#ass behind all his smiles and whatnot so he decides to study him like a bug but also not really because he had better things to do.

[reelaround-deactivated05312024]

Dumbledore is like those elves from LotR that have already seen fucked up shit before Lord of the Rings so to them Sauron is kinda meh…like ok I gotta go on the boat but whatever….Voldemort comes back to life and the first name he drops after molesting a teenager is Dumbledore’s because Dumbledore rented a whole penthouse in his mind… while Dumbledore is in his bedroom thinking about Grindelwald… Voldemort is not his first enemy, not even his first Dark Lord….you’re not the love and hate of mommy dearest’s life…that happened in her sweet youth….he’s just an afterthought, an aftertaste, a consolation prize…

the i gotta go on the boat but whatever mindset is psychologically DESTROYING dark lords all over the world

[multific]

Trainers

Owen Grady x Reader

Summary: You are the trainer of the Mosasaurus, you have been working with her since she was a tiny little thing. So, you don’t appreciate when another trainer is asked to check on the work you have been doing.

 You understood that Claire wanted results. But they never understood that a creature such as a dinosaur is not as easy to train as a dog. Nevertheless, when the owner of the park specifically asked for you to be the caretaker of the Mosasaurus, you just knew you had to accept. Being a well respected Marine Biologist in your field, you loved the different challenge this would bring. Although you had to do a lot of studying. You would normally focus on a lot of species, so only having to deal with one animal was quite different. 

When you first saw her, you knew, you understood just how special she really was and you fell in love with the tiny being. Well, back then she was the size of an alligator, but then she grew into her normal size. She got huge. Even her tank spoke to itself.

Momo was chosen to do one of trick for the public. To eat a shark from a hook, splashing water onto the crowd. You knew she wasn’t a circus animal. You understood that, but since you two spent so much time together, a bond formed between you two. And you were more than surprised when she listened to you. 

One late night you were sitting by her tank, looking at her as she swam around. This was all she knew, the water, the hook and you. You often went to the Underwater Observatory where you can look into her tank through the glass. You spoke to her days on end as you just sat there after you finished with your work for the day. 

And one day, it happened.

Just like a dolphin show, you were talking and motioning around and when you moved your hand up as an expression, she jumped out of the water. The very first instant this happened, you didn’t pay much mind to it, thinking it was a coincidence. But then she did it again and again. Just as you lifted your hand up each time.

Progress.

Of course, you were to report every incident, but you chose not to tell them about this new revelation. You were afraid they will exploit her for money even more.

So, as you never reported any progress, Claire decided to send another trainer in.

Owen Grady.

He was supposed to look at your work for a month. You hated being supervised like that.

“Mr. Grady, nice to meet you, my name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m Momo’s caretaker.”

“Please just call me Owen. To be honest I’m as happy to be here as you are. I’d rather be with my girls, so please just give me a quick run through, so I can leave.” 

“Okay...But, Owen. Claire said that you are to watch me for a month.”

“A MONTH? She didn’t mention that to me. Or I wasn’t listening. Probably the latter.” he made you laugh a little. Maybe it was better that he was the one who was sent and not some uptight ass. 

“Alright. So, it’s hard to miss her tank, or her. She eats a lot. There are public feedings, every two hour she gets a shark. I have been with her since she was born. Little thing she was. She is very stubborn, but I did hand feed her in her early years. She gave me a lovely scar too. From my wrist to my pinky on my left hand.” you showed him the scar. “Silly mistake. But I learned from it.”

“Do you talk to her?”

“I do. Steve thinks I’m mental, since she is under water, she wouldn’t hear. But I like to think that she somehow feels that I talk to her you know?”

He nodded and looked around, then up. He noticed a long walking platform way up high. 

“What’s that?” you looked up where he was looking.

“That is the new idea. Guests would be able to go up there and watch her from there. But they are not sure if she can jump that high, so it’s still not very safe. Although I told them that she wouldn’t be able to, they want to be safe. We can go up if you want to.”

You hated being up there, your fear of heights didn’t help you either. 

“You okay there?” Owen asked as he watched you taking deep breaths and your hands gripping the railing.

“No. I hate it up here.”

“Then why did you suggest to come up?” he laughed.

“I don’t know. It was silly. Can you see her?”

“Yes. She is...swimming. Shockingly. She is 84 feet long and she weights over 30,000 lbs, when the last time we checked. She is rather calm. Prefers to swim around and eats when she is supposed to. She is not socialized with other dinos, considering that the majority would drown in her enclosure. Can we go down now, please?”

Owen stood there, looking at the huge water monster swimming right below him. Then he looked up at you, and gave you a nod.

***

Owen has been working with you for the last week. He gave many ideas on what to do and how to earn their trust.

You also didn’t fail to notice how muscular and handsome he was. 

Each morning he arrived on his bike, looking sexy as can be. And every day he observed you. He watched as you said hi to her every morning, said how you liked to make sure her food was correctly prepared. It was obvious for him that you cared about the Mosasaurus very much. 

Owen wasn’t sure what else they wanted from the dino himself, He knew they created her as an amusement for viewers as a feeding show and nothing more. So, then why did Claire wanted him to come here and watch over you. As far as he was concerned, this particular dino wasn’t even the need of a caretaker. She just swam around and ate sharks as an attraction. He suspected there was something more behind the story he had been told. 

Owen admittedly loved the Underwater Observatory. It was cool down there, not only the weather, but they you can look into the enclosure and watch the majestic beast.

He also took a liking to it’s trainer. Even if he wasn’t sure what you were training the dino to do.

“How about tomorrow you come over to the raptors? I can show them off for you like you did with Momo.” Owen came up with the idea on his second week during lunch time.

“Oh, sure. I would like to.” Little did he know that you showed the very least to him.

During his two weeks, Owen and you formed some kind of friendship. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t like him, even if you knew about the rumors about his dating methods. But he never once hinted on anything with you. Or you just didn’t notice. Which was also a possibility, you were quite oblivious with men.

So, the next day after making sure that Momo was all set and healthy, we headed to the raptors. 

Although I wasn’t that interested in land species, his four girls amazed you. 

“Wow. they listen to you so well.” you said smiling at him as you watched the four inside the paddock. 

Owen looked very proud of himself. 

You spent all day at the velociraptor paddock. Owen told you about the plans that they had. And it was exactly what you feared would happen to your girl.

Exploiting them for military or personal gain. 

The thought disgusted you.

These were amazing creatures. In your opinion you should be learning from them, and not using them for war.

In the evening, everyone has left, you and Owen were still at the raptors’ paddock. You looked down at them running around.

“I don’t want Momo to have the same fate. Military? Really? That’s what we are doing now? These creatures are amazing, beautiful. Even the fact that we keep them on display is rather disgusting let alone using them as weapons.”

“I agree with you. But I can also see how they would be able to save many lives. Men and women.”

“But they will never be able to control them like that. Not by their own free will. It takes time. You have known them since they were little. Momo is... she is basically an attraction to them, nothing more. They wanted me to each her tricks. Like she was a fucking pony. Jumping through loops and whatnot. And when I refused, they threatened to throw me out. So, I had to come up with something. Telling them that she is not able to do such things. Even if it’s a lie.” you eyes widened at what you just said. You just confessed your greatest secret. 

“What do you mean lie? So, she can jump?” you panicked a little but his calm demeanor helped you a little.

“S-She can. Not as high as those railings go but...She can. Oh, Owen, please don’t tell Claire. They will make her into a complete circus animal, more than she already is.” you didn’t even realize but you were so desperate that you grabbed his forearm, pleading with him.

“I won’t. I promise. I decided on my second day over there that I will tell her that you are taking a good care of her and that a Mosasaurus is not a dolphin you can teach tricks to. But I’m clearly wrong. Could you show me?”

You were soon standing by her tank. Owen looked down at the water.

“I never understood. If she can get the shark from there, why doesn’t she jump out to get the guests?”

“Well, one, they are too small, so she is not interested and two, her species main food source comes from the water or from above such as flying dinosaurs. But as you can see her water is lower than the path, they made this safe so she wouldn’t jump out and eat guests.”

“I see. So how does this work? I don’t guess that you whistle to her.” Owen said as he stood next to you.

“No. I just...” it was easier to show him, so you reached your hand out as far as you could before moving it up.

And just as you did, she jumped out of the water and back in, as elegantly as a dino of her size possibly could. 

“Wow.” Owen watched as the water splashed neither of you cared that you were soaked.

“One night. I was talking to her. And as I moved my hand, she started doing things. She can also spin, but that looked better down under the water.”

“She listens to you.”

“I like to think that if I was to fall into the water one day, she won’t eat me immediately, but I might be too naïve.” Owen looked at you and all he could think is how beautiful you looked.

“This really is something else. You must have an amazing bond.” you smiled at Owen who got your now soaked wet hair out of your face. He slowly leaned down and was about to place his lips on yours when another sudden splash of water interrupted him. He groaned and as he looked down at the water noticed Momo slowly descending into the water. 

You only laughed at the annoyed expression on Owen’s face.

“Maybe take me on a date first, Mr. Grady, I think then she will approve.” you said as he finally looked back at you.

His eyes softened.

Maybe you will thank Claire later for sending Owen over. Who could have thought that two trainers would find each other on an island like that? 

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My taglist is open!

Feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank You for reading my story!~

[send-allmyloving]

daisuke with jealous s / o? I think it can be interesting and maybe even cute, depends on the reaction of daisuke 🤔

ohoho funnn thanks for this ask!

Daisuke with a jealous s/o

Working at Tokyo’s Metropolitan Detective Division could be a real pain in the ass. The environment there was just not as professional is you thought it would have seemed, and working as an interrogator was only slightly thrilling; you were still restricted to the Modern Crime Prevention Task Force along with Haru, and the jobs that you were forced to handle were nothing above the ordinary; just the same old drug busts and whatnot.

Of course, having your multi-millionaire boyfriend, Daisuke, at your side took off the edge a little bit, but you can’t help but be annoyed at how little things were going on in your life. You needed some form of thrill, which is why you went through the hell of studying forensic science and detective work, yet here you were sitting in a plain office with only a few people in your division, filing out paperwork.

However, what was really irking you today was seeing all the girls and guys that flocked around Daisuke everywhere he went, whether it was on missions or even in the office. He didn’t seem to mind, accepting the snacks some of them would give him and allowing them to engage with him in any kind of stupid conversation, even if they were so obviously flirting with him! Though you knew how stupidly oblivious this man could get, you still got so damn jealous that those people were trying to get to him shamelessly even when they were openly aware of the relationship you and him shared.

Your resolve finally snapped when you had just finished a field job with Haru and Daisuke, seeing the client talk with Daisuke on the side with a shameless blush dusting her face as she handed him a small gift bag, as well as a slip of paper that you were certain had her phone number on it. Your hands were balled into fists, fingernails digging into the flesh of your palm as you restrained yourself from giving the girl a punch to the face after seeing your boyfriend take both the gift and paper without even blinking.

“Haru, I’m going home. Tell Daisuke that I took the cab once he’s finished messing around with that stupid client,” you snapped at the taupe-haired man beside you while shoving your fists into your coat and briskly walking towards the street.

“H-hey! (Name)! Are you alright?” Haru attempted to call after you, but you blocked out his voice as you hailed down a cab, refusing to think back to the exasperating scene in front of you.

Daisuke turned around as the woman left, eyes meeting with Haru’s and widening with surprise as he took note of what just happened.

“Why’d they leave?” He asked his companion, genuine confusion arising in his deep voice.

Haru groaned. “You’re so damn dense. That girl was flirting with you right in front of your significant other, you idiot!”

“Was she? I didn’t know... She just gave me a gift bag,” Daisuke muttered, his eyebrows furrowing as he processed the situation. Was that considered flirting?

“Of course she was! Are you stupid?! She gave you her damn phone number too! Did you see the blush on her face at all?? She was obviously trying to get with you!” Haru yelled, pinching the bridge of his nose in utter exasperation. 

Daisuke looked down at the slip of paper in his hands. “But I thought she was just trying to give us a form of contact in case anything else--”

“Oh for fuck’s sake... You’re the densest man in this universe. You’re denser than a fucking brick. Just go home and talk to them already!”

He sighed, walking towards Haru and shoving both the gift bag and the slip of paper into his hands before walking towards his car to head home to you.

~

You were in the kitchen, making yourself some hot chocolate to distract yourself from the stinging pain in your heart as you thought back to what happened today. It wasn’t his fault, he was too stupid to realize when anyone was trying to flirt with him. It was a surprise that he was the same someone who’s had one night stands with anyone before meeting you. 

You sighed as you heard the doors of the mansion open. Your boyfriend was home. Usually you would be greeting him with open arms and a wide smile, but you decided that you needed a break from him for tonight.

“(Name)? I’m back... where are you?” you heard him call out to you, footsteps growing louder as he walked towards the kitchen. You stayed silent, lips pressed together as you focused on stirring the pot of hot chocolate on the stove, your fingers tightening against the counter as you tensed.

You felt arms slip around your waist from behind and a chin rest on your shoulder, making you gasp faintly in surprise, but quickly you came to realization that it was none other than your boyfriend, probably still completely oblivious to the situation at hand. You refused to look back at him, leaning away from him as he attempted to kiss your cheek.

Daisuke felt his heart ache. He knew he hurt you, even if he didn’t mean to, but he was never used to you being this mad.

