long as possible, biting down hard on your bottom lip until you can’t help it anymore.

“Mmm mmm ooh fuck Javi fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..” you finally cried out, your legs shaking uncontrollably. You duck your head down, face against the mattress as Javier made you cum. You convulsed on his hand. He smiled, his satisfaction ever so apparent.

“Thaaaats it. Oh fuuuck, you’re so pretty baby. So pretty cumming for me like this” he moaned

You stared back up at him, eyes slightly wet and glossy from having him down your throat. With a finger under your chin, he guided your lips back up to his. As he kissed you, he gently pushed you back on your back and you spread your legs for him. He wanted to tease you still, catching you while you're still a babbling mess. He rubs your clit as he pushes himself inside you. It was overwhelming at first, and you clenched around his cock.

“Javi…I-I oh fuck your gonna make me cum again” you squealed

“Good. Tell me who makes you feel good hmm?”

“Y-you Javier ok. You win you win you win, I fuck, I-I…”

“Go on. Say it. Say it to me.”

“I want you. Not just, not just like hooking up…I want all of you please…please…”

The admission stumbled out of you and you almost regretted it as you said it but Javier simply smiled. As he pumped into, he leaned down and kissed you

“Ohh I want you too. I have for a while.”

His passion overtook him and he sped up his hips. He was practically possessed, letting his brain go numb as he continued to drill into you. Your fucked out face gawked at him, continuously looking at his face and then at the place where his cock had entered you. The feeling of pleasure consumed you, he felt so full and deep in you. You never wanted this to end and neither did he. Javier kissed you frantically, savoring you.

“That’s all I really wanted this whole time. To know you wanted me too.” He whispered

You nodded and he pumped into you more deliberately.

“Christ baby you feel so good. Not gonna last much longer.”

Mhmm go on. Fill me up. Fuck pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease…” you beg over and over again until he came. His cum spilled into you, feeling warm and filling. He took a moment to catch his breath, kissing all over your face as he did.

“Mmm Javier, we’re going to be in so much trouble…” you muffled as he kissed you

“You really think…” he kissed you “that we should worry about that” he kissed you again “right now. In this moment”

You sighed against him and shook your head

“I hope you have a plan for figuring this out.”

“You know I’ll figure it out baby.” He smiled cockily

He cupped your face and continued to kiss you over and over again. You slowly melted into his touch and so did your anxiety. At that moment you didn’t care. You had him, as much as you had tried to resist him, you wanted him and now, now you had him.

꧁✹❂✹���



[hs-is-loml]

Avoid. (x.t)

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Reader

Summary: blurb! after thinking about something bianca said to you a few days ago, you started to create a small distance from your boyfriend. which of course he noticed.

Warnings: established relationship, self-doubt, the smallest bit of angst, fluff ending

a/n: okay, so i ended up not reading my textbook, and worked on other things instead... but anyways enough about that just remember you are always more than enough<3

masterlist

“You look awfully lonely,” a voice said from beside you. "You mind if I join?"

Your gaze moved from the pavement to a pair of green eyes that you knew far too well.

“I was enjoying a moment of peace actually,” you responded to the boy before you continued to look ahead at the path in front of you that led into the city.

“Moment of peace or are you avoiding me?” Xavier countered with his eyebrows raised giving you a knowing look.

“No, I definitely think it was for a moment of peace,” you replied pausing for a second. “From you…”

“I KNEW IT!”

“You don’t have to be so loud, it’s only us,” you laughed at the boy’s reaction.

“Wait. Why have you been avoiding me? You haven’t even responded to my texts earlier,” Xavier asked with a worried tone.

“I ran into someone a few days ago, and they made me realized something,” you answered wanting to move on from the topic.

“And what did they make you realized?”

“That I shouldn’t get to attached.”

“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard,” Xavier uttered.

“Xavier, it’s nothing personal,” you lied. “I don’t want to hold you back.”

What really happened was a few days ago Bianca came up to you sprouting thoughts of doubt about your relationship with Xavier throughout your mind. She talked about how this was only temporary for him until he would eventually get bored and come back to her. You knew that wouldn’t actually happen, but it didn’t stop you from creating more distance between you and Xavier for the past few days.

“I think you ignoring me is definitely personal,” he scoffed. “Y/n, it takes two people to be in a relationship.”

“Which two people,” you said under your breathe though he was still able to pick up what you whispered.

“No, seriously, what is your problem with me right now?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” you snapped quickening your pace to walk ahead of him. “You always go back to her don’t you?”

“Who?” Xavier asked in the most utter confusion.

“Bianca.”

“Why would I go back to her? I have you.”

“What if I not enough?” you blurted out stopping in your tracks to turn around and face him.

“You are more enough. You’re all I need,” Xavier walked closer to you.

“I-”

“You are the only person that I want,” he wrapped his arms around you allowing you to lean your head against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized.

“No, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“No, I do. I shouldn’t have let Bianca have that much power over our relationship,” you admitted. “I was just scared that what if you got bored with being with me?”

“How could I ever get bored? I could stare at you for hours,” he laughed.

“You’re only saying that because you need a model to draw,” you pushed him away laughing.

“I don’t need a model if you’re my muse,” he joked.

“Maybe I was right for avoiding you.” you said walking faster to the city.

“Wait! Hey! NO MORE AVOIDING.”

[btsydtrash]

Ego [9]

mafia bts x stripper yn; hybrid universe

Everyone had heard of the Dirty7s, even distantly. Nobody could put names or faces to the members, but the name was enough to strike fear into the hearts of civilians, criminals, and law enforcement alike. They’re known to be methodical, impenetrable, and most of all, merciless. Nobody wants to cross any of them. Lest of all you - a college student stripping to pay her debts.

What happens when you fall into their web of deceit and lies?

What happens when you find that you don’t want to escape, even when you know you should?

Masterlist  /  i don’t have a tag list  /  find me on twitter  /  word count: 1.8k

AN: Here we go again! crime syndicate BTS X stripper yn. I’ll post this on AO3 too. Some of BTS are humans, some are hybrids. They all are obsessed with Reader. Reader is black in my headcanon.

(yandere / angst / gore / fluff / smut / violence / none )

trigger warnings: hey.... I'm back! yn is depressed. she's suffering a lot but she's not alone. nothing of significance. just needed to get this out after so long. I'll be back soon with more drama!

“Breaking News: The body of an African-American Beta hybrid was found dismembered and abandoned under a bridge in East Point. East Point is known for its houseless and opiate-dependent population. Many new strains of synthetic drugs are being released onto the streets, made accessible to vulnerable, unmated Omegas. Markings found on the body indicate the involvement of a gang widely known as the Dirty7s. The Dirty7s are an anonymous group with links to…”

The TV drones on in the background but you don’t hear it. Well, you can’t hear it. You hadn’t been paying much attention to anything for the last few days. How many? You’ve got no idea. It’s been enough for your hair to start smelling bad anyway.

You walk out of the bathroom, dropping the towel as you go, grabbing the big t-shirt with Thandi’s face on it and pulling it on. You had gotten a couple from the funeral from Thandi’s mom. She had made them, gotten them pressed at a local tailor’s place to raise some money for the funeral. You knew how expensive it was to die. Flashes of your mothers face fly in front of your eyes before you can stop it and they make you wince. You tried to pay but Thandi’s mom had refused your money. “My Thandi told me all about you,” she had said, holding your hand so tightly it almost hurt, but you didn’t complain. In fact, the sting-burn sensation grounded you, and you felt yourself get lost in her deep, knowledgable eyes. She might have just lost her daughter, but it seems as if she had already experienced a lifetime’s worth of pain. It made you ache. “You… You were her friend. She loved you so much.”

And then you felt it again, the guilt-driven nausea.

It was the first time you met her mom, but you knew all about her daughter, Sana. The young girl, only eight years old, stood solitarily, as the preacher droned on and on about ‘eternal bliss’ and ‘blessed memories’ and ‘living on in memory’. The expression on her face, you knew it so well. It was as if nothing was making sense to her mind. She was so sad, so lost, so lonely. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her throughout the funeral. She looked around at all of the people at her mother’s funeral, curious yet careful, quiet and withdrawn, before turning her eyes to the coffin at the front of the church and biting down on her bottom lip. She didn’t make a sound, not a peep - the whole time.

They opted for a closed casket because well… What other option was there? The truth of Thandi’s death wasn’t lost on the participants of her funeral but it was bad manners to bring it up. The thought alone was enough to bring bile to your throat so fast, it made your head spin. You rush to the bathroom and spit up in the toilet. Just a little bit this time, thankfully. You swill your mouth out and walk to grab something from the refrigerator. It took you days to realize that someone had come into your apartment while you had been at the funeral and had fixed certain things.

The fridge had been filled. The pile of dishes washed. The laundry had been taken and washed and returned all clean and folded. The bed had been spread. The rug had been moved around and vacuumed. The bathroom had been straightened out.

Once you had come to your senses, you burst into grateful tears.

You knew who it was.

He had left a t-shirt of his, saturated in his scent and so big it drowned your body in material, in your closet for you to sleep in.

You take a glance at the t-shirt again, wrapped around a big pillow on your bed, and you sigh, getting into bed once more, hair still damp at the roots of your head. 

Your phone lay on the table beside your bed, silent but charging, and you take a second to look at it before you grab it and make a call.

It doesn’t ring but for two times before you hear his voice on the other end of the line.

“Hello, YN,” Jungkook says, quietly.

You don’t answer. You can’t find your mouth, you can’t feel it well. Your tongue feels fuzzy and heavy, like a weight is sitting on it.

“YN…?”

Jungkook pauses slightly before the sound of him shifting his weight comes through the receiver.

He asks, softly, “Do you need me?”

You are still quiet, but you let out a light sigh through your nose. It’s the loudest you’ve been in days.

No. I don’t need anyone, you want to say. But again, more silence. Your tongue is too heavy. Your stomach is rolling and your head feels all loopy. You can't imagine where all these good hormones are coming from, flooding your system with flickers of light and ease and warmth and syrupy goodness.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, gently. “I’ll stay on the phone as long as you need.”

Another sigh.

He takes a moment to think before he says, a certain chipperness in his tone, “Shall I tell you about my day, Pretty?”

A final sigh, and you turn over to your side, phone pressed to your cheek. If you were more present in your body, it probably would hurt.

Jungkook sounds as if he reclines in his seat as he begins telling you all about his day.

“It’s been mostly boring. I woke up at 5:30. I went to the gym for a couple of hours. I boxed and ran and did some weights. I think I could press three of you, you know, Pretty? You're so little compared to me. Sorry. I got distracted. Then, I showered and ate breakfast with Tae. You haven’t met him yet, right? I think you’d like him. A lot. Anyway. After, I met Jimin for some work-related stuff. Very boring. Do you want me to tell you about it, Pretty?”

He doesn’t let you get a sigh out before he continues.

“I didn’t think so. Then, after hours of back and forth, I went to go pick up my suit. We have a fancy dinner to go to this weekend. It’s Jin-hyung’s birthday.”

His voice gets all syrupy and warm, and it twists and rolls in your stomach all hot and uncomfortable. Why does his happiness make you feel so bothered?

“-and after we finish at DeMaggio’s, Joonie-hyung says we’re going on a helicopter ride around the city. Would you like to do that one day? Should I invite you? I can do that, you know. I don’t think Hyung would mind.”

The thought alone makes you snort.

He pauses and then, when he talks again, his voice seems relieved.

“You laughed, Pretty.”

You blink, somewhat surprised. He wasn’t lying. You did laugh, breathy and weak as it was.

“Pretty, you know I miss you so much, right?”

You close your eyes tightly at his words, lip getting sucked between your teeth.

He takes a moment to ask, quietly, almost needy, “Do you miss me?”

Your throat gets all tight and thick, and you feel horrible all over again. He hears you choke on something, because his voice gets all flighty, worried and concerned over the phone, as he peppers you with soft words.

“You don’t have to say it.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Please, don’t cry.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

And then, he pauses and says the one thing you both craved and dreaded to hear.

“She wouldn’t want you to be this angry with yourself,” he says. Then, with more confidence, he claims, “You’re allowed to be happy.”

You cut off the phone before the sobs take over once more.

////

Jungkook taps the edge of his phone on the table a few times before he curses to himself. The wolf glances up from his spot in the corner of Yoongi’s office and asks, “You think I pushed her too much?”

 Yoongi looks over the top of his book and remarks, “It isn’t the end of the world, Kookie. Relax. You did a good job with the cleaner. She probably is sleeping next to the t-shirt you gave her and she called you, of all people she could’ve called.”

Jungkook bites his bottom lip and admits, “I’m getting frustrated.”

Yoongi pushes, lightly, “With?”

He puts the book to the side, knowing full well that he wasn’t getting any more ��him-time’ while the wolf was occupying his personal office in their home. He loved each of his brothers dearly, however… Fuck, he needed his own place sometimes.

“Being patient,” the wolf explains, glibly. “It’s all so fucking boring.”

“Then occupy yourself with things that matter,” Yoongi suggests, moving to his feet. “I think Tae might be done with the guy downstairs, if you want a turn to pummel something moving?”

“The fucker’s still alive? Tae’s losing his touch,” Jungkook remarks, amusedly. He wasn’t lying. Usually, Tae would have had him chopped into tiny pieces and thrown into a river or incinerated. Jungkook wonders why he’s taking his time.

Yoongi snorts, pushing his glasses into his hair. He only needs them when his eyes start to get dry, like now. He usually didn’t use his other form, preferring to be in his natural hybrid state when in the comfort of their own home, but he’s been testing his personal limits recently, worried that he might freak YN out with his skin, his eyes, his tongue… She was prey, at the end of the day. He probably should have the lights off but he doesn’t want to ruin the mood. “Not even. Jin won’t let him die. He keeps zapping him with the AFIB machine. I heard he shitted himself.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have been fucking around, pretending to be something he’s not,” Jungkook replies, an annoyed look passing over his face. The younger of the two moves to his feet and he asks, “Say, hyung.” His tone of voice catches Yoongi’s attention, so he sits up a little more in his comfy office chair, eye brow quirking so as to prompt the wolf to continue speaking. “Do you think YN will actually come to understand us?”

Yoongi pauses to mull over his answer for a few seconds before he answers, honestly, "I don’t think she has a choice.”

Jungkook acknowledges his answer with a melancholy look on his face.

Then, he glances down at his Rolex and makes a small noise of glee. “I’ve got a spare hour. I think Tae might be a little fatigued.”

Yoongi snorts before reaching back for the book. His eyes are getting awfully dry. Suddenly, the lights flick off and Jungkook glances back from his spot at the door, a narrow line of yellowed light slightly warming the room.

“Hyung, you know I always know, right?”

Yoongi scoffs. “Get the fuck out of here, pup.”

Jungkook closes the door and Yoongi finally switches back to his natural form, eyes narrowing into slits and he reaches for his book once more, settling comfortably into his chair.

It just started getting good, too.

- end - 

Schemer (1), Abstentious (2), Thievery (3), Melancholy (4), Writhing (5), Lusting (6), Non-negotiable (7), Cutting the cord (8), Nevertheless (9)

[1d1195]

Protection Extra IV

Read Protection here | ~1.8k words

From me: I really got to thinking about this idea from 🎶-ask. It is short, but hopefully it's enough. I've missed them loads. This is back within the first year of their official dating. I mentioned I would be jumping time frames a bit with these extras, so here it is.

Warnings: a little angsty. But fluffy overtones. Harry's just a protective guy. Also, the tiniest bit of smut but you have to squint and read between the lines. Mostly heavy making out and a little bit of touching.