He moved his arms to hold you tighter, pulling you close to his chest, a pang of guilt crossing his heart as he felt you tense in his arms.

“I’m sorry, my darling,” he whispered, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You froze, your stirring ceasing as your grip on the spoon tensed, teeth worrying at your bottom lip. He was apologizing. What were you supposed to say?

Daisuke’s head rose after he heard a faint hiccup emerge from your lips. He leaned his head over to see your face from the side, and sure enough, he saw small tears leaking from your eyes as you bit down on your lip to keep the sobs at bay.

“Hey... what’s the matter, angel?” he asked you softly, moving his hands up to place them gently on your arms.

“Not now, Daisuke. Please...” you choked out, still avoiding his face as you turned off the stove, moving away from his embrace as you attempted to leave.

A hand on your wrist. You stopped, still refusing to turn around to face him. You didn’t know why you were feeling so hurt by this.

“Talk to me, (Name). Just let me know what I did so I can fix it,” he pleaded.

Your heart ripped. Now you made him feel like it was his fault. Great.

“You didn’t do anything, Daisuke,” you said tearfully, finally turning to face him.

“Then tell me what’s hurting you. I’ll make it right,” he said, his voice low and gentle as he pulled you to his chest. “I’m not going to hurt you, my dear.”

You couldn’t stop it. The tears continued to flow down your cheeks as you buried your face into his chest. Daisuke calmly stroked your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he soothingly rubbed your back.

“It’s just... I-I get scared. I see all those people who flirt with you and--” a sob shook your body and Daisuke tightened his grip on your waist as you leaned into him. “I-I know you don’t realize... that.. but--” you hiccuped, “but I’m just so scared Daisuke. I’m so scared... you’re going to find someone more deserving of you and then--” a torrent of sobs took over you, as you held him tighter, your tears wetting his dress shirt, but he didn’t care. All he could feel was the throbbing pain in his chest as he watched you come apart. He felt his heart slowly breaking in half as he watched you cry.

“You’re... you’re going to leave me...” you weeped, your fingers gripping onto the fabric of his jacket as you continued to cry out your heart.

“No...” he whispered, trying to keep his voice from breaking, but to no avail. He felt a tear fall down his cheek, but ignored it as he continued to hush your sorrow-filled sobs, fingers running gently across your back and down your arms to calm your aches and tremors.

After you had quieted down, Daisuke pulled back to wipe your tears before cupping your cheeks. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, his eyes teary as he looked at you with the most heartfelt expression you’d ever seen him with.

“You deserve more than anything in this world, sweetheart. You deserve more than everything this universe holds. I love you so, so much, my angel. And I will never leave your side. Not now, not ever. I promise you, my love. You are my everything.”

You looked up at him, breath hitching in your throat. God, you were so in love with him. How could someone be so kind, and so loving?

He took your hands into his as he lifted them to his lips, planting a kiss onto every little finger. “I love you. I love every part of you,” he murmured.

Fingers still interlaced, he let go of your other hand to pull you into a warm kiss, your troubles melting away.

Pulling back ever so slightly, he slowly peppered kisses down from your jaw to your neck, and back up to your ear, his free hand sliding around to the small of your back.

“Daisuke...” you whispered timidly, holding on tightly so that the nervous quaking of your hands wasn’t obvious.

“You went through so much today because of me...”

“N-no! It’s not your fault--”

“Hush now, my angel,” he said softly, letting go of your hand to brush back your hair with his fingers as he kissed down from your lips to your jaw once more, his hand slipping under the hem of your shirt to caress your skin. He spoke once more, his sultry voice filling your ears with a melody of love and lust.

“Let me take care of you tonight.”

// what the fuck i’m so sorry i’m taking so long to complete requests sighhh anyways i hope you like this mwah mwah

[oftenderweapons]

Papa Noël — Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 7.0k

Genre: fluff, smut, engaged rmxr, idol!AU

Rating: 18+

Hello bunnies! Merry Christmas to all of you. I wish you all the best ✨💜

I had to write this thingie because I’m selfish and I had this sort of unholy vision that told me, “you must do it”. And so I did this. 

This fic is set on Namjoon and Vixen’s first Christmas together. The two are engaged (you’ll read about that sooner or later). Unfortunately, Vixen had to attend a dinner party at which she couldn’t bring Namjoon (their relationship is still very, very private, and even her parents don’t know who she’s dating, plus they respect her privacy). Namjoon spends the night with his friends, but decides to head back home and wait for Vixen — who is unforturnately late. As soon as she arrives, he is quite eager to warm her up and let her unwrap her Christmas gift. But he’d much rather unwrap her first.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: I’ll be on the naughty list forever after writing this. Swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, DDLG dynamics/daaddy kink, dirty talking, striptease, lingerie fetish, light foot fetish, very lowkey roleplay, sex toy (glass dildo), oral fixation, masturbation (female receiving) light bondage (satin bow), spanking (with rings... ahem), thigh riding, cum play and cum eating, mentions of oral sex (male receiving), a very emotional proposal, mentions of unprotected sex (never ever ever do that unless you’re 10000% sure BOTH YOU AND YOUR PARTNER(S) ARE CLEAN)

Suggested playlist: I Just Melt - Sabrina Claudio // Short Red Silk Lingerie - Sabrina Claudio // Santa Baby - Ariana Grande, Liz Gillies // I’ll Be Home For Christmas - Demi Lovato // Wishlist - Alaina Castillo

In case you need it, here is my masterlist :)

Enjoy!!! 

————————————————

Papa Noël (French) — Santa Claus, en. [Daddy Christmas, lit.]

Namjoon sat on the sofa, his naked foot tapping against the plush carpet. For a second he considered what the actual fuck he was doing in his own living room dressed like that, making an absolute fool of himself. 

Then he remembered the party your firm had organised for Christmas Eve, and the fact that he couldn’t have attended with you. 

He hadn’t asked you to stay home, especially since your mother and father were going to attend too, and your boss and them had been friends for a very long time. 

Obediently, you had followed your father’s will, you had put on your delicious blue velvet dress and you had made sure Namjoon saw you secure the little clip of your suspender belt to your stockings. 

“I won’t be out late.” You had told him as he knelt and secured the small straps of your stilettos around your ankles. 

“I’m a bit mad you’re going to be out, all dolled up, without me.” 

“There’s a ring on my finger, Joonie.” You said. 

“A ring and no fiancé. How inconvenient,” He murmured, letting his palms climb up the back of your thighs, until they met the naked skin above the elastic band of your stockings. “Aren’t they going to ask questions?” He asked, letting his long middle finger slide against the soft satin of your panties. 

“No.” You said. “They know I’m in a relationship. They know I’ll tell them when I deem it appropriate.”

He moved his hand away from your slit, gripping your asscheeks. “Are you ashamed of me?”

“No.” You replied, dry, determined. Damn his paranoia. “You know there’s nothing I want to do more than use you as my toy boy, my future trophy husband.”

He grinned and sunk his nails into your flesh. “I’m just trying to keep you from rumors, my love.” You replied. “Not all the people in there are as discreet as I am.” You cupped his face. “And it’s not like I’m leaving you all alone.”

He nuzzled his face against your lap. “Jin and Angel are coming over at Yoongi and Kitten’s. I was invited,” Namjoon explained, taking his hands out of your skirt. 

“I’m glad I’m leaving you in good hands.” 

“It’s our first Christmas together.” He sulked.

“You’ll have me all for yourself tomorrow.” You combed his hair affectionately. “You’re lucky my family doesn’t take this Christmas thing seriously.”

“Will I get breakfast in bed?” He asked, raising to his feet and dwarfing you. 

You studied his figure with your eyes, observing his cream turtleneck that made his skin tone look like molten caramel, the expensive cashmere so soft under your palms, and then the light brown slacks, the shape of his cock so delicious that you couldn’t hold yourself back from tracing it with the tip of your index finger.

“Will I get breakfast in bed?” You asked, taunting him. 

“I don’t think it’s good for my babygirl to have her favourite candy cane first thing in the morning.” He replied, raising an eyebrow and catching your wrist. “I wouldn’t be a responsible daddy.”

“Come on, it’s Christmas.” You replied, whining a little and stretching to reach his mouth. 

He grinned as he saw you struggle, his dimple appearing as you kept pushing yourself on the tip of your toes, trying to touch his lips with yours. His nose scrunched and his eyes shrinked to heated slits as he bent his head down, allowing you access before he tightened his hands on your waist and picked you up, lifting you a few inches from the ground while you tightened your arms around his neck. 

“I’ll think about it.” He murmured on your lips. 

“Please.” You hummed quietly. 

His hand slipped down to your ass and squeezed it. “Maybe.”

You pouted and parted from him. “Then I think I might stay out late. Stay at my parents for the night. Mother always arranges beautiful brunches when I stay there. And Magdalene could enjoy me visiting her. You know, our governess. She raised me.” You said, fixing your dress and wearing your faux fur. 

“Come home. Eleven forty-five. No later.” He said, wrapping a forearm around your hips and spinning you around; you stumbled a little on your heels with the whole motion and the way he joined his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. “I’ve got gifts to deliver.” He said, parting from you and fixing your lipstick. 

“I’ll try.” You said, checking your watch and realising that probably your parents had already sent their driver to get you. 

“I have to go.” You murmured, cupping his cheek. “You know there's nothing I wanted more than spending the evening with you.”

“I know. I’ll wait for you.” He said, fixing a small lock of your hair behind your ear.

He accompanied you to the front door and opened it for you. “Have a nice evening, love.”

“You too.” You replied, completely charmed as he set you free like a delicate, gracious butterfly. 

————————————————

He started getting worried when he realised you were half an hour late. Then forty-five minutes. At midnight thirty-three, he heard some noise at the front door. 

There you were, legs wobbly, giggling at the phone. “I’m home. Yeah. Love you too. Stay warm.” You said softly, and then squealed. “No, I won’t choke on my boyfriend’s enormous dick. I’m super late. He’ll kill me.” Another pause. “No, he won’t kill me with his colossal cock. Stop talking about my fiancé’s cock, you slut!” You erupted in a bubbly laugh.

Namjoon felt his disappointment disappear, just slightly. 

“You could always go choke on Taehyung.” Pause. “Stop rubbing that on my face. I am TINY! It’s not my fault.”

Namjoon heard your snort-laugh. The one you used only with your closest people. He realised you were on the phone with Lace. He relaxed even more. “Gotta blast. Love you. Merry Christmas, you hoe.”

You giggled again as he heard you try to take off your shoes before you lost your balance, leaning on the wall. You hissed and cursed at the shoes. He heard the sound of you taking off your coat. And then you appeared, beautiful, so innocent, standing in the soft light of the Christmas Tree. 

And there he was. Sitting on the sofa. Legs parted wide. Shirtless. Barefoot. In a pair of red satin loose sweatpants with white furry hems at the ankles. And a Christmas hat. 

You swooned. 

“You’re late, little fox.” He said, pinning his forearms to his thighs and leaning forward. 

“I stayed out with Taehyung and Lace. We wanted to call you but I didn’t want to interrupt your previous arrangements.”

Namjoon licked his lips and bit his lower one, rubbing his index finger against his chin. “Jin and Angel kept making sex puns about chimneys and gifts and whatnots. Yoongi literally licked whipped cream off Kitten’s finger.” Namjoon exhaled. “It was painful. To say the least.”

You chuckled as discreetly as you could. 

“Is it funny, Vixen?” He asked, tipping his head back. “You’re forty-five minutes late.”

You sucked your lips past your teeth, lowering your head. “Tae and Lace were at the party. We left for a quick drink. We lost sense of time a little.” You said, flustered.

“I was here, waiting for you and you were out with your best friend and her boyfriend, my friend.” He said, crossing his arms and cocking his head to the side. “Are you listening?”

“Yes. Of course. I’m sorry.”

No, you weren’t. You were staring at his biceps, flexing, his chest expanding with ample breaths, his pectorals twitching. The mole on his chest. The path that it drew up the tendon of his neck, joining the other little mole near his collarbone, all the way up to the one below his plump lip. And the way his skin glimmered deliciously at the delicate lights of the Christmas Tree. You were ready to ask him a picture.

In your uterus was currently burning a blue hypergiant star. Just to clarify, 37 times hotter than the Sun. 

“You’re not listening.” He said, snickering. “I can see it.”

“I tried though.” You said shyly, pouting. 

He smiled and laid against the back of the sofa. “Come here.”

You blinked a couple times, rubbing your hand against your sternum, worried, biting your lip and playing coy. “Can I take off my dress first?”

“Of course, babygirl.” He said, propping his elbows on the pillow behind his back. 

You saw his chest stretch and oh���ed at the vision, making him giggle. “Come on, babe.”

You frowned and felt your ankles wobble as you undid the zipper at your side, bending down to lift your dress up from the lower hem, slipping it off from over your head. 

It took you a while to orient yourself on your way out of your dress, but as soon as you were free, you placed it down folding it neatly over the coffee table, where you noticed a small package wrapped in red paper and a big ribbon. 

“Is that mine?” You asked, batting your lashes at Namjoon. 

“Yes, darling.” He said, his eyes skimming your entire form. “Are you tipsy?” He asked, worried.

“A teensy, tiny bit.” You said. “Literally one glass of champagne, a spoonful of punch and a glass of wine with Tae and Lace. Nothing more.” You said, easing his nerves. He didn’t like when you drank — only because you’re a lightweight and he doesn’t want you to get sick.