Summary: Harry might not work for DSS anymore in the same way he used to. He doesn't guard her life because it's his job. He guards it because it's his life; her entire being is his and he would lose his mind (worse) if something happened to her.

She does not care to the same capacity as him. (But she does feel bad about it at least.)

“You said I could,” he frowned. The little scrunch between his eyebrows appeared when he concentrated. She loved it endlessly. Even if what he was asking was ridiculous. So as much as she loved that little furrow between his eyebrows, she was not going to cave. Instead, she smoothed her fingers on the bunch of skin and cupped his cheek with her hand. He turned into her hand and kissed her palm.

“Like as a joke, Harry,” she rolled her eyes she dropped her hand and returned to her previous position. She couldn’t see his face. But it didn’t matter. She already knew what faces he made any time she annoyed him anyway.

It was insane they were even having this conversation. Harry broached it so casually too. They were snuggled on the sofa, her body resting in his embrace. His knees bent around either side of her body and she laid across his torso. She fit so warmly against him it was hard to believe he was even asking her such a thing because the idea she would ever leave the circle of his arms was ridiculous.

“Okay,” he sighed. It was obvious he was frustrated by the decision. Her head was close enough to his mouth that he could kiss the top of her hair, so he did. He ran one hand up and down her arm sitting in the quiet while he held her safely in his arms. It was his favorite part of the day, holding her close to him where he knew nothing bad was going to happen. He wouldn’t let it.

Obviously, she took his silence as plotting to convince her. Which he could never. He knew that. He knew he would have an easier time convincing a fish to walk than telling her what to do. “I literally have my phone on me all the time and now you know about my shoe trick.”

He sighed. “But y’didn't have y'phone,” he reminded her. “No shoes either.”

There was that; she would allow him that much. “Well, there's no more threat, so I don't need—”

"Kitten," he sighed rubbing a hand over his face. He was exasperated. “I don’t want t’talk ‘bout this anymore,” he mumbled.

She frowned feeling bad she upset him. But he was thinking way too far over the top. “No one is even going to remember me anymore,” she whispered quietly. “He’s in jail for a really long time,” she reminded him. He didn’t answer her. “Harry,” she whispered. “Talk to me.”

“I already said I don’t want t’talk ‘bout it anymore.”

Her frown deepened and she sighed; feeling like the worst girlfriend in the world because she wouldn’t put a tracking device in her arm. “I have the scrunchie, too; for when you’re away,” she reminded him. He nodded, still silent. “Harry,” she sat up on her knees, so she could look at him. He was so pretty, all soft skin and angular. He was so handsome it made her swoon on a regular basis, and he was all hers. But she had to stand her ground.

His eyes looked sad, tired. Too sad. “M’not trying t’be controlling.”

“Of course not, Harry. I know—”

“Honey,” he interrupted.

Her heart skipped a beat because for whatever reason, when he called her honey, it made her lose all rational thought. It seemed like the conversation was far more serious than when he called her kitten, love, or even Miss Wildflower. She felt like she was nothing more than a container of the very sweet goop he called her. “I talked ‘bout this with m’therapist and we... I know m’being... crazy,” he frowned. He cupped the side of her face as he spoke so softly. Like all of this was a secret. “But... I was insanely lucky,” he reminded her. “Y’were brilliant,” he complimented. “I told you ‘bout a fail safe in passing and y’had been planning all along. I was completely blindsided by y’departure. Every step you had planned was perfect. But if y’didn’t have an AirTag, I wouldn’t have found you,” he admitted. She didn’t speak because his compliment was too nice. She didn’t think about it all that much. Mainly because she didn’t like thinking about betraying Harry the way she did. It was nearly a year ago and he was still worried. It probably killed him to admit that out loud. Because it was his job at the time, and he wouldn’t have been able to find her. But it wasn’t just his job. He loved her so completely.

If something happened to her, she really believed Harry wouldn’t survive the guilt. He barely forgave himself for her injured leg and she wasn’t convinced he fully forgave himself for that either.

She turned toward his palm in the same way he had and kissed his hand softly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “You don’t need t’apologize, kitten. Y’didn’t do anything wrong.”

She took a deep breath. She had her own therapist and they had also discussed a lot about her hyper-independence. Even with someone like Harry to rely on because she could, and he wouldn’t ever judge her. “I’m not...” she swallowed. “I had people follow me around for years, Harry,” she reminded him.

“I know—”

She pressed a finger to his lips gently. “I couldn’t do what I wanted ninety percent of my life, Harry,” she reminded him. “Do you know what it’s like to want to go to the mall to get new jeans because yours ripped and someone tells you that you can’t? Or that you want to go to a new frozen yogurt place with friends, but you’re not allowed to? If I forgot a vegetable for dinner, I couldn’t run to the store and back without it being a production,” he didn’t know what any of that felt like; not really. He only knew it from the end of production. The part of it all she didn’t like. So, he stayed quiet. “If you texted me every five minutes for the rest of our lives, asking where I was, I would tell you every. Single. Time,” she assured him locking her gaze with his. He felt it in his stomach, the way she looked at him. She meant every word she spoke. “If you put a tracking device in me it’ll... it’ll just feel like the rest of my life. Unable to make decisions on my own. Unable to live freely,” she told him. “You have my location through my phone. I am more than willing to have that scrunchie on my wrist and in my hair when you’re not within a couple hours of me,” she promised thinking about the weekend he spent with his mom. She wondered how long he stared at the little blipping dot that told him she was safe and in her house for most of the time he was gone. “Those AirTags saved my life because you told me I needed a failsafe, Harry. You saved me.”

His gaze dropped from hers and they were quiet. Harry didn’t like the compliment. He felt like he didn’t do a good job because she nearly drowned and had a scar on her thigh that made him want to smack his head on the wall for letting those things happen to her. Silently, she settled back into his arms, her ear resting so she had the perfect sound of his heart thudding against her.

“Harry?” She whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

He smiled, kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too,” his head dropped back against the arm of the sofa and he squeezed her. He thought of all those days she studied on the ground and how they were always this close to snuggling this way. “M’sorry m’so nervous,” he mumbled. “I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself,” he pressed his nose just behind her ear, like he was tracing the outline of her hair behind it.

“I think if I had a tracking device, you wouldn’t enjoy your life. Wouldn’t take your eyes off it.”

He thought of visiting his mother back in March and how the anxiety built and fell over and over as he looked at the little blip telling him where her scrunchie was. She was right. He would have it on every screen he owned if he knew her exact location. “You’re right.”

“Oh, that had to have hurt,” she giggled and kissed his throat.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re a genius, kitten. M’happy t’say you’re right.” It was embarrassing how those words turned her on. A shiver rippled through her. No one loved her as much as Harry. No one trusted her instinct, her intelligence, or judgement as much as he did. But it was more than that. Because Harry knew people didn’t believe her for years. People misjudged her abilities because of her father and circumstance. They didn’t believe in her. So it was like he had complimented how pretty she looked (which she did) when he said she was right. It wasn’t an ego thing. “Did y’like that, honey?” He hummed his lips nipping at her earlobe as he spoke.

Harry knew exactly how much she liked that.

“Off,” she ordered shoving his shirt up his torso. It didn’t matter than she had seen him without a shirt hundreds of times since the day they warmed up in his car after the icy dip in the water when he saved her life a second time in one week. She liked to feel the hard ripples of his stomach and he had promised she could look as much as she wanted once she was warm.

Well now she was warm. “Yes, ma’am,” he pulled it off the rest of the way and pulled her in to kiss her as deeply as he could before he pushed her back to the opposite end of the couch and settled between her legs. “Say it,” he whispered, not quite begging. But he wanted to hear it. Because it made him feel better. It made him worry less about all the thoughts they had discussed in the last hour. He carefully shifted her leg as if he was worried it was the very same day she nearly bled out. He slipped his hand between their bodies feeling her through her leggings.

She moaned softly while he kissed the length of her throat and brushed his lips against the swell of her chest as she tried to maintain enough air to speak before she was lost in Harry and all his perfection.

She had no problem saying it. Because it was true. Truer than most anything she believed in her life. Harry was hers and he was going to protect her in any way he could even if she wasn't willing to put a tracking device in her body. “I’m all yours,” she promised breathlessly.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

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@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @madstyles3204

@angeldavis777

Protection taglist: @youcouldstartacult @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @luxiorchive @ameerakane20 @be-with-me-so-happily

@cherryshouse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @cherrystyle @kaiohnsa @snwells

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[jji-lee]

maybe it was jeno’s ‘good luck’ or the 3 shots of tequila that he had just downed with haechan, but mark was feeling very optimistic about finding you. he wandered around the frat house, stopping to greet some sexy wonder womans, just in case meeting you doesn’t go as planned, until he was led out onto the house’s patio.

it was mainly men back there, the march winds much too cold for any girl’s skimpy costume. just as he was about to leave he spotted an attractive looking girl with cat ears, well, mark couldn’t see her face per se… but her ass looked attractive. he prayed that this kitty was his mystery girl, because he might just leave this party with her and not you, not like you really knew who he was anyways.

as he approached you, he noticed the empty drink in your hand, eyes roaming the patio, hopefully looking for him.

“hey… kento girl?”

he saw your eyes widen slightly, pink cheeks peeking out from under your mask. score.

“uh yeah, you’re long lee? god that name sounds stupid when you say it out loud.”

you both chuckled at the mention of his dirty username. since when did his mask start feeling so hot? his hands reached towards your mask-

“nuh uh, we said we’d keep our masks on remember?”

mark would have to fuck you without seeing your face first, and to be honest, with a body like yours he didn’t really mind. he thought of his wise friend haechan’s words worst case scenario, just put her in doggy style and problem solved.

“sooo this is weird right, meeting officially but not knowing who we are.”

his mask muffled his speech, blaring music making it even harder to hear him, you reached towards his neck softly pulling his face down to meet yours, smiling before turning your ear towards him.

“sorry i can’t really hear you that well, what did you say?”

ok yes, you had heard his question, but what’s the harm in a little flirting? and clearly it was working as he stuttered his response out.

“um i was saying uh that it’s weird right you know like meeting but still not knowing who we are.”

mark was losing his mind. first of all he’s never met a girl to make the first move on him, you’re not slick, and second why did that noob level flirting actually do something to him. your cheeky smile was proof that you were proud at the fact you managed to fluster him,

“hmm i guess it is, but at least you know what half of my face looks like now, it’s only fair if you let me see half of yours.”

mark wasn’t even thinking before he pulled up his mask to reveal his lips and the bottom of his nose, feeling strangely naked in front of you (this was the most clothed he’d ever been near a girl he’s speaking to) he prayed you didn’t recognize him, what if you were a mark lee fanatic that knew him by his birthmark and you could-

“nice mustache.”

you snorted reaching up to touch his facial hair. he had forgotten to shave so caught up in the idea of meeting you tonight he had forgotten to shave. did he think that he’d keep the mask on all night? that he’d be balls deep in you, bare ass naked with a spiderman mask on? mark refuses to let a girl see him with facial hair. call it a silly superstition, but since that night drunk jisung told him that his chinese roommate had mentioned something about mustaches being bad sexual luck, mark has stayed clean shaven.

“sorry was that a bad joke, it actually does look good on you, well, looks good on half of your face.”

you smiled up at him, and suddenly he felt like maybe his luck wouldn’t be so bad tonight.

“i don’t usually go out much so shaving isn’t necessary, most girls hate it.”

lies. but he thinks so far the loser totally not frat boy thing is kinda working for him.

“i thought you didn’t talk to girls huh, are you a secret player my sweet romeo?”

this loser gets no girls thing was totally working for him. how did you get lucky enough to get matched with a nice guy who isn’t just interested in sex and (from seeing half his face) doesn’t seem to be completely unattractive? flirting didn’t come so easy for you, but those jello shots you had taken with chenle at the entrance seemed to finally be soaking into your blood stream. he chuckled nervously,

“yeah and what if i am?”

“then you’d have to go talk to another sexy cat woman tonight, sorry.”

you both knew you weren’t going anywhere as tension started to build. the cool air seemed to fade away as heat grew between the two of you. playful banter was always your favorite type of foreplay and spiderman’s nervous reactions to your flirting was only making you more excited.

“but if you reallyyy want me to stay i may need some convincing, maybe a little hmmm”

you pointed at your lips, slightly puckering them as you pretended to think.

“oh yeah?”

you didn’t even have to look up to hear the smirk in his tone. you smiled wide,

“only if that’s okay with you of course, i know you’re not too good with girls.”

his hands came out to grab your waist and slightly tug you towards him, your chest meeting his. a small gasp escaped you making him smile. he brought his face down to yours, breath fanning against your lips.

“you sure about this my juliet?”

you nodded slowly causing your lips to brush, and that seemed to be what finally broke the tension. his lips pressed against yours a soft groan coming from him. your arms came up to wrap around his neck pulling him impossibly closer. you slightly parted your lips allowing him access to your mouth, which of course he happily accepted, his tongue came out quickly to interlock with yours both of your mouths moving is sync. his sneaky hands came down to grab your ass slowly massaging the muscle. damn when was the last time you got laid? definitely not long enough to make you take this mystery man home with you, that’s for sure. you pulled away from him making sure to unstick his hands from your latex covered ass, if he had kept his hands there any longer you have no idea what you would’ve done.

“you’re a pretty good kisser mr. romeo.”

“not so bad yourself my juliet”

his hands reached out again to grab your waist again,

“we can take this somewhere more private if you want.”

oh if only he knew how much you wanted to.

“mmm i don’t think so, not tonight at least, we just met, and i have no idea who you are-“

he went to pull the rest of his mask off but you grabbed his hands stopping him.

“no! i mean not in a bad way just, no i don’t wanna know just yet!”

he let out a sigh, you could see his cheeks burn red from embarrassment.

“i’m gonna go meet up with my friends now okay? don’t follow me! until we meet again my romeo.”

you gave him a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing into the house.

“what the fuck just happened”

mark looked down at his now tight spiderman suit, did you just blue ball him?

𖦹 .ᐣ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ cryptic crush — [6] zoo wee mama

previous — masterlist — next

notes : surpriseee i’m posting this early cause i feel bad for making you wait 😔 plot twist chenle’s roommate is jisung that’s how jisung knew she was hot earlier in the smau!!!

taglist : @sunghoonsgfreal , @dalsosapple , @nanaxwi , @neverbeurs , @miichellehciim , @h-aechanie , @hizhu , @mystverse , @wonwootakemyheart , @ppeachyttae , @jae-n0 , @onlyhyunjin , @alethea-moon , @onyourmark-99 , @sunnystarred , @p-d1ddy , @hisrkive , @flwrs4marklee , @haechskiss , @rutheaflowers , @busy-daydreaming02 , @byeonwooseokabs , @bunniin , @odxrilove , @candied-czennie , @injunnie-lemon , @sunflowerhae , @nosungluv , @222brainrot , @vklve , @aerivrs , @slayhaechan , @aek1ra , @honeynanamin , @roseangelxfuma

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 6 part 2/2

Masterpost

‘Ouch,’ Tim thought gleefully as Bruce got his constipated expression. Damian was definitely pretending he thought it was admirable to frighten hapless Justice League niceguys. Damian knew better now. Damian even liked Jon Kent, who was basically like a tiny Captain Marvel.

Bruce really should know that. Tim could see the calculations whirring in his mind, weighing the odds of Damian being genuine.

He knew that Damian was a lot better now. That Damian had promised not to stab anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. That Damian had made friends and was less hostile to outsiders.

Bruce wasn’t confident enough that Damian knew better. He gave in. “I will be careful with my tone around him,” Bruce said sullenly. He stabbed at his breakfast.

‘You just got played by a ten year old.’

“Thank you Daddy,” Cass chirped.

Ah well, that’s it then. Game, set, and match. Bruce lifted his face enough to aim his watery i love my kids eyes at her.

Tim left the table without comment. He quietly thanked Alfred on his way out and gave a nod to Cass. Bruce was still glaring at his eggs. He’d be at it for a while, churning through the current state of his children’s social development and the relative healthiness of his personal relationships with Justice League coworkers.

‘I wonder why Cass cares about Marvel,’ Tim wondered idly. He didn’t have the slightest hint of doubt in her assertion. If Cass said that Bruce was too harsh for Marvel, then it was true. Marvel must be sensitive. But that didn’t mean Cass would interfere to protect a grown man from her dad’s growly temper. Maybe she had a crush? Marvel was pretty good-looking, if you were sick enough to be into hunky men with perfect teeth who were never rude to anyone and appeared to have no dark past. Sort of like crushing on that one cartoon surfer in the juice ads…

It was a minor puzzle piece that Tim tucked away for another time. 

He hung out in his room until it was time to get ready. Then Tim jogged down the stairs to the Batcave, humming under his breath.

Jason of all the people was already there, scowling at the screen. 

“Why are you up?” Tim asked. Didn’t he usually, sleep off half the day after a long patrol? Jason had been on the long shift last night.

Tim got a massively shitty expression from Jason  in return. “Patrol ended hours ago, dipstick. I’ve already slept.”

‘Those under eye circles say otherwise,’ Tim thought judgmentally. But he just shrugged. “Fair enough.” He breezed past to open up his equipment locker. 

“What are you doing?” Jason spun his chair around to watch. “Are you meeting Cass?”

Tim blinked. “No?” He unhooked his undersuit and pulled his t-shirt off over his head. He went to toss it in and then thought better of it. Tim conscientiously folded it so that there were no asshole comments from the peanut gallery. “Why do you ask?”

Jason thumbed at the cameras. “Because she’s leaving. Just got her green jacket from the living room.” He jutted his lower lip out. “I don’t know of anything on her schedule today.”

Huh. Tim stopped mid-motion. “There wasn’t anything on the master calendar,” he said slowly. He gave Jason a sideways look. “What are the odds of you following her?”

Jason looked tempted. “She’ll be mad if she notices me.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. It was just the truth. “But she’ll know you’re doing it because you’re worried about it, so she can’t get too mad. She got electrocuted yesterday. I’m not really sure she should be out unsupervised.”

Jason’s whole face twitched. “Yeah.”

‘Ah,’ Tim realized. ‘He already read her report. That’s probably why he came in.’

“You’re going to Amity.” Jason said it like it was an order, not a question. Tim nodded anyway and shucked his sweatpants. He started pulling on the sweat-wicking undersuit. “Yeah, alright.” Jason stood up with a scrape of the chair. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“You’re the best there’s ever been,” Tim lied earnestly. “I really appreciate it. I know that everyone else would say-”

“You’re a dick,” Jason said, and left the batcave quickly before Tim could say anything else nice to him.

Tim felt a lot better about leaving Gotham after that conversation. Jason was a huge angry clucking mother hen. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Cass. And Tim could be useful at the source of the problem without his attention split in worrying.

He clicked on his comms and switched to the YJ frequency. “Red Robin is on.”

The line clicked. “Wondergirl is here,” Cassie said happily. “You’re welcome, peons. I’m in the air already.”

“We’ll owe you forever, princess,” Kon snarked. “When can we kiss your boots?”

“You can kiss my a-”

“No chatter on the comms.” Tim typed up the mission start and sent it to the right file, marking that he was taking the jet. “I’ll see you in Amity.”

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // THREE

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: You have your first day at the Royal Fire Academy, where you meet the other girls, including Kaho.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.1k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: zuko in his letters (sage, wise, cool and collected) vs zuko irl (SOO fucking awkward)

To His Royal Highness The Prince Zuko,

I apologize for my earlier language. In truth, it feels strange for me to speak to you as if you were my friend. I think that it is because you are my benefactor, and a prince besides, so there is a need for formal and proper conduct. We have that kind of relationship, if you can see it from my perspective.

Your offer of help is greatly appreciated, though I am not quite sure what I have done to deserve it. I shall try to solve my troubles on my own, when I can, but if it should come to it, I will try to remember that I have the prince of the Fire Nation on my side. I wonder how many girls at the academy can claim that, indeed!

Anyways, my roommate is nice. Her name is Jia-Li, and she is self-reportedly average, but all told, we get along well enough. I wish I could say the same for the rest of my classmates — barring, naturally, Ty Lee — but I am afraid to report that we already do not get along. There is this one girl, Kaho, who has a specific grudge against me, despite my attempts at avoiding that outcome…but I should not bore you with the details. Suffice to say that not everyone is as kind as Jia-Li and Ty Lee and Mai and you have been. It is as Jia-Li said, though: two true friends are better than ten false ones. It does not upset me (though it might if I am challenged to an Agni Kai!)

Thank you for feeding Bian. She did seem pleased when she returned to the aviary at the academy. I also gave her a treat. By the way, the falconer said she was supposed to be yours. Is that true? If it is, then I do not think that I deserve such a creature, though of course I thank you for giving her to me anyways. She is very beautiful and possesses a gentle heart, which is a solace in the more trying times.

Ever Your Highness’s humble and obedient servant Sincerely, Ursa

P.S. I am sorry to say that I still do not recall anything about my past. I shall keep you updated if that changes.

You were up before Jia-Li, nervous energy thrumming through you in anticipation for the first day of classes. Ty Lee had stayed late into the night, and then you had spent the candle Jia-Li had lit for you writing to Prince Zuko, so you hadn’t had any time to read or prepare for lessons.

“Ugh,” Jia-Li groaned when you threw open the curtains, the rising sunlight filtering into the room, a beam landing directly on her face, which she promptly covered with a pillow. “What are you doing?”

“You’re a Firebender, aren’t you? Don’t you all rise with the sun anyways?” you said.

“I don’t know who told you that, but they were full of bullshit,” Jia-Li said. “I rise after I’ve had a full night’s rest, which I have not yet.”

“Breakfast is soon,” you said, pulling on your shoes. “You’ll miss it if you don’t get ready now, and then you’ll have to go to class on an empty stomach. I’m sure that doesn’t sound appealing.”

“On second thoughts, I miss not having a roommate,” Jia-Li said, though she did toss aside her pillow and roll out of the bed, thudding to the ground and shoving her feet in a pair of fluffy slippers. Her hair stuck up every which way, and there were bags under her half-lidded eyes as she trudged past you to her vanity table. “You can go ahead and meet Ty Lee in the dining hall now, if you want. I’ll come down later.”

“Do you think she’ll be there already?” you said.

“Yeah,” Jia-Li said. “That girl is the epitome of a morning person. She’s probably been anxiously waiting for you for a while now.”

“Then I shouldn’t keep her waiting any longer,” you said. “See you in class, Jia-Li.”

“See you, Ursa,” she said.

As Jia-Li had predicted, Ty Lee was waiting outside of the door to the dining hall, where all of the girls who boarded at the academy had their meals. She was playing with her fingers nervously, but when she saw you, she bloomed with joy, dancing over to stand beside you.

“Good morning! Are you ready for our first day?” she trilled.

“Not at all,” you said. “I didn’t have any time to read yesterday. I don’t know anything. If the teacher calls on me, I’ll be lost.”

“It’ll be fine,” Ty Lee said, putting a piece of bread on her plate and spreading something on its fluffy surface. “We’re new, so we’ll probably get away with sitting in the back and doing the bare minimum.”

“Let’s hope so,” you said, copying her, trusting her to know what was and wasn’t good to eat at the school. She flounced to the end of the table, and you followed her, sitting across from her so that you two could talk.

“Ty Lee!” a girl said. “Come sit with us!”

“No, sit with us!” another said.

“We asked first!” the first girl said.

“So? She obviously likes us more, we’re way hotter!” the second argued. They began to squabble as you gave Ty Lee a bewildered look.

“What is going on?” you said.

“Besides Kaho, almost everyone at the school liked me…” she said awkwardly. “I guess you could say I was popular! Everyone’s happy I’m back.”

“Looks like it,” you said, baffled at just how many people were trying to claim the spot at Ty Lee’s side. Thankfully, none of them tried to take your space, though you got your own share of dirty glares, which you could only cock your head at in confusion.

“Guys, go away. I’m trying to hang out with my friend from the palace, Ursa,” Ty Lee said.

“What was she there, a servant?” one of the girls said. You glanced down at your clothes, which were the same uniform as everyone else, and then you swallowed. Unlike the other girls, with their expensive hair ribbons and jewelry, you didn’t have anything to your name that marked you as a daughter of nobility — because you weren’t one. It was a safe assumption for the girl to make, and it was even one you’d made about yourself in the past, so why did it hurt your feelings that she had said such a thing?

“Hey!” Ty Lee said. “She’s a friend of the prince — I mean, the princess! Yeah, that’s right, she’s Azula’s friend!”

Immediately, the girls scrambled away from you, and the one who had called you a servant paled. Dropping to her knees before Ty Lee, she bowed her head.

“I am so, so sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect to a friend of Princess Azula’s!” she said.

“Apologize to Ursa,” Ty Lee said, chipper again now that she had found some kind of justice for you.

“It’s fine, Ty Lee. I can see why she thought that, so I’m not upset,” you said. The girl took the opportunity to leap to her feet and race to the other side of the table, the others following suit at the reminder of the princess.

“Those girls are all jerks,” Ty Lee said once you were alone again. “I’m sorry she was talking about you like that.”

“It’s not something you should say sorry for,” you said. “You didn’t do it. Anyways, I was expecting it; Jia-Li told me that the girls aren’t that nice, so it’s not a surprise. The real question is why you claimed my association to be with the princess instead of the prince.”

“Oh, that’s an easy one to answer,” she said. “They all remember Azula from when she attended, so she’s a more concrete threat in their minds. Only a few of them have met Zuko, and he’s been banished for a while, so his name doesn’t carry as much weight. Besides, if you’re associated with one member of the royal family, you’re associated with all of them, so I wasn’t technically wrong.”

“Alright,” you said, forcing yourself to chew on your food, even though it felt heavy and leaden in your mouth. It wasn’t a question of taste; somewhere, in the back of your mind, you could tell that you would ordinarily like eating this. It was your nerves which were ruining the experience, which made your tongue stiff and your jaw tight. You knew, though, that you needed food in order to have energy for the day, so you made yourself eat it despite your misgivings, despite the mental labor that even the mere act of swallowing took.

The classroom was small, which made sense, considering there were only a few girls in your year. What didn’t make sense was that the two desks in the very front were left open, though you had an inkling that one specific person had something to do with it.

“Ty Lee. Ursa,” a girl said. Her hair was pin straight and dark, half of it tied up with a white-and-gold ribbon, the rest falling around her shoulders, her midnight eyes reflecting the torches hanging around the classroom. “We saved you two seats.”

“Kaho,” Ty Lee said through gritted teeth. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I know,” Kaho said. “You can say I did it out of the goodness of my own heart.”

“Like I said,” Ty Lee said. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, not wanting to get into an argument with the very girl Jia-Li had warned you about last night.

“See,” Kaho said. “At least one of you has proper manners. Though, to be honest, I would’ve expected the daughter of a nobleman to be raised better than the girl that the prince found in the trash.”

“She wasn’t found in the trash!” Ty Lee said.

“Wasn’t she?” Kaho said.

“You can let it be, Ty Lee. It’s fine,” you said. “Let’s just sit down before the Etiquette Mistress gets here.”

Your first class was on the proper etiquette to have in polite society. Considering the many subtleties of etiquette, this was something you were nervous for, as you had no idea how to behave in polite society, or what any of that meant in the first place. It seemed that the others expected as much, for there was a multitude of snickers as you sat in the very front and waited for the Etiquette Mistress to arrive.

“Wonderful, everyone is on time!” the Etiquette Mistress said as she walked in exactly at the second class had to start. She was a neatly dressed and perfectly put together woman, with not even an eyelash out of place. “Let’s begin promptly with a review from our last class. Who can tell me what the three pillars of etiquette are?” She scanned the room, but only one girl had her hand raised. “Kaho?”

“Respect, consideration, and punctuality,” Kaho said, smirking as she folded her hands in her lap. The Etiquette Mistress did not frown, but the corners of her mouth threatened to tug downwards, and before you could think about it, you were raising your own hand.

“Ursa?” the Etiquette Mistress said. “Do you have something else to add?”

“It’s a common misconception that punctuality is a pillar of etiquette. However, in truth, it is not a pillar unto itself but rather a natural development and extension of the pillars of respect and consideration,” you said, though you had no idea where the words were coming from, only that some long-dormant knowledge of yours was bubbling to the surface. “The third pillar is actually honesty, madam, though of course honesty does not imply brutality but tact, benevolence, and integrity.”

Everyone in the room was silent. You could feel Kaho’s eyes boring holes into your back, but you stared steadily ahead, waiting for the Etiquette Mistress to react.

She smiled slightly. “That is correct. I also appreciate that you addressed me with a title; it demonstrates an elegant sort of etiquette that a lady must be born with or else have studied in depth from a young age.”

“Thank you, madam,” you said. The Etiquette Mistress nodded before turning to the board so that she could continue to teach you a lesson on which utensils to use for which meal.

This, too, you excelled in. You were the only student who knew when to use each utensil, even during the trick questions that the Etiquette Mistress threw out to trip you up. With every subsequent test passed, you felt your approval in the eyes of the Etiquette Mistress rising, though it was rapidly falling amongst your classmates, especially Kaho, who must’ve once been the star of the class.

“I thought you said you didn’t have time to study!” Ty Lee hissed once the Etiquette Mistress had left and you all were given a five minute break before the History Mistress arrived.

“I didn’t,” you said.

“Huh? Then how’d you manage to answer her questions so perfectly?” she said.

“I’m not sure. I just knew it already, somehow,” you said.

“Looks like Prince Zuko has a keen eye,” Kaho said from behind you. “To find the diamond amongst the sludge.”

For some reason, even though she was calling you a diamond, it didn’t feel like much of a compliment. Ty Lee seemed to agree, her kind, open face closing into a dark scowl.

“Kaho, you should just shut up,” she said.

“Is that a challenge?” Kaho said.

“It could be, but don’t forget that I’m one of Azula’s most trusted comrades. Is that a fight you think you could win?” Ty Lee said. Kaho seemed furious, but she had no argument, not when Ty Lee was objectively correct.

“The History Mistress will be here soon,” Jia-Li interjected, trying to break the tension. “Let’s forget about all of this and move on.”

“Sozin’s beard, Jia-Li, nobody cares about history,” Kaho said, rolling her eyes. “Just sit in the back and keep quiet like usual.”

Jia-Li stuck her tongue out at Kaho when the other turned away, but you noticed she did not stand up for herself. Ty Lee was the only one who was brave enough to say anything, and even then, you wondered how much of it was false bravado and how much of it was genuine self-confidence.

“Good morning, class,” the History Mistress said.

“Good morning, History Mistress,” you all chorused in unison.

“Today, we will be learning about an event that occurred relatively recently, but will definitely be written down in the history books in the years to come: Prince Zuko’s defeat of Ba Sing Se,” she said.

Ba Sing Se — it was where the prince had found you. You knew that the city had, at some point, fallen to the Fire Nation, but you didn’t know what had happened or how it had happened. This was definitely a topic of some personal interest to you, and you could not help leaning forward in your seat a bit.

“I thought we might go over this, since we now have a personal connection to it in the class,” the History Mistress said. “Namely, Ursa, who was found by Prince Zuko during the invasion.”