He smiled softly as you listed the drinks. “It’s okay, buttercup. I’m not trying to control you. Just making sure that you can take me.” 

You bit your lower lip, nodding. 

“You look delicious, sugardoll.” He said, now finally focusing on your attire.

You smiled cutely and fixed your hair. “You like it?”

“I do, babylove.” He said. “Let me see it from up close.”

You walked closer to him, standing in between his legs. 

“Come on, give me a little twirl.” He said, placing his hand on your waist and helping you make a small, slow spin. You still had your heels on, after all. Just the way he liked it. 

“Let’s take off the big girl shoes, yes? That way you can be all tiny and barefoot for daddy.” He said, finding your wrists and placing your palms on his naked shoulders.

His skin was so hot. To the touch too. 

“Give me your foot, baby.” He said, looking up at you. 

You felt like crying. In the best way possible. 

You complied and his big fingers struggled a little with the small clasp before he managed to free it. 

The other shoe was easier. He diligently placed the stilettos out of the way, by the side of the sofa. “Next these.” He said, laying his hand on the back of your thigh and placing your foot between his legs, so close to his cock, currently laying across his lap, half mast towards his left hip. You noticed he still had a set of rings on, including the one shaped like a thick bear head, which he had bought in honour of the nickname you had assigned him.

He fought with the clip of the suspender belt, vaguely knowing that he should look for a small clasp on the upper elastic band of the stockings, but not knowing how to undo them. He still had a lot to learn, he realised. 

Your spindly fingers assisted him, showing the procedure. “There’s a rubber nub, inside. It grips the stocking and blocks it inside the metal frame, on the outside. You just need to slide the nub out of the frame.” You explained, showing him. 

He observed the movement of your fingers, the suspender strap snapping free. 

“There are other three. You can practice.” You smiled gently. 

He looked at your sweet face, at your eyes glittering in the Christmas lights. He was completely in love. Enchanted. Head over heels. 

He turned his eyes down, looking once more at the suspender strap on the other thigh, caressing your naked skin with the back of his index and middle fingers before hooking them under the fabric of your stocking, spotting a flat rubber surface. That must be the back of the nub. With his thumb, on the outer side, he spotted the nub, hooked in the small metal frame, covered in nylon. He slid it upwards and felt the strap snap. 

“Just like that, daddy.” You said, removing his hat with a smile and caressing his hair. So soft. It smelled like cedarwood, vetiver and patchouli. It smelled like safety, home, reassurance. Passion. Unconditional love. 

You led his hand to the back of your thigh and he percurred the length of the elastic strap to the hem of your stocking. 

You exhaled and closed your eyes as you felt his fingers on your nude leg. 

With the left side undone, he placed your leg down and picked up the other, laying it directly on his lap, where you felt his hardening sex under the sole of your foot. “Don’t press down, babygirl.” He said, making a quick work of the last clasp before looking up at you. 

“Good boy. Quick learner.” You said, caressing his face.

He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek into your palm. His hands flew to your waist and held you there as he scooted closer to the edge of the sofa, coincidentally pushing his cock into your foot. 

However, his focus wasn’t there. His target was your inner thigh, which he licked elegantly, suavely, before moving his mouth along you leg, gripping the hem of your left stocking with his teeth and slowly pulling at it, making the nylon roll down your leg, until it reached your calf. You lifted your leg for him, bringing your ankle and then your foot close to his mouth. He laid back against the sofa, the black sheer stocking dangling from his mouth as he stared at you and cocked an eyebrow teasingly. 

You giggled and squealed at the vision. 

“I hope my feet don’t smell.” You chuckled. 

He pouted. “You never really smell.” He said after letting the garment fall from his mouth. “Really. Your sweat never smells.” He said accompanying your leg down and picking up the other. “And I’ve made you sweat a lot. I would know.”

Again he grabbed your stocking with his teeth, tugging it harder this time, since it looked stuck to your skin. With your assistance, he pulled it all the way down, this time letting it fall straight away to place a kiss on the curve of your foot.

“You’ve got the prettiest little footsies.” He murmured. “They’re babylike. So soft. So small.”

“It’s your feet being exceedingly big. I’m medium sized.” You replied, placing both your feet on the floor.  

“Wow.” He said, staring at you. Now he had time to study the deep red silk slip you had been wearing under your dress, with its delicate white lace applications on your chest and on the lower hem. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

You giggled, embarrassed before pulling a cocky move, slipping your hands under the silk gown and hooking your thumbs into the sides of your thong, wiggling your hips as you pulled it down and bent to Namjoon’s waist, tucking the accessory into the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“Now you’re the luckiest.” You said, grinning at him mischievously. 

He simply raised his eyebrows, mouth wide, perfectly still for a couple seconds before he leaned his head to the side, looking away, his lips curling up in the smallest smile, making eye contact with you and shaking his head. 

“Don’t think I forgot you being forty-eight minutes late.” He said, leaning forward as you placed your foot on his knee, parting your legs just enough to let him sniff at your wetness. 

“But Santa, dearest, I’ve been a good girl all year.” You said, placing your foot down again and pressing your hands to your lap, bending one knee slightly and letting your body twist a little, side to side. 

You looked like the sweetest, cutest little girl in Namjoon eyes, playing coy, acting shy, feigning innocence and conquering him with all your little charms. 

“And you’ve already brought me my gift. Wouldn’t it be cruel to take it away?” You asked, furrowing your brow and pushing your lower lip forward in the most adorable expression.

“Take your gift, then, darling.”

Your face sparked up, and you turned quickly, bending over to snatch your package. 

Of course Namjoon, with predatorial reflexes, leaned forward to sink his teeth into the round curve of your ass. 

You squealed and stood quickly, a bit surprised. “Joon!”

He simply wrapped his arms around you middle and placed you across his lap, making you sit there, your bent knee offering him the magnificent curve of your hip as he began rubbing the side of your leg. 

For a moment, your eyes closed and you snuggled into his warm, strong chest. “I’m sorry, I used your lotion.”

You sniffed him and melted, rubbing the side of your face against his shoulder. 

“You’re so… mhhhh.” You moaned, speechless.

His chest rumbled with a deep, silent laugh. “You like it, babylove.”

“I love you.” You replied, looking him in the eye.

He kissed your forehead sweetly. “I know, babylove. Open you gift, princess.”

You kissed him on the cheek, his dimple making a brief apparition before you focused on the ribbon, tugging at it gently, using your nails to undo the knots. 

“It’s Lace’s doing. The package.” You said, noticing the small details she always inserted on her special orders from the atelier. You had seen her fabricate the small treasures yourself. 

Namjoon snorted in surprise. “It is.”

“Is it lingerie?” You asked, beaming up and looking at him.

“No, Vixen, open your present.” He said, slightly frustrated as you took your time. Sometimes dealing with you could be a true test of patience for him. Still, he loved you more than everything. And dealing with a brat like you required patience. His best assets in taming you were patience, brains and ruthless gentleness. The more you lost your cool, the more he became icy in his stubbornness and determination. 

Your brow creased with curiosity as you ripped off the paper. The box underneath was plain white leather, designed like a jewellery box, but more curious, especially once you spotted the double crosses on the lid. 

Could it be…?

You looked at Namjoon and lifted the lid. 

Inside, the case was covered in black silk, and right there, laying on a small pillow,  you saw the fanciest, most elaborate toy you had ever set your sight on. 

“You like it, sugardoll?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your temple, looking at your face, studying your expression and trying to read your reaction. 

“Daddy?” You asked, turning to him, tilting your head to look at him properly. 

“Yes, doll?”

“Why was there Lace’s signature package on it?”

“I had it commissioned through her. She knows the artist.” He explained. “She made the package since I’m helpless at those.”

“You had it commissioned?” You asked, eyes wide in amusement.

“For you, yes. A candy cane for my sugar doll.” He explained, moving your hair out of your face. 

“Thank you, daddy.” You replied, politely and gratefully. 

“It’s okay, my love.” He said, his hand still rubbing your outer thigh while his free palm moved to your neck, his index finger moving your chin towards him, his lips landing on yours chastely. 

“It’s really, really pretty.” You said, moving your stare back to the box. 

“It was made for my pretty girl.” He said, running his nose against your cheekbone. “Would you like to try it?” 

You nodded.

He grinned. “Then I want you over my knees, little vixen.”

Obeying, you kneeled on the floor, the sofa low just enough that Namjoon’s thighs didn’t press painfully against your belly. 

“Are your knees safe, babygirl?” He asked, turning your face towards his. 

“Yes, daddy.” You replied obediently. 

“Good girl.” He praised you, taking the case from your hands and gripping the toy in his palm. 

He tried to relax and keep his erection from becoming too much of a bother. That could and would wait.

Placing the case down, he moved the toy in front of your lips. “You know what to do, little fox.” He said. 

Just like that, without even needing his command, you lolled your tongue out, covering the glass candy cane-shaped dildo in your drool with long, wide licks. A string of saliva fell on his clothed thigh while he observed the quick work of your tongue lapping at the tip shaped just like that of an actual cock. 

“You look so lovely, my little fox.” He said, caressing your hair off your face, fixing the mother of pearl hair-comb that held back your long locks from your face, holding it with two fingers, so delicately, trying not to break it as he pushed it back into your hair. “I can only imagine how many people were drooling for you tonight.”

You looked at him while he rubbed the tip of the toy against your mouth, your lips naturally parting and wrapping around the glass, becoming even fuller and plumper. 

He could barely resist himself as he looked at you, laying there, with your wide, innocent eyes, your lashes fluttering like feathery little wings, and your mouth, so dirty and sinful and absolutely lascivious. 

He yet had to understand your pure-depraved ratio. It was something he felt but couldn’t explain. 

And most of the time it was not one, nor the other that set him off, but rather the combination and absolute divergence of the two.

You bobbed your head slightly, still staring at him, and for a second he thought ‘what if it were not a toy, what if it were another man? What if i were holding him while she took him in her mouth, and she kept her eyes on me?’

You saw his nostrils flare, his chest expand, his whole posture becoming even more magnificent. 

You pulled the toy off your mouth. You bit your lip. “What are you thinking?”

“If it was another man in your mouth.” He admitted, caressing your ass through your silk slip, the smoothness of the fabric making the weight of his hand glide freely on your lower back before he lifted up the garment, exposing the curve of your ass, your slick folds. 

He massaged your naked skin, extremely glad that he was wearing rings only on one hand.

“I don’t want that.” You said, as soon as he made eye-contact with you. 

“What, Vixen?”

“I don’t want another man. Ever.” You said, and it wasn’t a praise, it wasn’t a lure, and it wasn’t flattery. “I only want you.” You said, your hand wrapping around his ankle as it was the only part that you could hold on to, his hands busy and your palms too small for his thighs and calves. 

He rubbed your ass a couple times. “Daddy would never allow anyone else, babylove.” His hand cupped your heat, his palm laying on the seam of your butt while his middle finger found your clit easily. He felt your wetness spread over his middle finger, coating it as he drew it between your labia. “You and I have something special, little fox. It’s only ours.” He kissed the top of your head. “You trust daddy?” He asked, his expression warm as he addressed you. 

“Yes, daddy.”

“Daddy will slip his finger in now, babylove. Would you like that?”

You nodded, again, “Yes, daddy.”

Slowly he drew his middle finger inside, one knuckle at a time. 

You purred as you felt him draw out slightly and turn his wrist, his digit finding your cervix and drawing its outlines. 

“Joonie...” You murmured, opening your mouth and stretching your neck to reach the toy. 

He toyed with you, placing it before your mouth and pulling it away just as your lips skimmed the material, repeating the taunt a few times, grinning as you turned and glared at him. 

“What the— Oh! Fu—!”

You said, ready to scold him but changing your mind as he added a finger inside, Shutting your mouth mid-swear. 

He thrusted his fingers hard. “I have told you many, many times, that when you’re naked in front of me you must never, ever swear, little one.” And he punctuated each word with a crook of his fingers, adding another as he murmured, very slowly, ‘little one’. 

You whined around the dildo, frowning as you writhed over his knees. 

“What do you say, Vixen?” He said, removing the toy. 

“Sorry, daddy.”

“Good girl.” He replied. “Do you think you’re stretched out enough for your toy, babygirl?” He asked, massaging his fingers slowly and delicately inside you. 

You nodded eagerly. “I want it, please daddy.”

“Such a polite little thing.” He cooed, removing his fingers, letting them hover over your ass, while he teased the glass tip over your slit, rubbing it up and down, letting the first inch in. 

“Oh, Joon—”

“Easy, darling.” He said, rubbing his thumb against your tailbone, keeping his wet fingers off your skin, trying to keep you as clean as possible while also trying to comfort you. 

“It’s big.” You said, digging your nails into his ankle. 

“It’s not that big, Vixen.” He said caressing your spine and letting the dildo sink into your heat while you hummed, focusing on every ridge of the toy, the spiraling swirls imitating the candy cane giving you a completely new sensation. 

Namjoon bent down to place a small kiss on the mole on your asscheek, sinking his teeth around it. “You have the most incredible butt in the whole universe, little thing.” He said, placing another small kiss on it. “So damn beautiful.”

“Daddy...” You cried out once he fed all of the shaft into you, leaving only the handle to hang out. 

“Careful now, baby fox.” He said as he gave the toy a slow twist, just like he had with his wrist before, twisting the hook of the handle toward your front, letting it brush against your clit. 