The entire class turned to look at you as the History Mistress began to draw a diagram on the board. The weight of their gazes was a suffocating burden, but you did not afford them the privilege of seeing you crumple, for you knew that you had to, in some way, remain strong, lest they pounce upon your perceived weakness.

“During his hunt for the Avatar, Prince Zuko and his uncle, the former General Iroh, found themselves separated from their ship and amongst Earth Kingdom refugees fleeing to the capital city of Ba Sing Se.

“It seemed to be a damning sentence; after all, what place does Fire Nation royalty have in such a city? But our prince is wise and loyal. He and his uncle opened a tea shop in order to bide their time, blending in with the city and learning its secrets.

“Taking a risk, he wrote to his father, telling him he had found a way into Ba Sing Se. The Fire Lord Ozai, who has always had the utmost of faith in his son to do what must be done, sent him the Soldiers of Agni in aid, promising a larger army if the Soldiers of Agni were not enough.

“For those of you who do not recall our lesson from the beginning of the term about the military structures that Fire Lord Azulon put into place, the Soldiers of Agni are the most elite Firebenders in the nation, excepting, of course, the royal family.

“So these proud men, who were the epitome of Fire itself, donned the muddy browns and greens of the Earth Kingdom on the command of their lord and snuck into Ba Sing Se in the same way that Prince Zuko and former General Iroh had. There, they met the prince, who formed their plan of attack.

“On the agreed-upon date, the Soldiers of Agni and Prince Zuko stormed the palace, beginning by executing all of the guards who tried to fight back. The rest of the guards, knowing they were outnumbered, quickly defected, and when the former General Iroh tried to stop them, they took him prisoner for the royal family, allowing the Soldiers of Agni and Prince Zuko to continue their invasion.

“Their main goal was to get rid of everyone who lived in that palace, in which they were successful. Not even the Earth King’s pet bear was spared. He and the rest of the palace’s inhabitants were destroyed, along with an entire wing of the Earth Palace, which the Soldiers of Agni brought crumbling to the ground with their fire and their might.

“Sadly, all of the Soldiers of Agni that fought to take the Earth Palace lost their lives that day. Most of the palace staff were Earthbenders, and they fought back, outnumbering the Soldiers of Agni ten to one. The Soldiers of Agni possessed superior skills, but those were barely enough against such a large quantity of enemies.

“We cannot forget the sacrifices they made. It is through the bravery, spirit, and courage of the Soldiers of Agni that the Fire Nation finally took Ba Sing Se for good. Even in a confrontation where they were at such an enormous disadvantage, the Soldiers of Agni kept fighting for their country, their home, and for the Fire Lord, eventually emerging victorious, though they were unable to enjoy the fruits of their victory. We must always follow this example of duty and selflessness, ever asking ourselves what we, too, can give up for the welfare of the Fire Nation.”

After her long-winded explanation, the History Mistress exhaled, wiping away a tear from the corner of her left eye and then holding her hands to her heart. You all had a quiet moment, presumably in honor of the Soldiers of Agni, and then, tentatively, Jia-Li raised her hand.

“History Mistress, what does all of that have to do with Ursa?” she said.

“That’s something you should ask her, not me,” the History Mistress said, motioning towards you. “Go on, Ursa. Tell us what part you played in this entire tale.”

You gulped. “To be frank, I don’t remember myself what my role was, but I’ve been filled in by Mai and Prince Zuko. Apparently, I was a Fire Nation soldier on the front lines, but at some point, I was taken prisoner by the Earth Kingdom. They were torturing me in Ba Sing Se for Fire Nation secrets. After invading the city, Prince Zuko found me, and he brought me to the palace to be healed. It was there that I woke up without any memories.”

“You were a soldier?” Kaho said, without even raising her hand. She scoffed. “You look entirely too soft to ever have been fighting on the front lines.”

“Kaho, she was in jail for who knows how long,” Jia-Li said softly. “Of course she’s not in fighting shape anymore. Especially if they were torturing her…poor Ursa. You’re so brave for not giving in.”

“That’s right,” the History Mistress said. “We must all endeavor to be like Ursa, as well, who after all of her ordeals is still set upon nothing but improving herself for her country. She truly is the example of what a Fire Nation citizen should be like. Now, let us thank her for sharing her story.”

“Thank you, Ursa,” everyone said. You sat on your hands and hated every second of it. You didn’t like the attention being called to you once again. You just wanted to fade into the background and be forgotten, but more and more, it seemed like that was impossible.

“The topic of prisoners is a great segue into what we’re going to be talking about in today’s lesson. Who can name one historical Fire Nation figure that was also kept in captivity by the Earth Kingdom?” the History Mistress said.

To no one’s surprise, it was Kaho volunteering once more, but this time, she was unchallenged, as you focused all of your energy on writing notes about the material. After all, you didn’t know any of this, and you figured it was likely important that you pick up such things, considering the entirely blank slate that was your mind at present.

The academy’s aviary was only a short walk from the dormitories, and you found yourself frequenting the path already, both because of your correspondence with Prince Zuko and because Bian was one of the few beings that you could say without question was your friend.

“I don’t understand why they already have decided that I am so worthless,” you sniffed, finally allowing yourself to cry in the solitude of the aviary.

Bian tilted her head at you, nudging you with her cold beak. You wiped away your tears before scratching her on her feathery chest.

“I don’t even know half of their names,” you said. “Yet they are convinced that I am someone less than them. Someone worthless. They think of me as waste, Bian — a rubbish girl who does not deserve to be their peer.”

Of course, your messenger hawk was not intimately acquainted with the subtleties of such politics and divisions, but for the moment, it seemed as if she understood, as she let out a low, rumbling coo. It was the most comfort you could dream of, and you bit your lip to prevent a sob from falling past your lips.

“Maybe it’s true,” you said. “You can decorate trash all you want. At the end of the day, you can’t change what it is. Maybe I don’t belong here. I don’t know what Prince Zuko was thinking, sending me to study with these girls.”

Bian nipped your sleeve, almost like a reprimand. You gave her a warning look, reminding her to keep her beak to herself, but all you earned in response was indifference — your reward for thinking a bird could read your expressions and would care about them, even if she could.

“And for some reason, Kaho has a personal vendetta against me,” you said. “I can’t think of anything I’ve done to deserve it. Is it because I corrected her during our etiquette class? But she hated me even before that.”

Jia-Li had mentioned something about Kaho envying you for your closeness with the royal family, but it wasn’t as if you had chosen that. You hadn’t chosen to be saved by Prince Zuko. You hadn’t chosen to lose your memories. You hadn’t chosen to live like this. None of it was in your control, so why did she blame you for it all?

“I just wish I knew who I was,” you said. “Things would be easier if I knew there was someone who loved me. Someone who was waiting for me to come back. If I was a Fire Nation soldier, then my family — they might be nearby, right? I should…I should be trying to find them, not studying at this school!”

You could feel the judgment rolling off of Bian in waves, which was ridiculous, because she was after all just a messenger hawk and was incapable of judging anyone. Still, if she were a person, you fancied she would be judging you at the moment, and your shoulders slumped as you realized how ridiculous you sounded.

“I’m in a position that many greatly desire, and here I am, complaining. I am in an elite institution, my tutelage sponsored by a prince who is only all-too-eager to help me with whatever I need. It is silly that I am so upset, it’s just that — it’s just that I feel like some part of me is missing. Like I lost who I am when I lost my memories, and not just in the sense of my identity. It was something physical. There is something more to me that is out of my grasp, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot reach it,” you said, extending your hand and closing your fist around empty air.

As per usual, there was nothing. It was a futile exercise. No matter how many times you did it, the result would be the same. You would not be able to find that part of you again, not for some time.

“Who am I, really?” you said to Bian. “That’s what I want to know. Who was Ursa? Who were my parents? Did I have siblings? What about friends? What did I do for fun? I don’t know any of it. I feel like I will only be happy again if I can find out. Even if it’s terrible. Even if it means reliving the torture that the Earth Kingdom put me through. I just want to remember.”

But try as you might, there was still nothing. You still had no idea who you were. Although you had had a full day of instruction at the academy, you were in no better of a position than you had been on the day you started.

Ursa,

You really can just call me Zuko. You don’t have to refer to me as the prince, unless you are completely more comfortable with that. Though it is true that I am your benefactor, I am not someone you should defer to. If you can bring yourself to do it, then I should like if you actually think of me as your friend. I would like to consider you mine, and so I will speak to you as if you are until you tell me otherwise.

I’d expect that none of the girls at the academy can claim that the prince of the Fire Nation is offering them friendship, and will be on their side even if they should reject that offer! Anyways, I have no doubt that you will be able to solve any issues that come your way, but sometimes, it is nice to have support. I want to be that for you. Even if it is not me, I hope there is someone at the academy who you can turn to for that.

It is a relief to hear that your roommate is someone likable. I asked Mai about Jia-Li; though she had nothing favorable to say, there was also nothing unfavorable, which is almost more of a compliment, coming from her. It’s good to know that you do not have to sleep beside someone you detest.

And speaking of, I am angered to hear that they have been treating you that way. Please remember that you are worth ten of them in my eyes. You only need to say the word, and I will have them spoken to harshly. Especially that Kaho, who has always been the horrid type (Mai was a little more explicit in her description, but I will spare you the specifics. Just imagine the most obscene expletives you can think of, and then imagine something even worse — that is probably in the range of what she was saying about her). Do not let her get you down; she is a spoiled, sheltered girl whose father is an Admiral and allows her to get away with doing whatever she wants because of his high status in the military. If you stand up to her, then I am sure she will back down. People like that usually do.

Yes, Bian was supposed to be my hawk, but I already have one and have no need for another, so she would’ve just sat in the aviary once I received her. It is for her own good that I gave her to you. If you do not like such an extravagant creature being yours alone, then you may imagine that you are borrowing her from me for the time being (though I will not accept her return — I think that she is attached to you now).

She is an exemplary bird, is she not? The falconer was very proud of her when she hatched. Although, I don’t know if anyone else would agree that she possesses a gentle heart; it’s not something typically said about messenger hawks, which are frequently ill-tempered. It is further proof that she is fond of you and was always meant to be yours, no matter whose name she was hatched in.

My own life has been dreadfully boring as of late. Meeting after meeting after meeting…it is definitely busy, being the prince of the Fire Nation. It’s like everyone wants to talk to me suddenly! But I’m not complaining. I much prefer being home to living on a ship and constantly wondering when I can go back, even if I had considerably more free time back then. 

I cannot think of anything else to write to you about, but I do not wish to stop quite yet, because once I am done with this letter, I will have to attend to some paperwork that I have been putting off. 

It has been sunny recently. The cooks made my favorite meal yesterday. Mai has been moping a lot more than usual (I think she misses Ty Lee). I gave bread to the turtleducks in the pond, and it seemed to cheer their spirits. My father allows me to sit at his right side for meetings nowadays, though as always, Azula is at his left. 

That’s about it. I guess that, as the heir to the throne, I should not keep procrastinating. It’s not very princely of me. 

Yours, Zuko

P.S. Once again, I am sorry to hear that. 

P.P.S. Please keep writing to me frequently, and with as many boring details as you care to include. I like hearing from you will take any excuse to not fill out these ridiculously tedious forms.

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

𝐉𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

All my fics for Jude ♥︎ some mature content (if over the age of 18 and you cannot see them go to settings, content you see and turn off mature block ♥︎ tag on Jude scenarios here

🩷 = mature

Last updated July 26th

A win anyways ♥︎ hi can u write jude x reader comforting him after losing the match?

A blurb with no name ♥︎ Can you do a little blurb with a jealous Jude? Maybe you’re a few years older than him and thinks you’d get along better with Trent?

Anything for you ♥︎ Request: one where jude takes care of you when you feel off/bad and the feeling comes out of Nowhere. Like you start to reminisce abt your childhood and it ruins your mood

The L word ♥︎ hiii could you please write a jude imagine where the reader and jude have a lazy day at home and it’s cute and fluffy and he confesses he loves reader for the first time? thank you 😊

Stay ♥︎ hi my love, would you mind doing an angsty jude bellingham smut where they have agreed to break up as he needs to focus on his career but they decide to spend one more night together and have very intimate but also sad sex before they have to leave eachother (and if you don’t mind have them kinda talk it out and decide not to split in the end if you want) thank you 🫶🏻 🩷

Biggest supporter ♥︎ can u write a Jude Bellingham fluff abt just going to his practices and games and being his biggest supporter

Kissing booth ♥︎ Based on a TikTok I saw. Where you tell Jude you love him while taking photos in a photo booth.

Makeup or breakup ♥︎ Jude says some disgusting things during an argument which results in you leaving for some space. Maybe you'll makeup... 🩷

The way he loves you ♥︎ Headcanon on the way Jude shows you he loves you

What about us ♥︎ Jude lied to you and said he was going to stay with you instead of transferring. You felt betrayed

Lust and envy ♥︎ Summary: IM BEGGING jude smut/angst where him and reader are broken up but he finds an old (rough?) sextape and he touches himself to it (we want details tho intense solo sessions are HOT😩) then yeah he regrets leaving her and wants her backkk, and then maybe shes with another guy and he gets all jealous and possessive (sorry to much details) I want toxic jude soooo bad 🤭 🩷

Soulmates ♥︎ sitting in the car in the rain, you and Jude havs a heart to heart

Initials ♥︎ I just know bf Jude would buy you a necklace or a bracelet with his initial on it 😍

The other woman ♥︎ Jude can’t get enough of you, but he is with another woman that's not you 🩷

My life ♥︎ Jude angst where he tries to break up with the reader because he thinks that his life is too much for her but she’s not having it. Just like ‘yea but no’

Mykonos ♥︎ You and Jude enjoy your time on the beach together but that was cut short when you both decided the hotel room was a better option 🩷

Birthday surprise ♥︎ you surprise Jude on his birthday after being away from him for a while. You give me him a little something as well 🩷

There's this girl ♥︎ Jude and the reader talking late at night because they barely got to talk during the day. They talk about the random things, laughing at each other shitty jokes And stuff. Neither wants to hang up because they love to hear each other’s voice )

Love languages ♥︎ all five Love language with Jude 🩷

Hidden feelings ♥︎ Can we got some enemies to lovers with Jude maybe him and the reader “hate” each other but are in the same friend group and one day reader gets hurt and he rushes to come and help her 😩😩 anything will don’t tbh

Soul intertwine ♥︎ English is not my first language so sorry for the mistakes… I was thinking about something fuffly + smut. Like the reader being innocent and a shy person. She and jude got into their relationship recently and they have had no sex yet bc jude don’t wants to pressure her to do anything (but ofc he wants have sex w her), especially when he starts to realize how innocent she is… he thinks she’s too cute and at the same time he wants to ruin her, he feel the need to protect her. But when y/n is in a convo w her girlies friends and one of them asks about her sex life w jude and she don’t know what to say, she would be curious about it but would be too shy to talk w jude about it he would find it weird that she was quiet and looking bothered by something and would talk w her. After insists a lot, she finally says about all the stuffs that she heard about her friends and she would be “idk how react” and jude gets fully turned on by her innocent but makes he’s best to not show ithe tries to find a way to explain for her without destroy her innocent but she wants to know about everything and she wants him to do everything w her bc she wants to be his. 🩷

๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑

Main Masterlist

© writing by Iguessweallcrazyithinktho do not steal or repost any of my content anywhere without my consent

[mollywog]

What If?

A follow up to Complicated

They’re in the meadow. Katniss lies with her head in his lap as he braids small sections of her loose hair. Tomorrow is his one late morning a week and he’s enjoying staying up enough to see the sunset.

The reaping hangs heavy as always, but it’s their final one. School is coming to an end and the loan for the bakery is secured. It’s perfect… or at least it should be. But something is off; Katniss has been distracted lately and he’s afraid to ask

“What if one of us is reaped?” She says, opening her eyes to look up at him.

He groans, “let’s not do this, Please? I think we’ve been through every possible scenario. I don’t want to spend our night as hypothetical tributes.”

What-if is a game they play sometimes. It started back when he’d been too nervous to ask her out. Instead of asking her directly, he’d said ‘what if I asked you out?’ He’d felt like a coward, but she’d found it endearing. Now they use it to tease and allay fears they're too scared to say otherwise.

The reaping what-ifs are common enough. Regardless, their what-ifs always end with the two of them together, whether it’s through mutual sacrifice or a rebellion that ends the games forever.

“Okay,” she nods and closes her eyes.

But he can feel the tension radiating from her. He watches her swallow. Panic begins to rise, is she looking for a way out? To what-if her way out of the relationship the same way he’d what-ifed into it? Things were finally falling into place. He’d close on the bakery the day after the reaping and had planned to ask her to marry him before the ink dried; As soon as there was no way his mother could withhold her signature. He’d all but told her that, but maybe she was having second thoughts? The bakery without Katniss to share it would be a bitter victory.

She takes a deep breath and he holds his own, “What if I’m pregnant?”

A moment passes as he processes. “Katniss?”

“Just play the game Peeta.”

He licks his lips, his heart in his throat as he tries to temper his joy… and terror. He wants to scoop her into his arms; hold her and kiss her then sprint to the justice building to make it official, but he needs to be sure they’re on the same page, “What if it’s not what you wanted?” he asks.

She opens her eyes to scowl at him, “Are you trying to say you don’t want this?”

“Not at all. You were the one who wanted to play.”

“Fine,” She snaps. “But you answer first: What if it’s not what you wanted?”

“That’s not a fair question. The only reason I wouldn’t want a child of ours is if you didn’t,” he tries not to imagine what a similar conversation between his parents looked like all those years ago. “Katniss, I love you. I want to spend every moment of the rest of my life with you. A child won’t change that, even if it came earlier than we’d planned or never at all. But I still need to know so I can help: what if it’s not what you wanted?”

She sits up to look him in the eye. “I could never not want this either,” she says before launching herself into his arms.

They’re both trembling as he envelops her in his embrace and he releases a shaky laugh, the product of his nerves. “What if I asked you to marry me right now?” he says into her hair when he’s found his voice again.

“What if I said I still want to keep us - the three of us - quiet until after the papers go through?

He sighs, “Then what if I waited to ask until it doesn’t have to be a secret?”

She nods, “I don’t want you to be a secret either, you know? I just don’t want you to lose your livelihood because of me.”

He’d do it in an instant and she knows it. They’ve what-ifed themselves a life in the Seam as well as on the run past the fence; anywhere, anyway as long as they're together.

She lays back down on the grass, taking up her previous spot. She picks up his hand to hold over her still flat midsection and closes her eyes. He caresses her stomach as he imagines doing the same in their home come July. “What if it’s a girl?” he muses.

She smiles, “What if she has your eyes?”

“And your voice?”

“And your smile?” she says, peeking an eye open to watch as his smile brightens.

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 11 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, ANGST, PENT-UP FEELINGS, SLOW BURN

words: 7.8k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 11 ► i can hear your heartbeat i’ve tried so hard to forget, i’m being buried under the memory of all of my regrets

On the flight to Amsterdam in the morning, you ended up sitting next to Luna. That wasn’t particularly unusual as your entire team—apart from the roadies who drove the bus with the equipment over from Oslo, bless them—tended to change seats as they pleased.

Normally, though, Luna sat next to her boyfriend. So, the fact that she was sitting next to you this time was unusual.

“Funny thing,” she said to you once the plane was in the air and everyone around you began to slowly move around. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

You looked at her. “How is that funny?”

“It’s funny because when I woke up to get a bottle of water from the mini fridge,” she said, “the curtains on your bunk were drawn.”

You swallowed, suspecting what she was getting at, but refusing to give in. “That doesn’t sound very funny, either.”

“No, I agree,” she said, grinning as she got to the best part, “but as I went back, I noticed that Jungkook wasn’t in his bunk.”

You looked down at your tablet, the e-book you had opened already forgotten as the lines on the screen blurred together. “Huh.”

“Yeah,” Luna said. The more you evaded her, the happier she seemed. She had come to her own conclusions that, honestly, weren’t very far from the truth, but you couldn’t admit that, not even to her. “Any clue what’s that about?”

“None,” you lied with a nonchalant expression. “But I’m sure the explanation would be funny.”

She continued to grin at you. “I’m sure it would be. I’d love to hear it.”

You swallowed and pretended to be busy reading, even though the words on the screen might as well have been gibberish, given how little sense they made.

“I’m sure you would,” you mumbled.

Luna groaned. She wanted to know, and it was hard not to push when you were right there, and the truth of what had happened was on the tip of your tongue.

“Come on!” she pleaded, nudging her shoulder against yours. “Don’t make me wake Maggie.”

You knew Maggie was settled in the seat behind you, sleep mask, earpods and neck pillow in tow. She wasn’t the interrogator out of the two of them, but if she and Luna teamed up, they would either get you to admit everything, or they’d come to their own—probably exaggerated—version of what happened which you’d have to deny, thus confirming their initial suspicions anyway.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked, stalling.

“Just confirm what I already suspect,” Luna said, knowing better than to ask for the whole story.

You looked away instead of answering, but there was a warmth in your eyes that wasn’t there before; Luna’s questions had evidently brought back the memories of last night.

“Alright!” your friend cheered at the sight of it, relentless. “That’s confirmation enough.”

You shook your head, trying to suppress the smile that was tugging at your lips, but Luna still saw the corners of your mouth lift.

“How about you tell me why you weren’t sleeping tonight instead,” you said—only partially because you wanted to change the subject. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. That just happens sometimes, maybe too much adrenaline.” She shrugged, letting you drift off topic for the moment. “Should’ve jumped less at the concert last night. But hey, that was the reason I got to witness that very funny thing last night.” She snickered then, and, in response to your glare, said, “but I’m really fine.”

You knew the band would have three days off in Amsterdam before the next show, so Luna could reasonably get enough sleep in that time, but you still asked, “you sure?”

“Yes,” she repeated, then ran her fingers over her eyes, “and no third degree, please. I’m sitting with you because my boyfriend,” she emphasised the word as she sat up straight to look over the several rows of seats behind her where Taehyung sat, “as much as I love him, he won’t stop asking me if I’m fine every two seconds.”

“And here I thought you were sitting with me because you loved me,” you teased.

“I do love you,” she said. “But I also feel bad for him. I told him to sit with Yoongi, because Yoongi always naps on flights, and I knew that was the only way Tae would get any sleep.”

“Wait, so he didn’t sleep tonight, either?” you asked.

“He did at first,” Luna said, “but then he saw that I was awake, and he ended up staying awake, too.”

You smiled despite yourself. “You guys sicken me.”

Suddenly, someone grabbed the back of your seat—you felt fingers brush gently past your tied-back hair—and you heard Maggie moan behind you.

“You guys,” she muttered, sliding the mask from her eyes and leaning into the gap between your seat and Luna’s, “sicken me, too.”

“I thought you were asleep,” Luna said.

“How can I sleep? My earpods died a minute ago,” Maggie explained her own logic before directing her attention to you. “So, anyway. What happened between you and Jungkook?”

The continued ambush made you stutter, “wh-why do you keep asking that? Nothing happ—”

“Luna,” Maggie turned to your friend. “What happened? You and Taehyung were awake. I trust your words.”

You raised your eyebrows while Luna chuckled.

“Don’t worry,” she said to you. “I was the one who drew these conclusions. Taehyung didn’t see anything, he only heard Jungkook climb into his bunk.”

At first, you hadn’t even realised that Taehyung staying awake when Luna couldn’t sleep meant that he was not only a great boyfriend to her, but also that half the bus was awake when Jungkook snuck into your bunk.

“Jolly,” you said dryly as your eyes immediately left your friend’s face.

She smiled automatically, and, urged by your flustered state, turned to Maggie to tell her the facts: her lack of sleep and the search for a water bottle that led to the discovery of your drawn curtains and Jungkook’s empty bunk.

“And if you must know,” Luna said to you then, “my original plan was to make sure you were alone on the plane, so someone could take the seat next to you. But I ruined it by exiling my boyfriend to the back and finding you myself.”

“Clever plan,” you commented. “Thanks for sabotaging it.”

She snickered, not losing her optimism despite your sarcasm.

“More flights in the future,” Maggie remarked, prompting Luna to nod in eager agreement. “Maybe it’ll work out then.”

“Mmhmm. Fingers crossed,” you deadpanned.

“So, um, not to ruin the happy conversation,” Maggie said before she ruined the happy conversation, “but have you made a decision about Reconnaissance?”

“Oh.” You slumped in your chair. “No. My decision is to think about it as little as possible, so I can call Nick next month and tell him I’m not doing it. Because I’m afraid that if I do start thinking about it, I’ll end up… you know, wavering.”

Maggie regarded you from the gap between the seats. “And that’s bad?”

“That’s bad,” you confirmed. “I know I want to stay here.”

“Have you told the guys?” Luna asked.

“No. I haven’t had the chance yet.” You looked down, twisting the decorative silver-coloured ring on your index finger. “I kind of want this to come up naturally. I mean, as naturally as possible. So that it doesn’t seem like such a big deal.”

Luna nodded sympathetically, while Maggie’s grin widened behind you.

“Yeah,” she said. “And, obviously, you and Jungkook are busy with other things for this to come up naturally.”

You saw Luna start to laugh as your eyes widened and your lips formed the first excuse that came to mind. “Okay, that’s not even true, we were just—”

The two girls were snickering too hard to hear you, but it was Maggie’s considerate tap on your shoulder—as if to tell you to stop talking because they knew better—that made you close your mouth and roll your eyes at the two of them.

“So.” Luna shifted in her seat, looking for a more comfortable position. Even though she had the window seat, she didn’t look out once, focusing on you instead. “Now that we’re back on the subject—”

“There was no subj—”

“—you and Jungkook,” she persisted, undeterred by your attempt to return your attention to the tablet on your lap. “What does this mean?”

You sighed, realising you needed to say something. Luna and Maggie weren’t questioning you to be mean, they just wanted to know. And it was fair, considering you shared almost everything with each other, especially now that Luna joined Rated Riot for some of their tour dates.

And yet this particular topic was difficult. Just the mention of Jungkook’s name blocked something in your throat, as if there were only certain things you could say about him, and what had happened on the bus last night was not one of them.

“Nothing,” you said sincerely, because those five minutes with him were truly not supposed to hold any significance. “It wasn’t—it’s nothing.”

“Okay,” Luna said, lowering her eyebrows and her voice. “And if we’re serious, then what does it mean?”

You closed your eyes. “It—”

“Hey.” Unexpectedly, Jungkook’s voice rang from the aisle next to you. “Am I interrupting?”

This forced your eyes to shoot open in surprise.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Maggie muttered with a half-smirk as she pulled back, retreating deeper into her seat. Her eyes were still shining from this seemingly top-secret information that she had to squeeze out of you.

“Huh?” Jungkook looked at the girl behind you. Then, beaming as he realised what she was getting at, he asked, “oh, were you talking about me?”

“Not at all,” you said, locking your tablet and putting it in the back pocket of the seat in front of you. Jungkook wasn’t sure which of his questions you were answering. You asked, “what’s up?”

“It’s Hoseok,” he said. “He’s had a headache since before we boarded. He says he’s fine, but the veins on his temples are very prominent, so I think he could use some medicine.”

You grew visibly alarmed as he spoke, your mind racing through scenarios of what to do. There weren’t a lot of options, considering you were thousands of feet in the air right now.

“He hasn’t taken any?” you asked slowly.

“No,” Jungkook replied. He reminded you, “he says he’s fine.”

You nodded – this was Hoseok in a nutshell. Unless he collapsed abruptly, he was in perfect health.

“Of course,” you said. “Give me a moment, I have Advil in my bag.”

Jungkook patiently waited while you stood up from your aisle seat and grabbed your backpack from the overhead compartment. He was completely unaware of the big grins on Luna and Maggie’s faces as the girls watched him watch you.

They didn’t know why they bothered asking you anything. You were both painfully obvious.

“Here,” you said, handing him the package of medicine. “Maybe I should go over there—”

“I got it. Thanks,” he said with a good-natured smile. After a beat of silence, during which the two of you just watched each other and Luna had to bite her lip to stay quiet, Jungkook added, “get some rest. We have big plans in Amsterdam.”

You raised your eyebrows. “We? As in, you and me?”

You could see Luna through your peripherals, pretending to scratch something near her eye to hide her ridiculous beaming.

“Yes. I made a promise, remember?” Jungkook said.

You didn’t, not right away. Then the taxi ride in Paris returned to your memory.

“Oh, the bikes?” you asked, feeling almost ridiculous now. You had mentioned Amsterdam as a dream destination back then, but you didn’t think he’d consider it important enough to remember. “We don’t have to—”

“We’ll do it,” he cut you off. “I’ll come pick you up from your room when we get to the hotel.”

He made sure to leave you no option to disagree, so, you swallowed and nodded your head. “Okay. Sure.”

He gave Luna a quick smile, nodded at Maggie, then winked at you, and walked past, intentionally bringing his hand over your waist as you stood in the aisle.

You sat down, your skin on fire, but you naively hoped it did not show on your face. Really, it didn’t have to. Luna was, on a certain level, a psychic. Or, at least, hyper-aware of her surroundings. Maggie, on the other hand, just reacted to social cues, albeit not always quickly unless they were obvious. And, this time, they were obvious.

“Romantic,” Luna commented.

“Why bikes?” was Maggie’s addition to the conversation. “I say rent out a carriage. With white horses.”

Luna jumped in, “and white doves!”

“Alright, shut up,” you shot back, shaking your head to fight off another smile as the two girls nodded at each other conspiratorially.

This was ridiculous. But as Luna and Maggie chuckled next to you, you found yourself relaxing as well. They hadn’t scolded you for being unreasonable or evading a decision about Reconnaissance, or behaving stupidly altogether—even though you thought you deserved that. Instead, the girls just seemed excited for you.

Because of their good mood, you couldn’t bring yourself to worry about the meaningfulness of going bike riding after all that had happened on the bus last night.

And, in all truth, you felt excited as well.

As Jungkook unzipped his suitcase in the hotel room he shared with Yoongi—who had already finished unpacking his equipment and had successfully occupied the only desk in the room—he realised two things.

The first was that he hadn’t packed enough black shirts and would have to wear white today, like a—he didn’t even know what. He always wore black.

And the second was that he felt a newfound motivation. Last night, as he returned to his bunk, stumbling over his own feet and thoughts of you, he had felt, simply, deflated. But today was different. He decided that if he were to take anything from last night, it would be this: you didn’t push him away.

And now he couldn’t give up on you.

So, groaning, he changed into a white shirt and glanced at the mirror by the door before leaving. He saw no difference in his appearance as he brought a hand through his hair, letting it fall in shaggy curls over his face. But then as he reached for the bottle of cologne in his toiletry bag, he saw that his hands were shaking. He was nervous.

He could remember an almost identical moment seven years ago when he took you out on your first date, not knowing back then that it would lead to a three-year relationship with a very bitter end.

To be clear, it was the bitter end that he hadn’t foreseen. Because even seven years ago, as he frantically double-checked your dinner reservations with a carefulness that was very unlike him, he knew he wouldn’t go on another first date after that night.