“Oh my god, Joon.” You whispered. 

“Relax, baby.” He cooed, raising his upper body and bringing his forehead to your temple. Next he brought his wet fingers to your lips. 

It felt obvious for you to open your mouth and let him place his fingers on your tongue. 

“Can you taste how sweet you are, ____? How fucking sweet your cunt tastes?” He asked. You let your tongue slither and slide through every crevasse between his fingers, where your taste hid best, and then you set your target on simply sucking, making sure that his fingers came out clean, only drenched in your drool. 

“I can never part from it.” He murmured, choosing that moment to take his digits away and turn your face so his tongue could caress your lower lip and entangle with yours, trying to steal the taste of you from your mouth. 

“I’m never letting another man have your mouth. Taste your sweet, precious pussy. Feel how fucking good it feels to move inside your tiny body. My pretty doll.” He praised you and reassured you possessively, his thumb rubbing your lips. 

“Daddy?” You called innocently.

“Yes, baby.” He replied, dragging his slippery fingers against your ass seducingly. 

“Would you please spank me?” You asked, batting your eyelashes at him. 

He raised his eyebrows before he wore a lopsided smirk that made his dimple pop up. “You’d like me to?” He asked, his voice decisively happy. 

“If you want to?” You replied, crossing your arms over his thigh and laying your head there. 

“Shall we go for sixteen, babe?” He asked, considering that he wanted to simply arouse you before he moved on to his actual goal. 

“Okay.” You replied, knowing that you could do better, but acting smart and restraining yourself from wanting more, not knowing how it would feel like with the toy.

“Count them for me?” He asked, patting your head, moving your hair aside. 

You nodded obediently before he lifted his hand, your eyes shutting, waiting for him to hit you, just before you felt his hand land on you softly, his stomach moving with a silent laugh after he tricked you. 

You pouted and looked at him and just like that he delivered the first smack, making you howl, your inner muscles clenching and moving the dildo just enough for it to tickle your clit.

He kept touching your hair as his hand pressed the toy into you. 

“One.” He said, pinching your ass, inviting you to count. 

He went on blow after blow, your ass slowly losing sensitivity to the rough impact of his thick rings on your skin. He got rougher at around smack four, when usually he gave you a bit more time before actually going at it hard. Anyway, a small part of your brain, not commanded by arousal and pain, understood and related to his urgency, especially considering how long he hasn’t been acting on the rock-hard cock begging for attention inside his sweats. At hit number nine, you realised his pattern, and how religiously he was sticking to it: smaking your ass, rubbing it for ten seconds, pressing the toy back into you after your inner muscles had pushed it out with the sudden stimulation of his spanks. And repeat

From number twelve, he went all out, trying to give it to you exactly the way you want it and need it. Harsh, merciless, torturously good. 

“Sixteen,” you called, exhausted as he fixed the toy inside, your ass burning under his touch, his other hand laying on your head, caressing it like you were nothing short of his pet. 

“Are you okay, babylove?” He called, bending to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. 

“Yes, just...” You took your time. “It burns a tiny, tiny bit.” You said, trying not to worry him. 

And still he freaked out. “Okay, would you like your cooling gel? Cold pack? I tried to go easy but a—” 

“Stop worrying, big bear. I’m okay.” You said, patting his leg in a reassuring way. “But there’s something bothering me a little...”

“What is it, babe?” He asked, cupping your cheek, ready to reassure you. 

“What if instead of running away to grab my lotion, you just stayed here and used that fancy candy cane to make me cum?” You said. “I’m so close, I just need you to touch my clit a little, please, daddy!” You tried to convince him. 

Your hand stretched back, spreading over his beautiful chest and sliding down towards his crotch. 

Lovingly, he caught your hand in his, stopping it over his chest. “Anything you want, precious.”

He kept your hands trapped to his chest, keeping it still and grinning at you mischievously once you tried to slide it down toward his abs. However, the other one moved to your ass, his upper body leaning on it as he blew cold air on it. “I’m gonna twist it around,” he said, placing his hand on the handle and pulling it out just enough to turn the handle toward your ass. He brought your hand down, catching the other one too and placing them on your back, putting your wrists together, quickly grabbing the red satin ribbon you had unwrapped from your Christmas gift. 

“I’m simply going to tie it up like shoelaces, Vixen. No fancy business, I promise, but don’t tug at it. Do you understand, baby fox?”

“Yes, daddy.” You replied, staying still as you felt the delicate material against your wrists, his fingers making a quick bow out of the ribbon. 

“Is it okay, ____?” He asked, his voice telling you that it was Namjoon and not daddy talking to you. 

“Yup, all good.” You said simply. 

“Perfect. I just want you to cum as soon as possible, Vixen.” He said, getting to work between your legs. “Like this?” He asked, placing his digit at the apex of your labia, but needing your guidance in finding your clit. 

“Just a bit to the left.” You said. “My left.” You added, and he followed with microscopical movements, knowing he had found the right spot when he slid a tiny fraction downwards and you mewled his name, squealing. 

“There it is,” he said, wrapping his free hand around the handle of the dildo and thrusting with small movements inside you, making sure that you were still wet and that he didn’t hurt you. 

“Keep going with both.” You said, your brow furrowing. “I need...”

“Need to make it wet, sorry baby.” He said, moving his finger away from your clit and putting it in his mouth, tempted to slide it in with the toy, but too worried about messing up your climax. He immediately found your clit again, toying around it a little before finding the spot that made you tug at your wrists and arch your back, your hips starting to move on their own accord. 

“Like that, Vixen. Take what you need, baby.” He said, his arm a bit uncomfortable at the angle as he thrusted the toy inside you; nevertheless, he kept going, determined on seeing you come undone. 

Which happened, finally. Your mouth opened in a strangled cry before you pressed it to his clothed thigh, suppressing a scream. 

“That’s it, baby fox. Feels good?” He asked just as you writhed, trying to escape from his digit on your clit, quickly pushing you into overstimulation. 

“Too good.” You replied, turning your head to the side. “Stop, please.”

“You know the word, Vixen. ‘Stop’ ain’t getting you nowhere.” He said, feeling his dick twitch as you begged. 

“Mint.” You spoke softly into his leg, escaping his wicked ministrations. 

His hand moved away from your sensitive spot. 

“I want you.” You murmured. “I’m close, but I want to be near you.” You looked at him with your eyes barely open, your breath wild, your heartbeat wild against his leg. “Not like this.” You called, wiggling your fingers. 

He tugged the toy out, placing it on top of the ripped paper of the package not to mess the sofa, then pushed it out of the way. His fingers tugged at one of the strings, careful not to jam the knot. Soon your wrists were free and he helped you on your knees, raising your torso. 

“Easy, love.” He said, twining your fingers together as you stood up, making sure that you didn’t get dizzy by standing up too fast. 

Soon one of his hands let go of yours, his forearm wrapping behind your back and pulling you into him, making you kneel on the sofa. “Straddle my thigh, babygirl.” He said with a low, rumbling timbre. 

“Gonna mess your fancy Santa slacks.” You said, smiling confusedly. 

“We can wash them for next year.” He replied, his skin burning as your front connected with his. He pressed your hand into his, against his chest, pulling you closer as your wetness connected with his strong thigh. 

“I’m already close.” You said, nuzzling into his neck, under his jaw, kissing the small mole. 

“Really, uh?” 

“You stopped when I was on the edge, before, after the first.” You said, parting from his throat and looking for his lips with your eyes closed, your hips already rolling back and forth on him. 

“You’re a vision, babe.” He said, hitching your slip dress up, so he could look at your mound, at your hips, riding him as you ruthlessly chased your pleasure. “You were close close, uh?”

You nodded, sucking his lower lip into your mouth, his left hand sprawled over your left asscheek, gripping it and helping you ride him. 

“Yes,” you sibilated as you felt his nails sink into you. You arched your back even more, your movements turning into small circles once you felt his quadricep flex, your clit connecting fully with the satin of his trousers. “So good. I need— I love your thighs.” You said, rambling helplessly as your free hand went into his hair, tugging it gently and letting your fingers slide down, with a delicate scratch of your nails, running around his neck and jaw and touching his cheek, parting your face enough to look him in the eye, waiting a few seconds for your gaze to focus on him. 

“Mhmh,” he said, smirking, helping you quicken your pace. “I love you, babe.”

You nodded and tipped your head back, pleasure rolling down your spine, pooling at your core. 

With your throat right in front of his face, Namjoon bent forward, his lips zeroing in on the point where he could feel your pulse and focusing there, sucking and nibbling at your skin while your mouth opened in a whine that quickly turned into a thin mewl. His nails clawed at your ass, squeezing it tighter now that you were deep into your high.

He kept his mouth at your neck, a deep bruise blooming on your skin, parting from you only when he felt your hips slow down and halt. 

“It was the prettiest sound you’ve ever made on top of me.” He said, bringing your joined hands to his lips and kissing yours, his other hand letting go of you, soothing the skin he had manhandled so thoroughly. 

Your hand toyed with the messy locks of his hair before sliding down to his front, touching his skin feverishly while he hugged you to him.

You were tempted to stay in the warmth of his embrace as you kissed the skin of his pectorals. 

“I have a Christmas gift too.” You murmured, trying to untuck his face from your loose, wild hair. 

“Stay here. Ride me.” He said, his forearm flexing and squeezing you to his front. 

“Want you to open it first.” You said, nipping at his nipple, which convinced him to let you go. 

You quickly stood up and took a couple steps toward the Christmas tree, dipping your arm in and wincing as you felt the small synthetic needles prickle your arm. 

“You hid it in there?”

You looked at him and nodded, feeling for a small box with your fingers, cheering once you found it. 

You retracted your arm as quick as possible and sauntered towards him. 

“I didn’t do a nice package,” you explained, embarrassed. 

“What…?” He said as you kneeled between his parted legs. 

“We said stuff. On our trip.” You said, remembering your quick getaway. “But it was mostly you who did the talking.” You continued, looking down. “Now it’s my turn to speak.” Your eyes met his. “I’m gonna make an honest man out of you, someday.”

His lips turned into an ear-to-ear grin, 

“I’m gonna love you as much as my small body allows, and my heart will stop the day I stop loving you. I’m gonna give you a home.” You said, getting emotional as you saw a tear slide down his cheek. “And I’m gonna give you children.” You stretched to dry the small silvery droplet rolling down his face. “I’m gonna make a dad of you.” You said, parting from his face only long enough to open the small box. “But first I will introduce you to my parents.” You said. “My fun relatives and my boring ones too.” You looked at the thick dark wooden band lined in black tungsten. “All my annoying colleagues.” You arched your brows. “And the ones I like much better.” You broke down as you imagined what would come next. “I’d walk down the isle dressed in white for you.”

“Yes.” He said, not even letting you finish. “Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes, ____.” He was crying shamelessly by now, sliding down to the floor and hugging you to his chest. 

“I’d walk through hell with you. Hell would feel like heaven with you.” You said, sobbing. “And heaven would feel like hell without you. Marry me, Namjoon.”

“Yes, baby.” He said, kissing your forehead and your lips with both your faces wet with tears. “Put that damn ring on me, princess.” He said, parting from you and giving you his right hand. 

Completely excited, your hands trembled as you extracted the wide wooden band, put down the box and placed your hand under his, your forefinger and thumb sliding the ring into his finger. 

“You’re shaking, little fox.” He said, hugging you to himself, his eyes studying the ring as you disappeared into his chest, his chin propped on top of your head as his eyes perused the dark wood, protected by a thick layer of lacquer.

“I mentioned to my parents that I’d like to introduce you to them.” You said, shyly. “In January. As soon as you’re done with the shows and everything. I told them I would like to have dinner, all together.” You said, looking up at him. “We didn’t like… Choose a date or anything. I told them we could have dinner, a weekend or another.”

“I’d be honoured.” He said, smiling at you gently. 

You stared at him in silence for a couple seconds. 

He closed his eyes, steadying himself for what you were about to say, knowing that it would very likely be something completely inappropriate. That’s how you deal with stress. 

You licked your lips and giggled at his expression. You knew it so well. 

“Is it the wrong moment to say I want my fiancé to ram my stomach with his huge, thick, enormous and delicious cock?”

“You’re fucking filthy and adorable. Up,” He said, holding you by the waist as he helped you stand up and climb his body. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck and he held you up with his forearm while his hand dipped into his sweatpants. You mouthed at his jaw. “Please...” 

He groaned as he entered you slowly, making you slide down and onto him. 

“Feels perfect...” You whimpered as he held you still, breathing through his teeth. 

“It will feel even more perfect while I fuck my fiancée stupid on our bed.” He said, making his way to your room. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

“Is Santa gonna cum in my chimney?” You asked with an amused expression. 

He shook his head in disbelief and then wore a small smile. “Gonna stuff you like a stocking.” 

You squealed and giggled, “Merry Christmas, indeed.” 

[diamictite]

Catcalling

Bakugou and Deku decided to go out on a date night. With exams coming up it was hard to find time for it just to be the two of them with the exception of study dates, but even then, each were consumed in their study’s and hardly had time to glance at each other so they figure it’d be crucial to carve out time for each other outside of school and studying. Today’s date was Bakugous idea, he suggested going to a local manga store and buying a couple comics then buying cheap sushi from a convince store (that he’d never admit he would like, simply claimed that “since you like it, I guess we can get it”)

Now, Bakugou was aware that his boyfriend was pretty. He wasn’t blind and he knew others weren’t as well, but what happened, was a first for them both. Unfortunately for Deku, from the back he look fairly feminine, especially with how thicc he was 👀. The boys were on their way to a convenient store when they got distracted by another store that was selling hero merch and something happened to catch Baku’s eye. He paused as Daly continued to walk ahead of him a little

“Wait out here a minute Deku” he called as he walked into the store. He saw a figurine that he knew Deku didn’t have and knew it’d make a great birthday gift for him. Deku waited outside as was looking through some of the racks the store had with varies shirts and whatnot when he heard it; a whistle.

At first he didn’t even notice it, but then it happened a second time but he shrugged it off, thinking that whatever it was, didn’t apply to him. Then a third time. Now it was just irritating. He turned around to see two grown men standing a little farther down the sidewalk in the direction he and Bakugou had come from and noticed the two men happen to be ogling at him, looking his body up and down. He could tell they were clearly drunk and on a Wednesday morning of all days.

Deku rolled his eyes at them and turned around. He knew about catcalled from Uraraka as it happened to her frequently and she’d often complain about it. Deku witnessed it first had one day when they were out together and it nearly took everything in him not to Detroit smash the dudes head into the ground for the disgusting things he had said to her. Deku had never personally been cat called so he was a little surprised but got over it pretty quickly. He was simply ignoring them till he heard kissing and clicking noises like someone calling a stray cat to come near them.

Deku turned to once more to find that the two men were walking near him but he hardly feared them. Far from it. He knew he could take both them down before either could blink with their inebriated brains.

“Aw it’s a dude..” one of them drawled out

“Eh, who gives a shit. He’s still pretty cute from behind” the other eyes Deku up and down once more, nearly drooling.

“Fair. You got a pretty cute ass. You’d be a nice play thing” the second said as he started to reach for him. Deku was about to take both idiots down before something, more like someone, interrupted.

“Oi. Deku. The fucks going on?” Bakugou sneered at the two men as he came out of the store with a bag in hand.

“Kacchan, I was just about to ask these two lovely men, to fuck off” Deku’s smile was venomous. If looks could kill.

“Aw don’t be like that pet” the man who was previously about to reach for Deku wined as he glanced at Bakugou “we just wanted a little fun. Hey, why don’t you let us borrow your friend for a little while?” He had a disgusting smile across his face as he and his friend continued to ogle Deku

“The fuck you can-“ Baku started

“Kacchan” Deku interrupted his bf before he could start to blow up on the two asshats

“What?!” Baku snarled. Deku knew it wasn’t at him, but before Baku had a chance to bite the two men’s head off he looked at Deku who was giving him this…look, to which Bakugou immediately knew what to do.

“If you want him” Baku started and nodded at Deku “you’ll have to go through me” Baku gave a devilish smile as he wrapped his arm around Dekus waist to bring him close and promptly kissed him. Bakugou quickly turned it into a public make out session for the two men to watch. After a moment, they pull away, Deku with a bit of a dazed look but Baku quickly turns to look at the men

“If I ever see either of you again, I hope your quick on your feet” Baku sneered as little sparks popped in his hand that wasn’t holding his bf. The two men quickly stumbled away, often tripping over themselves in each other in their drunken stupor without so much as another word

“If anyone else bothers you I swear to god-“

“I can handle myself, but I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side” Deku said with love in his eyes.

The two went to the convenient store, got their cheep sushi, and went and chilled in a park reading and eating while whispering quietly to each other. This had been definitely been one of their favorite dates by far.

So… if any of y’all know me, or have gone far back enough into my blog 😅 you may know, I used to write. A lot. Well I JUST wrote this and my fiancé convinced me to post it, and I’m not personally super active in the MHA fandom but- uh, here ya go. But I’m high key a sucker for jealous/protective S/Os

[wonderlustlucas]

jack pot ; part 2 - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt You know it’s bad when you’re high as a kite and he’s still on your mind. ⇢ pairing hwang hyunjin x female reader, bang chan x female reader ⇢ word count 7.5k ⇢ genre fluff, angst (not heavy, just in a slow burn kind of way), smut ⇢ warnings (18+) drug & alcohol use, explicit sexual content (fingering & thigh riding) ⇢ summary College is a matter of working hard and playing hard. It’s an opportunity to start fresh, to grow as an individual and to blossom with those you befriend. People come and people go, leaving their mark on your life and showing you all the parts of becoming an adult. Some, however, do more than leave their mark. Some take just as much as they give. Things become complicated once they take the entirety of your love because you outright offered it to them.—college!au ; stoner!au ; friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n don’t kill me </3

⇠ part 1

three.

Student Mentor Program dinners aren’t the same without Maddie.

While she’s off in like, Panama, or something, studying treefrogs and whatnot for the semester, you get to spend almost two hours every other Wednesday night at the same restaurant, with the same people, eating the same food. You don’t even know half the kids who signed up this year, and with Maddie away and Seungmin deciding to just not show up anymore, you are beginning to think maybe you’re not cut out for the whole teamwork-planning-collaboration thing. Free Italian food is nice, but even the chicken parm is mediocre. How do you fuck up chicken parmigiana?

This is the last time you will ever bother making yourself look so formal, you tell yourself when you stop halfway up the stairs to take your heels off. Maybe it will be the last time you even bother going to the meeting, especially when fucking Dan likes to plop his ass down next to you and talk your ear off about his Mom’s dating life back at home.

When you enter your apartment, the silence is startling. Jisung is usually sprawled out on the sofa when you get home on Wednesday’s. Maybe he’s still hanging out on campus; he’s recently become a goblin for the new pho bar they built in the alumni cafeteria.

Throwing your shoes haphazardly toward the closet, you make a beeline to the kitchen, mouth watering for the pink lemonade Jisung has been so keen on making since the day you moved in. After drinking nothing but water for the past two hours, you have never been so grateful for his newfound addiction, grabbing a glass and filling it, chugging that, filling it again, and then taking steady sips. Speaking of Jisung, you jump when you hear a burst of laughter from his room. And he definitely isn’t alone.

Slowly making your way over, you hesitate before knocking on the door. “Jisung, I’m home.”

“YN!” Someone shouts. You’re not certain who.

“Come in! How was it?” This time, it’s definitely Jisung, and you suck in a deep breath before cautiously cracking open his door considering you have no idea who or what is with him.

“It was,” you stall, brows furrowing in confusion when you find him, Hyunjin, and Jeongin all huddled around his laptop, “terrible. What the hell are you guys doing?”

“Nothing,” Jisung snickers, lowering the hood of the laptop, “why was it terrible?” You pretend you don’t see Hyunjin looking terribly cute with his head tilted as he regards you.

“Food sucks. I miss Maddie and Seungmin. I don’t like people,” you grumble. Then, with a hand on your belly, “Did you get dinner?”

“My leftover wings are in the fridge. You can have them,” Jeongin offers with a smile. “Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite? I love you, thank you,” you gasp, excited at the prospect of actual good chicken. Before racing back to the kitchen, you make sure to blow him a kiss.

You don’t know why Jeongin hangs out with these nerds you call friends. As an incoming freshman, he first met Hyunjin at some soccer club recruitment event, and before you knew it, he was part of the group. You can’t understand why, considering they treat him like their slave (especially Seungmin); always asking him to do this, do that. But Jeongin is too much of an angel to argue. He’ll give a snarky reply, but then do whatever his friends ask him to. So, you try to shower him with genuine affection whenever he’s around since the others show it in peculiar ways.

You have just opened the styrofoam container when Jisung’s door opens and closes. And of course, none other than Hwang Hyunjin makes his way into the kitchen.

Hyunjin and his girlfriend broke up in August, a few days before classes started. Better yet, she broke up with him. And you have yet to know why. Since then, though, you have substantially grown closer. Against your better judgment, of course. You were hurt, yes, but summer gave you time to forget all that happened; at home, spending time with your family and friends from town, you didn’t have to worry about Hyunjin and your feelings. Changbin, maybe, but he’s studying abroad, too, and the whole friends-with-benefits thing was fun while it lasted. It’s all behind you now, and with November approaching at an alarmingly fast rate, part of you is convinced that what happened that night was just an impulsive show of hormones and weed. It’s better this way—you have your feelings better under control, and even if being around Hyunjin every day makes your heart hurt at times, you wouldn’t trade your friendship and his constant need to be close for the world.

“If you’re here to steal some wings, go away,” you grumble at him, glaring as he steps closer. He frowns. “Just one?��

“No!” You snap, smacking his hand when he reaches for one. “You try wasting two hours at one of those meetings and you would understand.”

“Maybe I will,” Hyunjin challenges, crossing his arms over his chest. Huffing loudly, you move further down the counter and finish a wing clean off the bone. “Don’t,” you deadpan, waving it at him, “I’d rather have smegma than do this anymore.” Hyunjin wrinkles his nose in disgust. “That’s – ew, YN. You’re gross.”

“Then leave me alone,” you counter, eying him scornfully, “go back to your group masturbation.”

Hyunjin lunges for the wings, but you are quick to grab them, stumbling past him and retreating back toward the refrigerator. “Stop!” You yelp when he comes after you again; this time, you duck under his arm and back against the sink. “You already had dinner!”

In one last effort, Hyunjin manages to trap you against the counter. “You’re so mean,” he whines, arms caging you in, “Jeongin wouldn’t share, either.” You desperately want to brush the ruffled strands of brown hair out of his eyes, but lucky for you, your hands are preoccupied hiding the container behind you. The fact that he even had to go and bleach his hair and dye it a light shade of brown is just another factor leading to your insanity.

“Well,” you scoff, freeing one hand to jab a finger into his chest, “it was his dinner. Maybe he didn’t want to share.” Hyunjin pouts at this, lower lip jutting out much to your dismay. His puppy eyes alone are enough to break your resolve. “Fine,” you huff, bringing the container from behind you, “just because you’re wasting my time and I want to take this dress off.”

“Why?” He asks, visibly brightening once you let him take a drumstick. “You look gorgeous,” he mumbles like it doesn’t leave you week in the knees, clean hand tugging at the skirt of the yellow sundress you wear. “Thanks,” you hum, trying to ignore his use of the hefty G word and the sincerity in his eyes, you focus on your food, “but it’s uncomfy and I’m ready for bed.”

“You’re not going to hang with us?”

“Well, if you guys were doing something fun and totally not suspicious, maybe. But my brain is fried, so no. I need sleep,” you say, licking residue hot honey sauce from your fingers, “tell Jeongin he can come snuggle.”

Hyunjin gasps, beginning to panic when you turn on your heels. “What?” He screeches, shoving the leftovers back into the fridge and following after you as you head toward your room. “Why Jeongin and not me?”

“Because Jeongin is my favorite,” you tease, pressing your back into the door because you refuse to let him be in there with you, “and naturally, next is Jisung. So you’re shit out of luck.”

Hyunjin deflates in front of you. Like, actually, full on like a balloon; shoulders sagging, chin jutting, soft eyes clouding with disappointment. “I’m kidding, Jinnie,” you giggle, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck, “you’re all special to me.” This seems to make him feel better, brown irises flickering golden and arms wrapping around your waist. “Promise?” He whispers into your hair, swaying your body with his to a silent song. Pressing your cheek to his chest, your heart seems to give a single, solid thump as you try to etch this moment into your mind forever. Maybe in another universe, you would have this dress on for something else, and the two of you are slow dancing not in the corridor of you and Jisung’s apartment, and the heavy weight on your chest was from a different overwhelming emotion.

Yeah. You definitely have your feelings under control.

“I promise.”

Jisung straight up pulls an AirPod out of your ear like a monster.

“I hate you so fucking much,” you hiss, trying to keep your voice quiet so as to not disturb the fellow bus passengers. You go to take the earbud back but he only holds it up over his head like a child. “Jisung.”

“You owe Jeongin an apology,” he replies, gesturing to the younger boy beside him who looks up from his phone with eyes widened in shock.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jisung, you don’t—”

“Shush,” Jisung interrupts Jeongin’s rushed protest, “I don’t know what you and Hyunjin did last night, but he was real weird around Jeongin for the rest of the night.”

“Again, I don’t know what you are—”

“Do you like him still?”

“YN likes Hyunjin?”

You suck in a sharp breath, unsure of who to address first; a very flabbergasted Jeongin or a very annoyed Jisung. “Please,” you snap, snatching the AirPod from his grip now that he isn’t paying attention to it, “just announce it to the whole fucking bus, why don’t you.”

“I didn’t know you liked Hyunjin…” Jeongin mutters, clearly puzzled by the revelation. “That’s because it’s a secret,” you look to Jisung with a pointed glare, “but some people don’t know how to keep their mouths shut.”

“Oh, come on YN,” Jisung scoffs, “I thought we were over this. I thought you were over this. When are you going to stop?” Nibbling on the inside of your cheek, you momentarily look away to gather your thoughts. If only it were that easy. A snap of your fingers and you miraculously would not be hopelessly in love with Hyunjin.

“I’m not,” you sigh, “I’m not going to get over him, at least anytime soon. It’s… it’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand it. Your head is too far up your ass and sometimes Minho’s ass to know what it feels like.”

Jisung frowns at this, crossing his arms over his chest because he knows you’re right. “Is this like,” Jeongin waves his hand between you, “something that’s been going on for a while?” Jisung barks out a laugh at this, and even you can’t help but crack a smile. “Yes,” Jisung chuckles, “YN has been all heart eyes for him since they met.”