It was funny how he managed to be wrong and right at the same time.

This felt like a first date again. But it was still with you.

Seven years ago, you two had ended up missing your dinner reservations after all, because you’d gone to see a movie first—some romantic drama with a tragic end that you both pretended not to have cried at—and by the time it was over, it had started to rain.

You had tried to run, but you never made it past the park across from the restaurant. You had ended up in a gazebo in a clearing surrounded by willow trees and spent that night listening to the rain and falling in love.

“You okay over there?” Yoongi called out, bringing Jungkook back down from his memories.

“Hmm?” he turned to look at the older member. “Yeah. Why?”

“Been staring at your reflection for the past five minutes,” Yoongi said, taking off his headphones and resting them around his neck. “Is this an existential crisis or something I shouldn’t even bother asking about?”

Jungkook smiled softly. “Probably a little bit of both.”

“Alright.” Yoongi felt himself smile in response. “Stay safe.”

The younger boy nodded, took a deep breath, and glanced at his reflection one last time. Unconsciously, he brought his lip ring between his teeth and held it there for a second, before finally exiting the room.

He walked two doors down and knocked on yours. You opened it almost right away, but his heart still managed to do twelve and a half somersaults while he waited.

And then, as soon as you smiled and opened the door wider, inviting him inside, he could tell he was so fucked that he wasn’t sure if he could even fully grasp the extent of it.

You were wearing a loose pale blue shirt with a dark blue sports bra peeking through, paired with black biker shorts. The outfit seemed fitting for the occasion, but it made him lean against the door frame to avoid losing his balance. His mind was overflowing with thoughts and memories of you, to the point where he was sure they would start leaking if he opened his mouth.

Thankfully, you spoke up first as you went over to grab your backpack—smaller than the one you carried your belongings in during flights—from your bed. He found himself wondering how many bags you’d brought to Europe in a desperate attempt to distract himself from his pestilent memories.

“How’s Hoseok?” you asked.

Somewhere deep in his mind, Jungkook recalled walking the older member to his room when they got to the hotel, because as soon as Hoseok’s headache subsided, he really struggled to stay awake. But now, as he watched you move around the room—literally not doing anything other than gathering your phone and the hotel keycard—Jungkook found himself unable to form a single coherent sentence.

You paused and looked at him questionably.

He figured he’d better speak up instead of standing here like a complete idiot.

“He, uh—he’s—you know, he’s, uh, taking a nap,” he managed to say, mentally kicking himself. He sounded more composed when he wasn’t speaking. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest to get it together. “He said he’s fine. I think he meant it this time. Some colour returned to his face.”

“That’s good,” you said with a thoughtful nod. “He’s probably tired now. I’ll text him to let me know when he’s awake.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook agreed, listening to you but only half-hearing everything as you walked around your room, looking for something.

You weren’t sharing this room with anyone, but not by choice. Your room happened to be used to store everything that was too dangerous to keep on the bus for several nights during the stop in Amsterdam. 75% of the space here was filled with boxes of instruments and stage clothes.

Now you stood in the very centre of the room and somehow managed to look so effortlessly captivating that Jungkook wouldn’t have noticed if a robber jumped in and carried all the furniture out in comic slow-motion. He brought his hands over his face while you weren’t looking, but it did little to slow his heartbeat down.

“So, anyway,” he said with a strained voice, “are you ready?”

You bit your lip—why, why, why, had he not died enough times since he came here?—as you hesitated. “Yeah, but, as I’ve said before—”

“Then let’s go, please,” he cut you off shakily before you could assure him that he didn’t have to do this.

He thought he did. Although not to win the bet.

He had to do this because he knew you wanted this, and he’d rather throw himself into one of the canals than miss the chance to make at least one of your dreams come true.

He also had to get out of your hotel room, because being in control of himself was starting to seem like a theoretical idea more than an actual mechanism that he could use.

While you locked your room behind you, Jungkook turned to see Sid and Jude exit the elevator at the end of the hallway. Sid noticed him and stopped, punching Jude on the chest to get his attention. Already in the process of swinging back at him, Jude lifted his eyes and caught sight of Jungkook, too. Even from across the hall, Jungkook could see the impressed smiles on their faces when they noticed you next to him.

He looked away immediately, but still felt a sobering sensation in his chest. Once again, he repeated to himself that he wasn’t doing this for the bet.

However, he couldn’t help but doubt if that made any difference. What he was doing now still counted towards winning the bet.

But he knew he didn’t have the strength to avoid you or to justify the bet to himself in any other way. He’d given in last night. And he was barely holding himself together right now.

This was it. He’d made a choice.

It was a choice he should have made four years ago, instead of watching you walk away. Instead of thinking he could drown out the bitterness of you leaving with drinks that Sid, Jude, and Minjun served him.

It was you. It should have always been you.

Fortunately, his friends had already gone to their hotel room when you looked up, so you didn’t have to see them.

And, when the two of you found yourselves alone in the elevator, Sid and Jude were the last thing on Jungkook’s mind.

He felt you glance at him, but avoided meeting your eyes. He kept biting his lip, acutely aware of how long the ride down from the tenth floor should take and all the things that you could do during it.

“White looks good on you,” you commented, looking away from him.

Reflexively, he looked down at his shirt. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” you said. Then, glancing at him again, you added, “somehow brings out your eyes.”

This made his smile ridiculously big, the reaction amplified by the casual tone of your voice. You sounded like you’d just pointed out to someone that their shoes were untied – a helpful observation, nothing more.

“Ah,” he said, unable to resist. “Brings out my eyes, does it?”

You shot him a glare from the corner of your eye.

“I take it back,” you said. “White looks awful on you, never wear it again.”

He laughed, but did not lose his footing as he teased, “well, if it bothers you that much, I can take it off.”

You started to smile—an automatic reaction when you heard him laugh—but then widened your eyes instead.

“Please don’t do that in such a public place,” you said.

The alarm in your voice amused him endlessly. In your defence, you knew him well enough to know that he would actually do it if you challenged him.

“Oh?” he inquired, leaning closer with a playful grin. “Where would you like me to undress for you, then?”

You glanced at him and then very ceremoniously looked away. “That’s n-not what I meant.”

He laughed again and you were relieved when the elevator doors opened in the lobby a moment later, because you were certain that the warmth in your chest was starting to radiate off of you.

Jungkook wanted to rent bicycles for the whole day, but you convinced him that you’d both already be tired after a few hours. He knew you had a point, but he wanted to spend as much time with you as possible and he was fine if bikes were, really, the reason for it.

In the end, you agreed on three hours, which was already too much as both of you began to complain about your thighs hurting after the first hour and a half.

But Amsterdam was beautiful, and it made the ache worth it.

Subtle tinges of decay and dampness, along with the stunning trees, still in miraculous full bloom despite it being mid-September, all tickled your senses as you and Jungkook rode your bikes through the streets of Amsterdam. The canals sparkled on your left while beautiful buildings lined the street on your right, tourists coursing back and forth down the pavement.

The wheel of the bike felt rough against your palms, and you wished you had brought gloves, but the sights, the smells, and even the noise of the crowds made it easier to endure the slight discomfort.

When you caught up to Jungkook, the two of you exchanged a glance. Both of your eyes were glittering, smiles widening, your hair blowing in the wind.

You realised that the sights here looked remarkably like the postcards your uncle had brought you. But being here felt completely different from what you’d expected when you looked at the cards.

Wordlessly, Jungkook smirked and challenged you to a race. Laughing as you sped up to catch up to him again, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes for just a second, savouring it all.

The feeling in your chest right now was something you could never capture in a postcard to bring home.

Another hour later, the two of you returned your bicycles and Jungkook persuaded you to get some ice cream. You had to agree. At that point, you were tired and a little dizzy, and the sun was too bright to do anything but attempt to cool yourselves down.

You sat down on a bench by the canal and Jungkook noticed the almost constant smile on your face. He felt a surge of ideas of all that he could do in hopes of making you smile like this again.

“Did you ever think we’d be here?” he asked after a minute, looking back at the canal. “You and me.”

You looked at him. “What do you mean? In Amsterdam?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Back in university. When you used to look at those postcards above your desk, did you ever imagine us being here?”

You blinked, surprised once again by how much of your conversation in Paris and how much of your life from four years ago he remembered.

“You remember the postcards,” you said softly.

“Of course,” he said, suddenly turning solemn. “I’m sorry I never asked what they meant to you.”

“No, it’s—” you stopped in the middle of shaking your head. Then chose to just answer his previous question instead, “I don’t know. Back then, I think I imagined us everywhere.”

He smiled as he adjusted to the irregular beating of his heart. It was a new constant when he was with you. And it was a health hazard, he knew. And still, he’d missed it.

“Was I in a band in your imagination?” he asked.

“Absolutely not,” you said, pausing while he laughed so hard that he nearly doubled over. You didn’t think your response deserved this reaction, but it drew a smile from you regardless. “And I wasn’t your manager. We were normal people, doing normal things.”

He stopped laughing and looked at you, a slight furrow in his brow. “Wait. Are we not?”

You gave him a look. “Are we?”

“Why not?” he asked with a shrug as he took a bite of his waffle cone before the ice cream could fully melt. “Who’s to say what’s normal?”

You continued to watch him, several classes of statistics and standard deviation under your belt. “Do you want an honest answer?”

“No,” Jungkook said without hesitation. He looked ahead as he spoke, “I like to think that ‘being normal’ is just a construct.”

“Well, it is, but—”

“Don’t do it,” he interrupted. “If you mention statistics, I will—respectfully—toss you right into that canal.” He was the one who paused here as your smile widened at his threat. After a moment, he continued, “let me romanticise this. In my head, we are normal people.”

You agreed with a noncommittal shake of your head. “Okay, sure.”

“To be honest,” he said then, “I never imagined us here.”

“No?”

“In my mind, we were always in our little world. The campus, our dorms, our family homes,” he explained, gesturing with his hand as he listed the places that the two of you had spent years in. “That’s as far as I imagined us.”

You swallowed an unexpected lump in your throat and felt it go down heavily, catching on your trachea, stumbling around your lungs, and forcing you to clear your throat as you still tasted something bitter on your tongue.

It was a nice day. You didn’t want to rip open old wounds and pour salt on them just to see what would happen.

“Well, you’re not far off,” you said, brushing invisible dust off your shorts and focusing on your ice cream for a moment before you added, “that’s as far as we went.”

Jungkook sensed the discomfort in your words, but did not understand the cause.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “We’re here, aren’t we? The furthest I imagined us was, maybe, 100 kilometres south of your mum’s house. By the sea. And now we’re in fucking Amsterdam.”

He was right, you’d made it so far. But even though you felt your shoulders relax a little, you still insisted, “it’s different now.”

“How is it different?” he questioned further.

“Well, for one, we’re not in university anymore,” you said obviously enough. “No campus to come back to.”

“Bless that. I wouldn’t want to go back now.”

“And we’re not together anymore.”

Cringing at the unnecessary addition, Jungkook managed to say, “but we are.”

You looked down as you finished your ice cream and kicked some pebbles with the soles of your sneakers. “You know what I mean.”

“I know,” he replied, not giving up as he looked at you for a moment before stumbling a bit quietly, a bit awkwardly, “but, um. We are together. Still.”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, but looked away after barely a minute, frightened by how much of your shared history you could see there.

You couldn’t do this. Five minutes in the dark bus, with no one but the two of you in your bunk, was one thing. You could pretend it didn’t mean anything, even though his taste still lingered in your mouth.

But this conversation was not something that you could pretend to forget in five minutes. This was four years of silence. Of locked doors, deleted pictures, and wet pillowcases.  

Four years of forced solitude, tall, thick walls, and strict boundaries.

Some of them you’d crossed.

But now you were here. And you couldn’t cross this one. You couldn’t reminisce with him while ignoring the weight of your break-up.

Exhaling, you pursed your lips. “You know what? You’re right. We’re as together now as we were back then.”

Jungkook felt his muscles stiffen. The last bites of his ice cream were completely tasteless.

“What—what is that supposed to mean?” he asked, not blinking as he watched you.

He was cold all of a sudden, he realised. Sitting right under the warm sun of September, and shivering. He suspected that ice cream had very little to do with this.

“You know what it means,” you replied, unaware of how much your vague response affected him because you did not look at him.

It felt like he was speeding down the streets of Amsterdam on his bicycle, and suddenly, someone poked a stick into the wheel, forcing him to fly off the bike and land on something very sharp. Something very confusing. Very painful.

“No,” he said slowly. “I don’t think I do.”

You looked up finally, more out of confusion than anything else. You weren’t sure if he was pretending, playing another stupid game, or if he genuinely did not understand.

He was watching you with a frown, clenching his jaw harder with each passing second that you did not respond. He genuinely did not understand.

“It means,” you said, “that this was what our dates used to be like. Like two co-workers trying to have a meaningful conversation.”

Jungkook didn’t know which word to react to first: ‘co-workers’ or ‘trying’, so he just went quiet.

“And, at what point in our relationship,” he asked after a minute, “did you figure that was how you felt?”

You heard the bitterness in his voice and felt your irritation grow. He had some audacity to question you like this after the way your relationship ended.

“It wasn’t how I felt,” you said, nearly spitting the word out. “It’s how it was.”

He scoffed. “Don’t try to make this objective. It’s clearly just your own perception.”

Your eyebrows rose involuntarily, your heart reacting to his words before your mind could.

“How could it be?” you argued, clearly in disbelief that he had a different point of view. “We barely talked. The longest conversation we had, at that point, was when you had to describe the fucking police station that you were in after you got arrested.”

“At what point?” he asked again, frustration even more evident in his voice.

“I don’t know,” you shot back, exasperated. “A few months before we broke up, maybe? We weren’t spending any time together anymore. And if we were, then your asshole friends were there with us. Everyone who knew us could tell we were going to break up eventually.”

Looking away, Jungkook squeezed his lips together, running his tongue over the inside of his teeth. His entire body seemed to go numb and then suddenly tense up again.

He didn’t know how you got here, how you reached this conversation, but he had a vague feeling that you were meant to talk about this sooner or later.

It wasn’t easy, though. He had to force himself to keep looking at you, force himself to speak, to say the things he’d only managed to put into song lyrics until this point.

“I couldn’t,” he finally said.

You frowned. “What?”

“I couldn’t tell,” he said, a self-deprecating expression on his face. He continued speaking while intentionally gazing into the distance, “you may find that shocking to believe, but until the day you said we shouldn’t be together anymore, I thought we were in love.”

“You literally just said that you could barely imagine us outside of my mum’s house,” you retorted.

“That’s because I never wanted us to be anywhere else!” he snapped, looking at you with a level of anger that you’d never seen in all the years you’d known him. “I liked what we had.”

“We had nothing!” you argued, your hands in the air. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed some tourists doing double-takes as they walked by. You were far too engrossed in the conversation to control your volume. “You went out every night and caused a scene every time you brought your friends over. You went along with them when they tried to kill themselves drag racing, despite my protests. You didn’t even—”

“I named my car after you!” Jungkook interjected, even though the car wasn’t, technically, his. It had been a gift from Sid, so all of his friends could race together, but he thought his point still stood. He used the car, and he wanted it to have your name.

“Right,” you acknowledged his—largely pointless—interruption, “and I’m sure that would have been very meaningful if you hadn’t crashed it on your first fucking drive. Like I told you that you would.”

“Yeah, well.” He moved his jaw, poking his cheek with his tongue. “At least I loved you until the very end.”

That was a lie, the past tense he’d used. But he looked at you and the fire in your eyes intimidated him. He knew you wouldn’t believe him if he told you he’d never stopped being in love with you.