“Have you told him?” Jeongin asks. Totally serious. Eyes sparkling hopefully.

“I – well, no. Not with words.”

“Hyunjin and YN had a little wink wonk night last year,” Jisung whispers like it’s some sort of secret you don’t know, jabbing Jeongin in the side with his elbow. “Yeah, and then he met what’s-her-face and forgot about it, apparently,” you grumble, slouching in your seat. “YN! How many times do I have to tell you that you left in the morning before he woke up? He was upset! You left him!”

“Then he should have talked to me about it!” You bark, shriveling in your seat when a sea of heads spin in your direction. “Instead, he went to cry to his boba bitch and get his dick sucked or something while I had to clean up Maddie’s vomit for two days.”

“YN,” Jisung deadpans, looking at you with an unamused expression. “I’m done talking about this,” you sigh, looking away once more. When you go to put your earbud back in, it’s Jeongin who stops you this time.

“YN, you two are really close. This whole time I thought it was Hyunjin who liked you. You seriously need to talk to him. Whatever happened last year was awhile ago and I’m sure it’s all just a big misunderstanding. We’re around you guys every day, and we can all see that there’s definitely something going on between you.”

“But what if he doesn’t feel the same? What if it just fucks everything up all over again? I can’t live with that kind of rejection,” you whimper, wincing when your voice cracks. Jisung takes it as his cue to wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you close. Reaching for your hand, Jeongin squeezes your knuckles. “You won’t know unless you try, right?”

“I guess,” you mumble, cheek pressed to Jisung’s shoulder, “why can’t he just make the move?”

“Well, I don’t know, YN. Maybe because you were off fucking Changbin every day?” Jisung teases, comforting arm turning into a chokehold when you go to move away. “We were not fucking every day.”

“It sure felt like it,” he snickers, finally releasing his grip when you punch him in the gut, “Binnie got a big dick or something? Were you crazy for Changbin’s chode?” You scoff, mirroring Jeongin’s own mortified expression. “I – he does not – never mind, I’m not talking about Changbin’s dick,” laughing to hide your embarrassment, you send a thanks to the heavens when the bus slows down at the first campus stop, “this conversation ends now.”

Following them out to the sidewalk, it isn’t until silence settles over you do you realize just how lucky you are to have such supportive friends, even if Jisung is a little shit about it. “Hey,” you pipe up just before you have to head in a separate direction, “thanks for listening. I appreciate you guys.”

“Does that mean you’re going to talk to him?” Jisung gasps, excited. Adjusting the straps of your bag on your shoulders and rocking on your heels, you can only offer them a shrug. “If it comes up, maybe. But it probably won’t, so I’ll just have to deal with you guys being shitty wing-men for now.”

“Hey!” They both shout in protest, but you’ve already spun around, laughing to yourself.

Jeongin’s right; things are different than how they were in May, but you are not ready to dig your own grave again. Besides, now that you’re living with Jisung, you get to spend way more time with not only Hyunjin, but all your friends. And even if you fall asleep making up cute scenarios with Hyunjin every night, you aren’t about to make things awkward all over again. So if you must suffer in the meantime, suffer you will.

four.

“What’s the point of smoking at a party if it’s just going to turn you into a slug?” Maddie whispers next to you, vaguely gesturing to Lia passed out on the recliner. Even you aren’t sure how she does it. No matter how high you may be, something about a good party only seems to heighten the experience; maybe it’s the music that now rattles your brain, maybe it’s your reputation, or maybe it’s just the combination of weed, alcohol, and friends.

“Lia can’t handle what she smokes,” you laugh, taking a sip of beer. Christ, it’s fucking nasty, but you’re not about to start with the heavy liqueur when you are only two hours in. You still have a long night ahead of you. “Weed just has a different effect on her.”

Maddie hums in agreement, whipping her head to look behind you at the sea of people when “A Thousand Years” starts playing and everyone cheers. “Jesus, what did you do without me?”

You laugh, turning to watch the crowd as well. Your university may not be big on Greek life, but the upperclassmen who rent houses as a group really know how to throw a good party. After time, though, they start to lose their appeal. They definitely can be fun, but it all depends on who you are friends with, who else is there, and what you make of it on your own. Personally, you’re not a ‘let’s dance!’ kind of gal (it’s kind of hard to dance to crazy rap songs from Meek Mill and Kendrick Lamar, anyway), preferring to chill, drinking and maybe smoking with your own friends, and that’s about it.

“I told you, I became a master at beer pong,” you grin, waggling your eyebrows at her, “we should play later.”

“Is that why everyone was saying hi to you when we came in?” Maddie gasps, connecting the dots. “Damn, girl. Ms. Popular now, aren’t you?”

“No!” You try to object, but then someone is leaning over to hug you from behind. And of course it has to be Jeon Jeongguk, of all people. So much for proving that you aren’t as ‘popular’ as she’s made you out to be.

“YN! What’s up?” The older boy shouts way too loud in your ear, chin resting on your shoulder. He winks at Maddie and she has to look away just to hide the way her cheeks bloom pink. “I’m good!” You yell back, leaning your head affectionately against his. “Are there any good drinks tonight?”

“Yes! Do you want me to get you one?” He offers, standing up but leaving a hand dangerously close to your neck. “No, thank you” you smile, tilting your head back to look at him, “I’ll check it out in a bit. Go find your friends, you look lost.” Realizing he is, in fact, lost, Jeongguk only flicks your nose before disappearing in the sea of increasingly loud students.

“Was that—”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t he—”

“Yes.”

“Christ, who are you? What did you do to YN?” Maddie fake-cries, burying her head in her palms. “Chin up, princess, your tiara is falling,” you attempt to joke but only earn an unamused glare in return. “Alright, I think it’s time for one of those drinks Mr. Jeon was talking about,” Maddie decides, standing up and tugging the hem of her skirt down. “Unless you still want to ‘vibe?’” She mimics your previous words with air-quotes.

Laughing, you chug what’s left in your cup and stand with her. “No,” you beam, “I need to find Felix and make sure he’s not dead, anyway.”

Following Maddie around the crowd ‘dancing’ in between where you were and the kitchen, you are delighted to find not only Ryujin and Chaeryeong standing around the island, but the rest of your friends, too. “You may want to check in on your roommate,” you say to Ryujin, wrapping your arms around her and resting your chin in the crook of her neck, “she’s knocked the fuck out.”

“Aw, man,” she sighs, definitely not the most sober one around either, “I told her not to smoke if she was going to drink.”

“YN, I just think it’s funny how Maddie comes and gives me a hug, yet I don’t think you’ve even said hello,” Seungmin barks at you from his stance against the sink, eyes bloodshot and frown deep. “Dude,” you laugh, making your way over to him and opening your arms wide to give him a dramatic bear hug, “please forgive me, my friend.” Swaying side to side just for the extra measure, you then pull back to cup his face in your hands. “How are you?”

“Good,” Seungmin beams, “take a sip out of Hyunjin’s cup. It’s so good.”

You step back to look at the older boy who’s too busy playing rock-paper-scissors with Felix and Jisung. “Why?”

“Trust me.”

Shrugging, you step around a shrieking Felix to snatch Hyunjin’s cup right from his hand. “Hey—”

He stops once he realizes it’s you. “Seungmin told me to,” you confess, handing it back once you’ve taken a sip. Shit, that is good. “What is that?”

“Want me to make you one?” He offers, ignoring the initial question. You nod, unable to give him a verbal answer because Felix is already yanking your hand to get your attention. “Are you high?” He asks, spinning you in a circle until you end up in the corner of the kitchen. “Yeah, a little,” you hum, watching curiously as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a chocolate bar. Leaning closer to hide it, he whispers, “Don’t have it tonight, but this is the best edible I’ve ever had. I was actually seeing different dimensions earlier.”

Laughing, you take what’s left and turn it over to inspect. Looks like chocolate. Smells like chocolate. “Alright,” grinning excitedly, you shove it into your wristlet, “thank you.” With a wide grin, he then spins on his heel to join Jeongin shouting at Jisung about something you don’t quite catch.

Smiling to Maddie across the room as Minho chats her up, you look beside you and realize with much joy you are right next to the chip bowls. Bingo. Fueled by munchies, you hop up onto the counter and dig your hand into the potato chips, listening in on Chaeryeong and Seungmin discuss what law schools they are looking into. Kudos to them for having their shit together.

“One beverage for m’lady,” Hyunjin appears next to you, proudly holding a red cup out to you. Laughing, you happily take it and take a careful sip. Definitely not as strong as his, but he can probably tell you already have a buzz. “Thank you,” you smile, finally eyeing him to see what attire he chose for the night. As discreetly and not-sexually-attracted as you can, of course.

Black button-up with a cute peach pattern tucked into black jeans and black Vans, he looks nothing short of incredible. It’s so easy for him, though; he could wear a trash bag and still look good and that really makes you angry. With soft brown hair messily parted to the side, he actually has you salivating. He’s crazy.

You definitely are not as slick with your checking-out as you thought you were, and he easily catches on. He’s tipsy, but not that tipsy. Hands coming to grip your thighs, Hyunjin pries them open just enough so he can slot in between, keeping his hands where they are. Suddenly you wish you didn’t wear jeans tonight.

“So,” he hums like he hasn’t just sent your blood pressure skyrocketing, “what did you do today?”

“I – well,” you stammer, brain actually rendered to mush as he rubs up and down your thighs, sometimes drawing way to close to the inside, sometimes brushing up to the curve of your hip. Drunk Hyunjin is always touchy, drunk Hyunjin is always touchy, you try to convince yourself. “Uh, I went shopping with Maddie and then we, um, we got milkshakes.”

“Yeah?” Hyunjin hums, completely invested in your short recall. He’s dangerous. Like, actually a danger to your life; no man should ever be equally cute as he is hot as he is sweet. Jail! “What flavor did you get?”

“Cookies and cream,” you whisper, beginning to panic now that he most certainly is leaning in closer and your brain is screaming to wrap your arms around him, “Maddie got strawberry and I got Jisung a, uh—”

“Is YN here?” Someone shouts in the middle of your sentence. Hyunjin frowns, mere inches from your face and moves his arm to slide possessively around your waist. “She’s right here,” he answers for you, turning and finding with much surprise Bang Chan twisting back around. Dear Lord. You grab your drink and guzzle half of it just to get some feeling back.

“You.” Chan beans, full dimples. He points directly at you.

“Me?”

“You.” “That would be me.”

Chan laughs heartily at this, stepping closer and Hyunjin’s fingers twitch against your side. “I need you,” Chan admits. You practically choke. “Yugyeom and Woojin think they’re the best beer pong players and I laughed in their face, so now I’ve been challenged to play vodka pong and I know with you, we can win.”

Geez, how dramatic. You wrinkle your nose at the whole vodka part, but you promised Maddie a game, so what better game to play than with the one and only Bang Chan.

“Sure,” you agree much to Hyunjin’s disappointment, “since you made it sound like such an honor. I’d be happy to.”

Grinning ear to ear, Chan waits for you to hop off the counter. “You gonna come?” You ask Hyunjin, finding his hand and giving it a squeeze. “Yeah,” he hums, seemingly annoyed and it makes you wince, “just need to get another drink and I’ll try to get everyone to come with.”

“Okay,” you smile, hoping to get one in return. And you do—except it lacks every aspect of a whole-hearted Hyunjin smile and an annoying thought bubble pops up to say that he’s jealous. Christ, if that’s the case… You can’t help but smile at the thought before releasing his hand and approaching Chan.

“I don’t think we’ve ever formally met,” he chuckles softly, hand on your back as he leads you toward the back door. “I don’t think so either,” you laugh, grateful that the mix of marijuana and alcohol in your body has left the anxiety that comes with talking to cute boys on the low, “only through Jisung and Changbin. And beer pong, I guess.”

“Definitely,” Chan laughs, nodding to Yugyeom and Woojin at the far end of the yard, “I think they were shocked when I said I was going to get you.”

“Oh, doubtful, are they?” Clinging closer to Chan, your brows raise as you near the senior and unfairly tall junior. “All bark and no bite.”

“What was that, YLN?” Yugyeom yaps, rounding up on you as if you would ever actually feel intimidated by him. “You wouldn’t switch up on your Olympics partner like that, would you?”

“Actually,” clicking your tongue, you poke him in the middle of his chest, “my Olympics partner is the whole reason we lost in the final four. So yes, I am switching up on you, unless you beat us.” Behind you, Woojin whistles, offering Chan an impressed nod. “And for you, I’ll pay double for my next order.”

“Deal,” Woojin beams, giving your hand a solid shake when you make your way over, “you win, next order is my treat.”

“Damn,” Chan frowns playfully when you return to his side, this time at your end of the table, “I guess nothing is in it for me besides my ego.” Laying your hand on his arm and giving it a comforting pat, you can’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry,” you reassure, “we’ll figure something out when the time comes.” What you mean by that, you’re not sure.

Maddie goes absolutely berserk when you and Chan both make your shots and get balls back. Felix, on the other hand, seems torn. While Woojin is his friend and weed plug, he realizes that you winning means not having to spend money for a good while. Which also means a disgruntled Woojin. When you miss your shot, you turn back to your friends who have crowded around the table, returning a thumbs-up to Jisung and Seungmin before frantically searching for Hyunjin.

You realize you are way more intoxicated than you thought when a troublesome idea pops in your head. It’s a close game, after all; two cups on your side and two on theirs. And right now, you don’t care about winning when the only thing you’re after is but a few feet away. When he manages a soft smile, just a shy quirk of his lips that has your heart doing somersaults, you really, truly think you may just confess. It’s now or never. The alcohol in your veins tells your heart and your head that you will just march right on over and kiss him, kiss him hard and kiss him long enough for him to know how you feel, and fuck, if he doesn’t understand you’ll tell him. Tell him how long you have wanted to do that and how badly you wish to do it again. How much he means to you and how you truly—

“Yes! Woojin, yes!” Yugyeom shrieks, loud enough to break you from your trance. Vodka pong. Winning. Bang Chan. He must have missed, as well as Yugyeom. But now Woojin made a cup and its one to two.

“Shit,” Chan sighs next to you, hand slipping away from your hip. It’s found its way there awhile now, you realize. “You got this,” you tell him, wincing as he downs the shot, “I’ll close my eyes. No pressure.” Covering your eyes with your hand for extra measure, it feels like an eternity goes by before something happens. And then, “Yes! Shit, YN, we got this!” Ah, shit. Now the pressure is on you. Of course, Mr. Perfect made the shot.

“Aw, man,” you huff, giving him a pained smile and rolling the cheap pong ball between your fingers. Your mind is a little fuzzy to focus on the singular cup and that alone, and your muscle coordination is certainly not at its best shape. But you think you have a good shot. You think. Sucking in a deep breath, you let the ball fly and bite your lip hard as it arches over the table, nearing the cup, hits the rim, bounces back up vertically, and… plops back into the cup.

“YN, you crazy son of a bitch!” Chan hollers, and you are momentarily blinded by joy as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you in a tight hug, spinning in a circle and ever so gently lifting you from the ground. “You did it!”

“I – bruh,” steadying yourself against him once he sets you back down, you glance between his bright smile and a sulking Woojin as he drinks from the last cup, “we won!” Laughing, you squeeze him into a second hug because fuck yeah, winning feels nice.

“Man, good game,” Woojin sighs, making his way over to you, “I think you two are the crowned champions.”

“You had us sweating though,” Chan confesses, wiping said sweaty hands on his thighs, “that was really fun.”

“Stressful, but fun,” you agree, offering Woojin a sympathetic smile. “You don’t have to give me free weed, by the way. It was just fun setting the stakes high.”

“No! A deal is a deal,” he beams, “just text me whenever, yeah?”

“Alright,” you laugh, “whatever you say.” Finding Felix in the crowd, you grin proudly at him. Free weed for all! “You’re going to use this against me forever, aren’t you?” Yugyeom pouts, appearing in front of you. “Well,” you pause, pursing your lips at him, “as long as you don’t give me a reason to, no, I won’t. You were my pong partner at some point, right?”

“Hell yeah!” Satisfied with this, Yugyeom pats your head before wandering off, probably to go drink all his worries away.

“Well,” beside you, Chan reappears with two bottles of water, “that was pretty amazing.”

“Truly,” with an appreciative smile, you take one and down half of it, “did you hear what Woojin said? ‘Crowned champions!’ We’re a great team. Truly unstoppable.”

Chuckling, he nods in agreement, leaning against the table next to you. “You’re stuck with me now, though. Anytime I’m playing, you’re playing too. That’s just how it is now.” Laughing, you nod and hum in agreement, glancing at him briefly. “You know your paparazzi aren’t going to be happy about that.”

“My what?” Chan sputters and you quickly take another sip of water to hide your smirk.

“You know,” gesturing vaguely to the boys and girls gathered in the yard you’ve noticed send envious glares your way, “your fans. I’m sure someone out there is a gold star beer pong player waiting to play with you.” Chan scoffs, pressing closer and you would be lying if you said your heart rate didn’t pick up. “But I don’t want to play with anyone else.”

“Woah,” scrambling to get your cool, you turn to him and are shocked to find just how closer he has gotten, “how many girls have you used that line on?”

“None,” Chan admits, chuckling and you desperately want to press your finger in his dimple, “but I figured since we still have to figure out my prize for winning, I would try my luck.”

“Oh,” you hum, understanding. You turn to face him fully, heat working its way up and down your body as he reciprocates the movement, stepping closer and anchoring his hand to your hip. “Did you have anything in mind?”

“A few things,” Chan whispers, other hand coming to hold your jaw, tilting your head to meet his eyes. This is when you come to your senses.

Not even ten minutes ago were you convinced you were going to confess to Hyunjin, and here you are now, with not Hyunjin. You cannot help but pull back, frantically searching for the taller boy. Beside Yugyeom, Hyunjin is definitely one of the easier people to find. Could just be your Hyunjin tunnel vision, though. But as you look all around, to the left and to the right, behind Chan and behind yourself, you cannot find him. He’s not here to remind you where your heart truly belongs.

But yet again—why would he? Why should he stick around and watch as you are mere centimeters and seconds away from kissing someone else? Perhaps a part of you thought he would fight for you. Perhaps you were wrong for ever thinking that was a possibility.

And here you are, leaving someone waiting who has succeeded in making you forget about Hyunjin for the time being. Leaving someone waiting who is hot, and not in the sex appeal, six-pack all muscles type of hot. (Well, maybe a little of that, because you have been to enough swim meets to know what Bang Chan looks like underneath all his clothes.) But hot not just physically—he’s the whole package. Sweet, humble, and nothing like most of the guys who look the way he does.

“YN?” Chan asks, brows furrowed and concern clear in his voice at your prolonged hesitance. “Sorry,” shaking your head and making a final decision, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean in closer, “I was just thinking of where else we could go.”

Chan surprises you with the force he uses to kiss you, tongue skillfully wrapping around yours and hands hurrying to press you closer. Whimpering against his mouth, you slowly but surely lose yourself in the feeling, clawing at the fabric of his shirt and aching to have him closer. It isn’t until he has you bumping against the edge of the table you were just playing pong at do you realize where you are, certainly drawing attention in the middle of the yard with Chan’s hips rolling into yours and your hands tugging at his hair.

“Chan,” you shakily pull away, taking a necessary breath and cupping his face in your palms. This close, you realize just how beautiful he is. This close, you pray this could be the start of something new. “Somewhere else?”

Chan swallows heavily, Adam’s apple bobbing as he brushes blonde hair away from his forehead. “Yes,” soft smile greatly juxtaposing to the lust that leaves his eyes heavy-lidded, he takes your hand in his and leads you back inside, “not out here.”

Wordlessly following after him, you keep close, holding onto his hand for dear life as the desire pooling in your abdomen grows the farther he takes you into the house and finally up the stairs. “Sorry,” he mutters, maneuvering around the few people waiting to get into the bathroom, “seniors typically get the best rooms.” Opening one of the last doors further down the left corridor, Chan finally releases your hand once you have entered a very tiny, very cramped bedroom.

“I mean,” you pause, scanning the room with just a full-sized bed, black desk littered with music equipment, and dresser just barely squeezed next to a small closet. “At least you have your own room.” Humming in agreement, Chan regards his room too, wincing at his unmade bed and wires tangled in a heaping mess over his desk and onto the floor. “I wasn’t expecting to have someone over, everything’s a mess, I’m—”

“Hey,” you reach for his arm, stopping him from fixing the comforter that hangs halfway off the bed, “stop worrying. This is fine, you’re fine.” Smiling softly, Chan allows you to pull him back, stopping before you and caging you between himself and the door. “Are you sure?” He whispers, tilting your head up with a finger under your chin. “Yes,” unable to fight your smile at just how sweet he is, you finally lean up and press a quick kiss to his reddened lips. “Now please, do something.”

Chan does not hesitate, hurriedly returning to your previous business; this time, not holding back. His hands skirt down your body, one curling to cup your neck as the other slides down your spine before giving your ass a good squeeze. “Shit,” you hiss, head thudding against his door when he journeys down your neck, plump lips pressing random kisses against the soft skin before sucking a dark mark above your collarbone. When his fingers fumble against the buttons of your jeans, you offer him a hand, hurriedly popping the four open and sighing happily when he gently touches your clothed core.

“Are you sure?” Chan checks one last time, forehead pressing into yours and you nearly scream. Half because what a gentleman he is but half because every nerve is begging to be sated. “Yes,” your voice comes out more as a croak, quickly kicking your shoes off by the soles and tugging your jeans down to your knees to give him extra room.

Chan wastes no time, fingers quickly disappearing beneath the waistband of your underwear and drawing a teasing line up your slit. “Chan,” you groan, squeezing his arms at the subtle touch, “please.” Chuckling at your expense, he softly circles your clit with his thumb, reveling in the way you tremble and whimper before him.

“I’ve never been so turned on playing beer pong,” Chan admits, middle finger moving to prod against your entrance, “I kept missing my shots ‘cause all I could focus on was you.”

“Fuck,” you sigh blissfully, rolling to meet the gentle sway of his finger as it reaches deep within you, “you’re going to make be blush.” Chuckling, Chan quickly adds a second finger and makes sure to grind his palm against your clit until you are a whimpering mess. “I’m so glad we won. This would not be as enjoyable if we were doing this to make up for losing.”

“For sure,” nodding frantically, a high-pitched whine escapes your lips when he moves his fingers in a come-hither motion, brushing deliciously at that sacred bundle of nerves, “this is better than winning.” Sensing your impending orgasm with the way your walls begin to flutter around him, Chan suddenly pulls his fingers from your heat and takes the overwhelming pleasure with him.

“What are you doing?” You gasp, breathless and confused as he plops down on his bed, leaning against the wall and quickly tugging you to join him. “Want you to come on my thigh,” he grins, totally not fitting for your given circumstances, but the thought is tantalizing enough to convince you. Fully stepping from your jeans and shakily sitting over one thigh, you glance back up to him and feel a fresh wave of arousal simply from how godly he looks; cheeks flushed and eyes dark. Pressing down, it isn’t until his hands find your hips and guide a subtle back-and-forth movement do you find just how amazing it feels.

“Oh, god,” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as you rock desperately over his thigh, relishing in the way the fabric of his jeans rubs against your clothed core and directly to your clit. In the midst of such a frenzy, you make out the shape of his cock tented painfully within his pants and release your grip on his shoulder to pop open the button and slide the zipper down. “Shit, YN,” Chan sighs shakily, finally receiving the same treatment as your hand tugs the waistband of his boxers down just enough to wrap your hand around him.

“God, sorry, I’m gonna come,” biting onto your lip, you try to keep the momentum stroking his cock but with one final rut against his thigh, the pressure against your clit causes the knot within you to snap. High on the intensity of your climax, it takes a few seconds for you to come back to reality, mind swimming and limbs shaking with the aftershocks of such ecstasy.

Looking up to meet his eyes, you realize your hand has gone limp by his thigh and offer a shy smile. “Sorry,” wincing, you lean forward and press a grateful kiss to his lips, “that was like, insanely amazing.”

“I’m glad,” Chan purrs, cradling your jaw and finding himself content with just kissing you for now. Until your hand finds his still very much hard cock and brushes against the tip.

“Wait,” he stops you no matter how hard it hurts him to do so, breathing shakily as he reaches for your wrist. “I hope this isn’t going to make things complicated for you.”

“What?” You laugh in disbelief, pulling back with brows raised in confusion. “What are you talking about?” Chan frowns, helping you settle comfortably on his lap like his dick isn’t standing tall and proud between you. “You were looking for someone earlier,” he says, eyes soft with sympathy, “I hope you being here with me doesn’t mess things up.”

You scoff, truly amazed at his words. Here we go again. “I – no, it doesn’t. Well, things are already complicated. Actually,” the haze of alcohol and post-orgasm bliss suddenly clearing from your mind, you move to stand up, “never mind. This was a mistake. I should go.”

“Wait,” Chan stops you, hand softly reaching yours and tugging you back. Just the sadness in his expression alone is enough to soften your resolve. “I know we’re not best friends or anything, but you just came on my thigh. You can tell me what’s wrong. I think I deserve to know.” Well… he has a point. Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you contemplate turning away and leaving. But even if it’s not his business, he has given you something special tonight. Maybe telling someone like him will help.

“You’re right,” you sigh, quietly returning to sit beside him, “I was looking for someone. I was hoping he would be there to remind me who I’m really after, but he wasn’t. And then I realized I was wasting time. And now I’m here with you.”

Chan’s hand finds yours, thumb swiping softly against your skin. “Why didn’t you go find them?”

“Well – I… it’s not like we’re dating. It’s just a stupid crush, and I was hoping maybe he somehow feels the same, and when he saw me with you, he would get jealous… I’m sorry, this makes it look like I used you,” frantic, you struggle to find the right words, “I promise I’m not. I like you, you made me forget everything and I—”

“Hey, stop,” Chan interrupts, cupping your face so you look him in the eyes, “I didn’t think that at all. I really like you and thought maybe something could happen between us, and even after I realized you were looking for someone else, I was selfish and wanted you for myself.”

“No! Stop, please,” laughing to hide your disbelief, you squeeze his hand to assure him. “I was hopeful because you made me forget about him. But I don’t think I ever will fully forget.”

“You need to tell him, then,” Chan says, “or else you’ll never be able to move on.”

“It’s not that easy. Confessing just how much you like someone is a big deal,” you point out.