“For your information, I didn’t break up with you because I stopped loving you,” you said with an angry huff. Your following explanation seemed to rip the bandages you’d carefully glued on the gaping wounds in your chest. “I broke up with you because I felt like you stopped loving me.”

He felt a sudden chill, and—immediately—frostbite. As though he’d gone out dancing in a blizzard the night before, and the blood in his veins had frozen, a bewildering cold gripping his chest.

You thought he had stopped loving you.

Jungkook swallowed hard as he listened and couldn’t open his mouth to reply. Couldn’t lift his eyes off the ground.

He didn’t know how long he stayed completely still, alternating between seemingly looking at himself from the outside, and listening to the deafening screeching inside of his mind.

He was paralysed when he felt you stand up from the bench. When he saw your shadow move away and, eventually, disappear.

You hadn’t said another word and he remembered how familiar this feeling was.

He remembered standing in his dorm room, speechless and angry with himself, after you stormed out because he had told you he already had plans; he was going out with Sid, Jude, and Minjun again—racing. Or drinking. Or one after the other, not necessarily in the same order.

Maybe you were right.

He had stopped acting like your boyfriend long before he actually stopped being one.

Because the two of you had wordlessly agreed to never discuss your relationship or your break-up again, four years have passed without any closure whatsoever—and only now he realised that he wasn’t the one who was hurt.

He realised how much he’d hurt you.

All this time, he was insecure about the end of your relationship because you were the one who broke up with him. You were the one who left.

He never looked for reasons within himself. He stupidly, blindly, thought he hadn’t done anything that warranted this. He thought you just didn’t want him anymore. He thought these things happened sometimes.

He never thought he was the one who made that happen.

He didn’t know what he was doing now.

How could he even attempt to get back together with you without making up for his mistakes? Making up for his unforgivable ignorance?

He’d apologise—he’d have to, he could feel his entire skin itching the longer he sat there, not looking for you—but would it mean anything, if you didn’t believe that he changed?

Had he changed?

He was sitting here, alone, after all. Because of a bet that he’d made with the same people who broke you up the first time.

Suddenly, Jungkook looked up. He knew how to answer all of his questions.

He had to act, first of all, instead of passively regretting everything he’d done and hadn’t done.

“The bet is over,” Jungkook declared as soon as he threw open the door of Sid’s hotel room, not bothering to knock.

He wanted to get back together with you, without any underlying conditions, secrets, or bets.

Just you and him.

All three of his friends were here and they were, understandably, surprised. Although Minjun’s shock quickly turned into pride—and Jungkook felt his heart flutter. He needed this.

“What?” Jude asked, poking his head out of Sid’s bathroom and sniffling before he brought his hand over his nose. “You’re back together?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jungkook replied firmly. “I’m not doing this anymore.”

Sid walked out of the bathroom next—Jungkook had no interest in what they were doing in there—with some sort of a mix of a smirk and a scowl on his face.

“Well, you can’t just decide that,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel even though they seemed dry, “can you?”

“Uh, yes, I can,” Jungkook argued, feeling foolish to be having this conversation. It seemed as silly now as it had before, when he had returned from Paris and Sid forcefully prolonged the bet. “I made the bet—”

“We made it, too,” Sid cut him off, his voice stern. He treated this like a legitimate deal, a legally binding contract almost. “And we don’t think it can be over just because you’re afraid of losing.”

“I’m not afraid of losing,” he said and for a moment, he was surprised to realise that he truly meant it. His bike seemed so trivial when compared to all that he could lose if he won it back. “I’m just not fucking doing this with you anymore.”

“Well, then you lose by default,” Sid shrugged. “I keep the bike.”

“Actually, we keep the—” Jude was interjecting, but Jungkook took a large step towards Sid, stopping just inches from his face. It caused Jude to stop talking immediately.

“You don’t keep anything,” Jungkook snarled, emphasising every syllable, despite seeing how little it meant to Sid. “If the bet is over, there’s no winners or losers.”

“But the bet isn’t over,” Sid countered with a self-assured grin. “Not unless all involved parties agree to it. Right, Minjun?”

Jungkook glanced at the only remaining person in this room.

Minjun sounded uncomfortable as he began, “well, to be honest—”

“Careful now,” Sid cut in sharply. “You’re supposed to enforce the rules of the bet.”

Of course, what he really meant was, you’re supposed to obey me.

Jungkook saw Minjun hesitate.

“Look, man, it’s a bet,” he said. Jungkook felt himself exhale in immeasurable relief. He had someone on his side. He had a friend. Minjun continued, “it’s literally just a game. If he doesn’t want to do it anymore, then—”

“Then tough shit, isn’t it?” Sid’s tone was menacing. “Considering he’s going to have to do it anyway.”

“It was stupid—”

Sid was so indecently unfazed that he was practically inviting a punch in the face as he replied, “he shouldn’t have agreed to it if it was stupid.”

His sneer made Jungkook perk up.

“I didn’t agree to shit. It was you—” he started to say, then cut himself off. He did agree to it. But he couldn’t help but still feel manipulated. Tricked.

Likely for the first time in his life, Jungkook could see—with bitter clarity—that these people were bad for him. But he’d called them friends for so long, he’d done so much with them, never really facing any long-term consequences, that he never even questioned it.

Until now.

Until he realised that there was a long-term consequence to his friendship with Sid: your break-up.

“I’m not doing this,” Jungkook finally finished.

“Not doing what?” Sid asked with a laugh that seemed louder than usual, strengthened by whatever he’d done in the bathroom before he got interrupted. “If you back out, you lose. The bike goes to me—”

“And me,” Jude interjected. Jungkook was this close to knocking them both out, but he knew it’d bring him exactly zero extra points with his band or with you.

“—what’s not clear to you about this?” Sid finished, ignoring Jude and the glare on Jungkook’s face.

“I won the first bet,” Jungkook hissed, “so the bike is, technically, mine, but that’s—”

“Technically, you didn’t,” Sid interrupted, pouting to convey fake-pity. “And you won’t win this one, either. That’s clearly why you’re trying so hard to get out of this. It’s what you do. You never fight if you see that you won’t immediately succeed.”

It stung – because he knew that Sid was right. But it also felt unfair, because Sid was the one who made it impossible for Jungkook to succeed at anything unless he excelled at it on the first try. Sid simply couldn’t voluntarily surround himself with people who were better than him, so he put in great effort to make sure they weren’t.

“I’m not—I’m just realising how fucking immature you are,” Jungkook retorted, trying to control the volume of his voice as he knew his frustration only benefitted Sid.

Sid laughed and leaned in even closer—his nose nearly brushed against Jungkook. Once again, he felt irritated that despite barely being shorter than Sid, he was still treated like the last living hobbit.

“Oh, the little baby thinks I’m immature because he realises that we’re not here to cater to his wishes,” Sid taunted. If the edges of Jungkook’s vision weren’t so red, he might have pointed out the irony to him; Sid was the one who made a living by forcing people to favour him. “Maybe you should have considered that before making the bet. You’ve never won against me. And you never will.”

“Sid,” Minjun cut in again. “Let it go. You can have your fun at someone else’s expense.”

He pulled something out of his pocket, and Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat when he recognised the keys to his Katana. Sid had a similar reaction, except his surprise quickly turned to disdain.

Who does he think he is, Sid’s scorn seemed to be asking, to defy me?

“You might want to think twice about it, Minjun,” Sid said out loud, his voice dangerously calm. He pulled away from Jungkook to give Minjun a warning look. “You think this is a funny little game, but I bet it won’t be so funny when it has very real consequences.”

Jungkook turned his head in time to witness Minjun’s face drain of colour, but he couldn’t comprehend this reaction—not in a way that made sense, at least. His only assumption was outrageous.

Would Sid really take this so far? Would he really exaggerate the significance of this bet so much?

“What—what is he talking about?” Jungkook asked Minjun. “Your parents?”

Minjun simply hung his head, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip on the keys in his hand. He didn’t say anything, and Jungkook knew it was true.

Sid was threatening Minjun’s family—the jobs of his parents, both of whom depended on Sid’s mother. Without her, they would still have enough money to survive, even keep and maintain all of their real estate, but Sid’s mother had the power to blacklist them from the industry. And she would, Jungkook knew. She’d do anything for her only child.

Sid was using Minjun’s parents as leverage for something as stupid as a fucking bet that Minjun did not even make. A bet that was never supposed to even get this far.

That was the point he was proving.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. He recognised what this was really about, these tireless attempts to establish superiority.

Sid was the great-grandson of one of the top conglomerates in the country. The only downside to his life was that his inheritance came from his mother’s side of the family. As a result, he was taken less seriously among his family—because the Old Money world that he lived in functioned only within their favourite -isms: sexism and racism.

Sid was no one in the eyes of his relatives. So, he was going to do everything to make sure he was someone here.

“That’s what I thought,” Sid barked at Minjun’s submissive silence. He turned to Jungkook. “So, what’s it going to be? You admit your defeat now, or do you want to delay it? I’m generous enough to wait. I know I’ll win in the end. I always do.”

He always had a point to prove to an audience that listened. And his audience was here, in this room.

But Jungkook was done listening.

“You know what?” he said. He glanced at Minjun—who stood there helplessly and miserably—before looking back at Sid and spitting, “I’m not going to fucking entertain you anymore. Fuck you.”

Without waiting for either of them to respond, Jungkook stormed out of Sid’s room, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t even consider the possible complaints from other hotel guests who probably heard him throw the door open fifteen minutes ago, and then leave again in an equally furious manner.

Blind to everything around him, he marched over to your room and knocked on your door before he lost the angry courage.

He needed you. He’d always had.

You appeared surprised when you opened the door and saw him in the hall.

“Hey,” he said, looking somehow very small, despite his frame filling the entire doorway. “Can I come in? We should talk.”

You watched him for a minute.

The two of you had just had your first fight about your relationship since you started working together and decided to leave everything that had happened between you in the past.

Neither of you knew if this argument was a good thing (closure?) or a bad thing (a final fight in your long list of fights).

But maybe today had to be the day you found out.

“Yeah,” you decided, stepping aside to let him in. “We should.”

chapter title credits: bad omens, “the letdown”

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[apomaro-mellow]

King and Prince 20

Part 19

There was no other way to describe it, Eddie thought as he literally watched Steve sitting under a tree with Robin, laughing at something she said. Spring had not only come to this land, but to the prince as well. Like a flower in bloom, he was open and inviting. And everyone longed to be like the sun, having that flower turn to face them. At least, that was the thought that crossed Eddie’s mind and surely everyone else felt the same way.

He teased the kids more, ruffling their hair, and even allowing himself to be the but of the joke at times. He and Robin turned out to be thick as thieves, which Eddie could have never predicted. All this because he had been allowed to roam the town.

Yesterday, Eddie happened to spy a hickey peeking from the top of Steve’s collar and could deny it no longer. He had found a lover. Steve had found a lover. Perhaps even more than one. After all, there was no reason to limit himself to just one. The fact remained though that someone was making him glow with their affections. 

Someone out there was kissing him, whispering sweet things in his ear, telling him how lovely he was-SNAP

Eddie looked down to the broken quill in his hand. 

“Something on your mind?”, Gareth asked, returning a book on one of his shelves.

Eddie wriggled his fingers and brushed the broken quill away, careful not to smudge what he had just been writing. “No. Nothing at all”, he lied. 

Gareth waited patiently for him to continue, knowing he would. In the meantime, he grabbed another book and sat on the other side of Eddie’s desk.

“Steve has been going out often, hasn’t he?”

“About every other night, yes. Are you regretting giving him that freedom?”

“Well…”, Eddie struggled for only a second to think of a reason. “What if Nancy’s right?” He pushed off from his desk and stood, going to the window behind him. Thankfully Nancy was in a neighboring town, otherwise he’d fear she would actually materialize out of thin air.

“About the prince conspiring with townsfolk?”

“Or a spy. Anyone really. We just don’t know.”

Gareth sighed. “Time to put on my ‘Nancy hat’. Why don’t you send someone to follow him and see?”

The last thing Eddie wanted to see was Steve actually in the middle of the deed. But going along just far enough to make sure no other liaisons were happening was just his duty as a king, wasn’t it? He had to protect his people. And if Steve was only just meeting lovers, well he should feel confident enough to bring them back to the castle to introduce to everyone, shouldn’t he? If they weren’t conspirators anyway.

Eddie found the resolution to do so just a few nights later. He and Robin were relaxing in a sitting room, sipping together after having sent the kids to bed a couple hours ago. That was when Steve came in and draped himself on the couch Robin was sitting on with a dreamy sigh.

“Let me guess”, she said. “The woodcarver’s son?”

“You know me a little too well for how short we’ve known each other”, Steve said, bringing his head to her lap.

Eddie was sitting on the couch opposite them, leg propped up on the armrest. He didn’t like the way Steve didn’t even seem to notice he was there.

“You’re late”, he said, sitting up.

Steve turned just his head to look at him. “I know, I’m sorry. But it’s not always easy to get away.”

Robin snorted. “You mean clean up takes forever?”

“Don’t be crass”, Steve scolded lightly. “And I’ll have you know, Jason is the perfect gentleman. He always helps me clean up afterward.”

Eddie knew of Jason, the son of a woodcarver. Diligent in his work, a leader among the youth in town. His face was…fine, Eddie had to admit. He certainly wasn’t plotting to take Eddie’s kingdom down, that was for sure. Born and raised here, Jason only stirred up trouble a couple of times the way kids typically did. He had no reason to mistrust him.

And yet…

As the night went on, Steve and Robin continued to talk about him. Apparently Jason first saw him at the festival when he competed in the games. They talked a lot about athletic pursuits. Wood carving wasn’t for the soft of hands after all. Robin asked about others Steve had met with. Faith, Gabriella, Harris, but it always came back to Jason. 

He must be Steve’s favorite. Which meant that Eddie had to see what the big deal was about. On top of all the other reasons he’d come up with before too, of course. Steve didn’t go out the next night or the one after. But the third night, he did and Eddie followed. He traveled in the shadows until they got to town, then shifted to a bird. His usual form would have been instantly recognizable at this point, so he went with a starling appearance tonight.

Steve tied his horse to a post and went into a tavern. Eddie perched on a window just long enough to see Steve immediately sit down with a young woman. So not Jason. He waited by the door for someone to go through and flew in, staying aloft in the rafters and close to the edges of the ceiling. He got right above their table to listen in. She seemed a sweet lady, but looks could be deceiving.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight”, Steve said. “I thought your family needed help at home this week?”

“I was able to get away”, she said. “Are you…disappointed?”

Steve reached out and touched her cheek. “How could I be when I am gifted with your presence?”

She melted in his touch and Eddie had seen enough. There was nothing shady going on, so he had no reason to stay. He went back home, but spent about an hour, pacing about in his room, trying to find explanation for why he was so agitated. Steve hadn’t lied. Hadn’t gone against them. Which meant he got to say ‘I told you so’ to Nancy when she got back. The night after that, Eddie sat down in his chair, ready for story time but was off most of the evening. El was the one to point it out.

“Why do you keep looking at the door? Are you expecting someone?”

“This late?”, Lucas asked.

“Yeah, you’ve been kind of twitchy all night”, Dustin added.

“No I haven’t, and it’s fine”, Eddie brushed them off. He knew it was because of Steve. If these kids knew, they wouldn’t stop until they got to the bottom of why. And Eddie wasn’t ready to face the why. 

It wasn’t until Robin spoke up later, once the children were sent off that he got the kick in the pants to find out the truth.

“They’re right you know. You were twitchy.”

“You know I can’t stand still for more than a minute”, Eddie said in his defense.

“Yeah, but this is different. It’s like…”, then she snapped her fingers. “How Mike gets when Will would rather spend time with Lucas.”

Eddie’s stomach dropped. They had been teasing Mike about his not so secret crush for a while now. To be compared to that…

The only way to prove he wasn’t jealous was to see Steve actually be with someone and have no problem with it, right? He had walked in on more than one of his servants entangled with each other. It was a big castle, places for secret rendezvous were numerous. He’d even happened on Dustin stealing a kiss from a girl in town once. He felt nothing when watching others share their affections. So Steve shouldn’t be any different. 

Eddie hadn’t disciplined Steve when he came back late, so he got more bold with his curfew. He always returned to lay his head in the castle, Eddie noticed, but he didn’t rush back as the sun set either. One day he left as the sun was dipping low, giving the last bits of light as he traveled on the path from here to town. 

Eddie followed, in his raven form this time as pitch black wings were better for camouflage in the night. And Steve may recognize this form, but even if he saw him, surely he wouldn’t put two and two together. There was more than one raven in the world, they couldn’t all be Eddie. When Steve dismounted, the tavern was just a quick stop. He tied the horse to a post and then went across the street. 

He watched the prince chat up a candlemaker, seemingly having just a nice conversation before leaving to go somewhere else. Eddie was about to follow when his bird’s eye view allowed him to see a child sitting in an alley, legs hugged to their chest. He flew down and pecked at their shoe to get their attention.

A nice shoe, not an orphan, probably just lost. The kid seemed down on themselves and after Eddie played around to get their spirits up (making funny bird noises, puffing his feathers up, tugging at their hair) he was able to lead them out of the alley. Feeling less hopeless, the child called out for their parents and Eddie helped to get attention by squawking from their shoulder.

A man ran up and scooped up the kid, grateful for having found him. Eddie took his leave then, but had unfortunately lost Steve. He knew he wasn’t at the pub, so his only lead was the woodcarver’s. That was where he flew and sure enough, when he perched on the roof, he heard something from behind it.

A soft sound, just a low ‘mmf’ that anyone else still on the street or in their homes wouldn’t be able to pick up. He walked across the roof and the posterior of the shop was lit by just a single lantern hung from a rung. He peered down, almost hanging upside down to see Steve, legs wrapped around Jason while he was sat upon some crates. Steve let out another quiet moan and Jason gave him a gentle shush.

“It’s the evening hour, you’ll wake everyone up if you’re too loud”, Jason smiled while continuing to thrust into him.

Steve pressed his lips together to keep from making too much noise. His eyes were unfocused as they looked up, suddenly gaining focus and gasping when he noticed the bird watching them. Eddie remained frozen. If he left now that he’d been spotted it would practically confirm his identity. Steve tightened his hold on Jason. His panting picked up as he got closer and Jason stuck two fingers into his mouth.

The prince groaned and for just a moment, Eddie imagined what wonders Steve was doing with his mouth. Was he simply sucking or did his tongue lick between the digits? Eddie knew he should leave, it was only decent. But Steve’s gaze kept him tethered to where he was. His eyes only closed when he started to cum, Jason pushing and pulling a few more times before he did as well. 

Steve was floating. Jason pulled his fingers out and wiped them on his shirt. He was saying something as Steve came back into himself but he wasn’t sure what. The bird had flown away.

Part 21

Taglist

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent  @snakeorsquid  @ignoremyworld  @theclichefortunecookie 

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@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane @puppy-steve

[gremlinmodetweeker]

hiii >< I see you're still taking request so maybe can you write about how könig would confort his insecure s/o? not just about her weight but also her ability to do things? like "oh no I'm not good and pretty enough"

I'm going through a hard time right now so it'd help a lot T.T

(also can I slide into your dm? I want to make friend and talk about könig but I'm scared you might be uncomfortable)

Okay so thank you so so much for this ask? It genuinely warms my heart. I had an idea of writing a prompt for König comforting an insecure reader, but I didn’t really know how to start. This really helped! I do not know if I perfectly got what you wanted, but I hope it’s okay? Sometimes I am not very good at interpreting others, I admit. Also, my dms are always open (and I especially like making new friends in this community). I hope to hear from you soon, and I hope you like this story!

So, just under 2.1k words, all soft and sweet. Total fluff. TW for insecurities and self hatred, but it gets talked over. Story below the cut.

Faker

König sat on your bed behind you, watching you with patient eyes. You’d just come home from an outing, and though you had put on an act for others, he could see how it had worn on you. He knew that you couldn’t do it forever, but he didn’t blame you in the slightest. Nobody could do what you tried to do.

 You looked in the mirror, staring with blank eyes at your persecutor.

These hands, they made so many mistakes… These lips have uttered so many lies… These eyes have seen truth and beauty and joy, but now they see nothing but a hollow shell. Who is this empty vessel that stands before you? Did you ever really know who they were?

König stands up and steps forward, gently resting his hands on your shoulders, on the vessel’s shoulders.

“What do you see?” König asked softly, taking one hand to brush away tears you had not noticed.

“I see…” you paused, “Myself.”

König rested his head over you, watching you with his ice blue eyes. They looked at you, tried to hold your gaze, but the cold was too much for you to bear.

“Do you?” he whispered.

You blinked, taking a moment to sniff and recompose your dignity. Tears welled up further, but you held to them tightly, refusing to let them drop. But unfortunately, you are no God, you can defy no calling such as this. Emotions control your very being, and so you cry.

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

König let you cry. It would be cruel to stop you at this point. You tried to fight back, doing your best to build your sandcastle against the ocean, but with every hiccup you suppressed and every sniff you held back, the waves would wash over you again. And eventually, you gave up. You followed the siren’s song and drowned in your sorrows.

“I hate myself,” you finally were able to say.

König pressed a kiss to your temple and dropped his chin to your shoulder, “Why?”

“I… I don’t have enough time to go into all the reasons,” your voice cracked and warbled like a strangled seabird.

“I have time,” König replied.

“I don’t,” you said, your tone cold as the ice that he held in his eyes.

König nodded and wrapped his hands over your shoulders.

“You do not have to explain if you do not want to,” he said, his words like down on your ears, “sometimes, words are not enough.”

“It feels like they’re never enough,” you closed your eyes, unable to endure his watchful eyes any longer.

“When are they ever?” König hummed, “english is not a good language to express yourself, anyways.”

“Is it easier in German?” you asked hopefully.

You could feel König shaking his head, “Nein.”

You sniffled and opened your eyes again. You hated what you saw. You hated the kindness in his cold blue eyes. You hated the hollowness in your warm body more. Ice and fire, freezing and burning. What would be the best way to die? In your own selfish inferno, or would you let the ice of your lover’s touch shock you to reality? Or would that make you numb, too? Was it better to be numb because you had killed your cells through burning yourself alive, or through ice turning your boiling blood into nothing but a muddy sludge through your veins?

“I don’t want to be like this,” you could see yourself frown more than feel it.

“You do not have to be,” König reminded you.

“I don’t know how to change,” you replied dryly.

“Do you have to change to learn to love who you are?” König asked, taking a moment to brush his cheek over yours, water lapping over a sandy beach, “or is there something here worthy of love?”

“I don’t think so,” you muttered and turned to hide your face into his putrid mask, right where you belonged.

“Do you not think you are worthy of love as you are?” he asked.

“Why would I be?” you scrunched your eyes tight, tight enough to hear the water washing through you.

König carefully pried your face away from his mask, kindly not commenting on the mucus you’d left behind. Instead, he gently turned your chin to look back into the mirror. You groaned as he did so and tried to turn back, but such gentle hands became firm as ice.

“Maybe you should try to look at what is worth loving?” he whispered, “just try.”

“What is there to love?” you cried.

“So much,” he told you, “so much.”

You opened your eyes to see yourself. What you saw was worse than before. Red-rimmed eyes, runny nose, flushing skin. You really were a mess, weren’t you? You looked like you’d been drowned and then revived, cursed to walk the earth once more.

König cut off your spiraling thoughts with a piercing, “When I look in this mirror, I see someone who has been hurt for too long.”

“Nobody hurt me,” you protest meekly.

“You did,” his words gored into you like ice picks, “maybe, someone a long time ago said something to you. Maybe you made a mistake and it never left you. I do not know. I do know that whatever led you to think that you are nothing worth loving is wrong. It is not what you are. You are more than the past.”

“How would you know that?” you scoffed meanly.

König shrugged.

“Maybe because I know what it feels like to look in a mirror and see something I do not like.”

You turned and looked at him briefly before he redirected your gaze to the mirror, the ice in his eyes thawing with fear and insecurities you saw within yourself.

“I ask myself, what is there to love? How could anyone care about me? Surely, nobody loves me,” he said, “but I am wrong. There are people who care, they just do not say it out loud. Maybe it is because they are scared.”

“Scared of what?” you asked.

“Scared of being… Ah, what is the word… Scared of being vulnerable, I think,” König shrugged half heartedly, “but I think that vulnerability is how we grow. You cannot be strong by hurting yourself. Strength does not come from nothingness.”

“But you’re so strong,” you sniffled.

“I am strong because I saw my weakness, and I saw something lovable inside. So I worked to make what was lovable more important than what was not,” König replied, “I was afraid, small, and vulnerable. But by being vulnerable, I learned I could grow.”

“So then what does that mean for me?” you asked.

“I think it means that it is okay to hurt, but you can’t let that hurt define how you see yourself,” König hummed.

“What do you mean?” you asked timidly.

“I think that it is easy to think only of weakness. However, there is more to that weakness. I think sometimes, we need to be weak to be strong. You might be weak now,” König lay his head against yours, “and I think you can become strong.”

“As strong as you?” you tried to say playfully, but it came out grating like a gull’s cry.

“You do not need to be as strong as me,” you could see his face soften behind his mask, “you need to be strong enough for yourself. You cannot let anyone else define strength for you.”

“Do I need to be strong to be loved?” you thought aloud.

“Nein,” König’s voice hardened, then softened when he continued, “love is strength itself. To love and to be loved is to be strong. To love yourself is the strongest thing you can do.”

You pursed your lips into a line. Finally, you asked, “So do you love yourself?”

König’s eyes crinkled at the corners, “Sometimes. Sometimes it is hard. Do you not think so?”

You frown, “I don’t know. I haven’t loved myself too much lately.”

“I think you must find something to love in yourself,” König replied, “but that might take searching. You cannot let someone else tell you what is worth loving. I know it is hard, but once you find something, hold onto it. And keep holding on.”

“How can you be so sure that there’s something I can love?” you asked.

“There is always something. Even the blackest hearts can love the soot that coats them,” König mused.

You looked at yourself. You frowned, and then locked your eyes on his.

“What if I can’t find something to love?” you asked nervously.

“Then you must do the hardest thing of all,” König furrowed his brows, “you must fake it. You must tell yourself you love something, even if you do not believe it.”

You scoffed, “But why? That’s so stupid.”

“It is in the beginning,” König admitted, “but it is not stupid always. It gets better, but you have to do it every day. That is the hardest part, you know? Doing it every day. But if you keep doing it, it gets better.”

You look at yourself. Your eyes are not so red, your breathing has steadied. You look a bit better, but you don’t quite know if the word ‘better’ is the word you’d choose.

“So, if I have to lie to myself, what should I lie about?” you ask.

“Well, if it helps, whenever I see myself in a mirror, I smile at myself,” König says, “but I do not always feel it inside. But I keep doing it. I want to get to a point where I can smile in a mirror, and I can feel myself smiling back.”

“How did you decide that?” you asked.

“Everyone likes a good smile, ja?” König chuckled, “so why not have a nice smile? I think your smile is very pretty, ja, but do you?”

You cast your eyes down, looking into the deep abyss of your feet, then replied, “I don’t know.”

“Then maybe that is a place to start. Tell yourself that you have a pretty smile.”

“It sounds so stupid though,” you snort.

“It does sound stupid! But that is why you must do it. And anyways, is it not nice to smile? A smile is a powerful thing,” König smiled under his mask, “it is a tool. You need to care for your tools. So love your smile. It is, if nothing else, a good place to start.”

“And if I trick myself into loving my smile?” you laugh.

“Then find something else to love,” König determined, “there is always more to love, especially with you.”

“You really think there’s always more to love in me?” you shook your head in disbelief.

“I do not think,” König said sternly, “I know. There is a very important difference between those words. You should remember that.”

“Well, I believe you’re being stupid,” you snort.

“Believe what you want, but I will still have my beliefs. And my belief is that you have so much to love,” König wrapped his arms around you in a reassuring hug, “I see so much to love, so much I want to show you about yourself. You are so wonderful. Yet you cannot see that? I do not understand, but I think you think that there is something worth loving in me. And if you can see something worth loving in others, why should there not be something worth loving in you?”

“I don’t know,”  you admitted.

“I think it is silly to say everyone deserves love and then remove yourself from your own statement,” König ducked his head down, “and if nothing else, let me find something in you to love. If nobody else will say it, then let me say that you have so much in you that is worthy of love. All of you is worthy of love. You may not think so, but I love you regardless of whatever you think you are.”

“Even when I do things you don’t like?” you cup his head in one hand.

“Especially when you do things I do not like,” König affirmed, “because to love all of you I must love your flaws. To love someone conditionally like that is to not love at all. So I love all parts of you, regardless of what you may think of those.”

“You’re being too nice,” you dismiss him gently.

“I think ‘too nice’ is not real,” König retorted, “I think that is a stupid thing people say to avoid feeling. I am not afraid of my feelings, and so I am proud to say I love you for you. I just hope that one day, you can love yourself like I love you.”

“You really think I can do that?” you ask.

“I do not think, I believe.

[kingkatsuki]

Well, now I gotta ask!! Which faves have a harder time then most when it comes to pulling out, or do they all easily succumb to just filling you up??

For one, Sero 100% isn’t pulling out. Don’t believe his promises because they are ALL lies. He has the audacity to tell you after that it’s your fault for having such a pretty pussy he couldn’t do her the injustice of pulling out.

Bakugou definitely tries the hardest, his jaw clenched and his muscles tense as he tries to ease his hips back. It’s worse knowing that this man could easily overpower you and pull out, but he doesn’t. Because that sick and twisted part of him is already picturing how pretty you’d look if he fucked a baby into you. And when he finally does pull out after filling you up, he’s the first to push the cum leaking out of you back inside you for good measure.

Poor Sanemi tries so hard too. He’s very much like Bakugou, as in this was discussed beforehand and he wants to respect your decision for him to pull out. He has a really hard time ignoring your pleas when he’s balls deep though, and he’s the one reminding you what you said to him before you were delirious with pleasure. And honestly, Sanemi virtually does manage to pull out, but it’s still not enough when his tip is still nestled perfectly inside your walls as he wraps himself in a fist and jerks his load into you anyway.

Kunigami is ever a stickler for the rules, and has to ignore your pouty face when he does obey your instructions and manages to unravel himself from your iron-clad grip barely in time to spill his cum all over your pelvis. Panting and chastising you that “that was too close.” And “You shouldn’t do that, sweetheart.” But yet he doesn’t stop you when he watches your fingers gather his cum from your pelvis to push it inside your fluttering walls yourself— his own fingers even join yours to help. Yeah he’s down bad.

And Kirishima is worst of all— because the whole, entire time he’s vocal. Telling you that he’s close and that he’s gonna pull out at any second, because he’s kind and respectful. But then of course your walls clench around him and he’s gone, hips jerking sloppily as he cums inside you balls deep. Still whispering apologies into your neck, even though he’s still buried deep inside you, with NO intention of pulling out anytime soon.