“No, it’s not,” he argues, brows furrowed, “you just told me you like me. Just do that again but to the one you really feel that way for.” Sulking, you look away, focusing on his desk’s clutter. “I guess you’re right,” sighing, you rest your head against his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut, “but for right now, I’m with you. And you still didn’t get a prize for winning.”

Bellowing out a laugh, Chan snuggly wraps his arms around you. “Well, if I can help take your mind off things without ruining any relationships, I’d be happy to do so.” Smiling against your hair, his palm lays flat against your bare thigh and gives it a firm squeeze, bringing your attention to his slowly softening dick.

“That sounds like a great plan,” you agree, littering kisses over his neck before resituating yourself over his lap, “I’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.”

⇢ part 3

[djarinispunk]

Beautiful, Dirty, Rich - Loki Laufeyson Mafia AU

Chapter Two - The Meeting Place

After your brunch with your father (which also constituted as a verbal beating) you were seriously doubting your prior statement about not drinking. Sure, it would just give your dad more ammunition if you made a fool of yourself, but you were so far past the point of caring that the threat didn't bother you.

You closed the door to your apartment, resisting the urge to slide down against it and wallow in your sadness. However, the sight of Sophia's head sticking out from behind your fridge made you second guess your options.

Noticing your dejected expression, Sophia gave you a sympathetic pout, "That bad huh?"

You sighed, shrugging your coat off, taking a spot on your sofa, Sophia hot on your tail. "I don't know what was worse, when we were silent or when we were having a verbal sparring match." You rubbed your temples, "Oh! And he didn't ask about Paris once."

"I wish I could say I'm surprised, but we are talking about the same man who literally never remembers your birthday," Sophia smirked slightly, however it contorted to a grimace when she saw you narrowing your eyes at her. "Not helping, noted."

You made a noise which was somewhere between a sigh and a groan, "I hate him." you let the statement hang in the air, Sophia was used to your rants about your father at this point. Her father was in a similar position to your own, albeit further down the mafia ladder, so she understood.

"Tonight, we are going to look hot, we are going to get drunk, and we are going to get fucked. Seriously."

Sophia smiled at your words, "I like the sound of that." she paused for a second, "Is that a really a good idea though?"

"Probably not" You huffed, "I mean there's a sick part of me that wants to embarrass my father just for fun, but that means I also make an ass of myself just by association."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Sophia added, to which you gave her a side a thump with your leg.

I mean you try and steal a Basquiat painting from a Mafia wedding when your high one time.

"Whatever, I'll just have to see how it goes." you shrugged checking your phone quickly, "It's already five now.

"In that case, I'll get the wine."

By the time seven rolled around you were fairly tipsy, and you and Sophia were staring intently at yourselves in your hallway mirror. You turned in your gown, admiring the way it clung to your curves and hugged your cleavage nicely — you felt good, and looked even better.

"If there aren't any hot people there tonight, I will be taking you home." Sophia joked as she lay her head on your shoulder. You laughed, looking at the two of you in your reflection.

"I'm sure Charlie will be there, wouldn't be the first time this week you've slid into his bed."

Sophia's mouth gaped in shock before she slapped your arm, "You're a bitch. And I hate you." Her face contradicted her words as she fought back a laugh. Your laughter died when you heard your phone buzz from your clutch.

"Driver's here."

As far as Mafia's went, Asgard Industries was the one in New York with the most notoriety by far. The chain itself branched off all across America and as top secret as it was, more often than not your lifestyle would be branded across the Media as one of the most dangerous organisations in the world.

At times however, it didn't even feel like you were part of one of the most illegal chains in the world, purely due to the sheer elegance of it all.

The ballroom for tonight was no exception, high ceilings decked out in the finest decor. In your tipsy state, you kept your head facing up, staring as the dazzling light projections burst into kaleidoscopes of colour. Your mouth was agape in awe. Did it make you a bad person to love this side of the Mafia?

Probably.

You and Sophia had separated only ten minutes ago. She insisted she wanted to find her father but soon, whilst on your wander, you caught her and Charlie hand in hand, walking towards the bathroom. You fought the urge to cheer at her, but knowing it would dampen their moment you bit your tongue.

Now you were left to your own devices. You hadn't seen your father yet, thank god. You were trying to prolong that meeting for as long as possible.

You were now roaming one of the buildings corridors — flask in hand. You tried to ignore the creeping feeling of loneliness as you patrolled the marble floors. You could hear the party in the next room. You knew if you wanted you could be in there, socialising and whatnot.

So why was it that you were here, sinking to the floor in defeat as you guzzled the remainder of your vodka?

You cursed yourself for being so pathetic, you could have everything you wanted at your finger tips, so why did you feel so hollow?

Of course, it was at this point in your little pity party that you heard footsteps coming from around the corner. Despite how unladylike you appeared, you couldn't bring yourself to care, remaining slumped down against the wall like a drunk.

You didn't even open your eyes when you heard the footsteps stop in front of you.

"Do I need to call security?"

The voice, deep and clear rang in your ears. Slowly you opened your eyes. The man before you was nothing short of a Greek God; thick black hair falling in waves around his shoulder like Hades. His hair sat on a hardened face, chiselled in a way that would make even Prometheus envious.

And his eyes, you couldn't even tell what shade they're were from your position on the floor. From what you could see however, his eyes were swirls of deep emerald embedded in a lake of blue.

He was beautiful.

And you were...on the floor.

His face only hardened at your words, looking down at you he spoke, "Do you have no respect for your superiors?"

Your mouth dropped momentarily at the sheer audacity of the man. You weren't sure who he thought he was, but he sure as hell wasn't gaining any of your respect.

Pushing yourself from the floor, you stood toe to toe with the man, his steely expression never changing as you looked up at him.

"Excuse me?" you asked, bewildered at his statement.

He offered no explanation, only moved slightly to the right, separating the two of you.

He smirked briefly, the expression quickly morphing into a more unfriendly one. "You're excused."

You were left to watch as the man walked away from you, his shoes tapping against the marble as he left. You were speechless, what an asshole.

After having a few minutes to collect yourself and the shock of being talked to like dirt, you decided to try and find Sophia. That was, if her and Charlie were done with their bathroom rendezvous.

You entered the ballroom once again, eyes darting around the room in search of Sophia. It was useless, the room was packed. Defeated, you decided to cut your losses, you’d find her eventually.

“Drink, Miss?” a bartender holding a tray of champagne approached you. You nodded with a small smile, downing one flute and setting it down, before reaching for a second.

“Thank you.” you smiled, the alcohol leaving a warmth to you. The bartender, slightly unnerved by your display gave you a tight smile as they walked away.

Drink in hand, you crossed the room, sighing relief when you caught sight of Sophia and Charlie bickering at each other. Alas, some normalcy amongst the weirdness of the night. You began to make your way over to the pair when you heard your name being called form behind you. Groaning, you span on your heels.

“Dad.” you put on your fakest smile as you approached him. The two of you had unknowingly practiced this facade for years now. Act like a loving father in public, then treat you like a ghost the moment the two of you were alone.

“Hello darling” he gave you a forced smile as he embraced you in a hug, pecking your cheeks.

The man to his left said your name in greeting, holding a hand to you, “I’ve heard a lot about you dear. You’ve just come back from Paris, is that correct?”

It was rare to see him at a function, usually the higher the authority in the Mafia meant it would be too dangerous to be seen in public. Although, due to the party being for his son, you guessed he made an exception.

“Correct.” you chose to keep your answers short, you knew your place.

As old-fashioned as it was, the women of the Mafia were treated as property; you were either a trophy wife or a trophy wife in the making.

“Business or pleasure?” he asked with a snide grin, sending chills up your spine.

“Business, I was studying abroad.”

“How interesting.” all his words were slimy, the words slipping from his tongue with a certain element of venom, regardless of how mundane the conversation was. “My son has also been travelling, I’m sure he’d be delighted to meet you.”

He didn’t give you chance to respond before you saw him turn to something, beckoning them over with his hand.

And low and fucking behold. You saw who starts to walk towards him. The guy from earlier — no, the asshole from earlier.

“This is my son, Loki.”

[damnzawa]

Mirio! Mirio! Mirio! I’m so sorry bUt MiRiO with the whole childhood friend turned to lovers (I saw that you’re opened for requests and i just had to to do this sorry!)

LOVE NOTES — T. MIRIO

Note(s): I did this request wrong omg... I love Mirio and I absolutely did you and him wrong in this one AAAAA i am very sorry. Anyways please excuse my god tier humor. It's not the best.

Warning(s): A lot of cussing, some vine references, shitty writing, ooc mirio i think.

—

"Sometimes, I drown in your eyes. They're just so captivating and warm, I find myself getting lost in them. Whenever you look into mine, I get terrified. Have you noticed me staring into those eyes? If so, I'm sorry but I can't help it. I just like you so much Mirio—"

"No, no, no, no, no." You repeated as you erased the words you wrote on the paper. "This ain't it chief." You groaned while burrying your face in your palms in frustration. This won't work. If you wanna confess to Mirio, you got to say it to him face to face.

But how do you do that?

Your confidence level in this case is like Tamaki's.

In fact, when did you start liking Mirio?

You weren't sure.

You've been with Mirio almost all of your life. Being childhood friends, you guys have been attached to the hip ever since. You guys saw each other often, have the same dreams and aspirations, have the same likes and whatnot. You just clicked. Maybe it was when the teenage hormones started kicking. Or when you both were hit by a bus named puberty. You never really know. But it was a fact that you liked him. A lot.

Your feelings for Mirio wasn't entirely a secret. Hado and Tamaki knows. It was quite obvious actually. The way you looked at Mirio like he was a god or the way you admired him even from a far, it was certainly not hard to miss. Heck even Nighteye knows—and he roots for the two of you. The only one who was oblivious was Mirio.

You actually dropped hints for him. Like making him a bento, going out of your way to help him, and etc. Spoiler: he was still oblivious to your feelings for him. And now, you figured that maybe words work better for him than actions.

Now here you were, busting your ass off, making love notes for Mirio.

You plan to slip them in his locker every morning since you arrive a lot earlier than him. It was all going smoothly, the plan was set. The only problem was the actual notes.

Why?

You see, you weren't good with words. That's why you opted to show your feelings for him through actions to begin with. But since that didn't work out, you were forced to use your words and it wasn't going the way you planned it.

Maybe you'll just steal some quotes from the internet? No, he may question the sincerity and besides you like to be original. Maybe just list off the things you like about him? No, it might come off too creepy.

"It's ok, Y/n. Just be yourself! Haha... yes, yourself."

Grabbing your pen once again, you started writing the whole night.

Nevertheless, Snipe-sensei didn't appreciate you coming in late the following day.

—

"You're not a pokemon but I'll choose you any day."

The first time you dropped the note in Mirio's locker, you were sweating bullets.

What if he doesn't notice it? What if it falls from his locker and be swept away by the wind and—

No.

"Slap the negativity away, Y/n. This will all go according to plan."

"What plan?" Mirio suddenly asked from behind you. You were startled as hell. When did he arrive? Oh my fucking God. Did he see you drop the note in his locker?

Fuck.

"Nothing. Why are you here so early?" You asked, hoping it will divert the attention from you to him. Mirio studied you for a moment before giving you his signature smile.

"Oh! Did I scare you earlier? I'm sorry! I just wanted to do a dramatic entrance for once. Did it work?"

"Yeah it sure as hell did. You didn't answer my question yet though."

"I'm gonna talk to Midoriya today! I'm hoping to catch him before classes so I decided to arrive early." Ah. Must be about the work studies.

"How about you? Thinking of someone to recommend to Edgeshot?" You shook your head as an answer. Your mind was too preoccupied by Mirio lately that you haven't thought about your work studies yet.

"Can't blame you. Third years are so busy these days." He opened his locker making you bite your lips in anticipation. How will he react? You aren't ready for this yet.

Ok, Y/n. Yeet yourself out of this.

"Oh uh... gotta go Mirio! Thirteen-sensei needs me for something... haha yeah. Bye!" Mirio looked confused for a second before nodding as he watched you flee from the scene.

"Funny, I thought Thirteen-sensei has an off day today."

—

"My feelings for you are like vines. Iconic."

"Whoa! What's that Mirio?!" Nejire Hado screamed out once her eyes landes upon a familiar Gudetama sticky note in Mirio's hands.

"I've been getting these notes lately. It's weird." Once Hado pried the notes away from Mirio, she rolled her eyes at whatever the fuck you wrote on the papers. Clearly, you suck at making these. Vine references? Half of what you say on the notes are actually nonsense. Hado was surprised Mirio haven't died because of confusion yet.

"These are definitely love notes!" Hado exclaimed earning the attention of some of the people in the classroom. A few of them judged her for a bit before returning to their tasks at hand.

"How do you know?"

"Trust me, Mirio! I'm a pro at these!" And besides, I know the idiot who's been sending you these.

"Woah. Who could be sending me these?!" Oh Mirio, you big ball of sunshine. Why the fuck are you so oblivious sometimes.

—

By the end of the week, Mirio was surprised that the notes kept on coming. This one particular note caught his eye though.

"I love you bitch. I ain't never gon' stop loving you. Bitch."

He knew that vine reference really well. He smiled once he finished reading the note. Before he could stuff it in the tin can container he bought just for the notes, he noticed there was something on the back of the note.

"I'm not chickening out anymore, Mirio. Come meet me at the rooftop afterschool. See you later, gamer."

You were nervous as hell throughout the day. When did you decided to man up like that? You regret everything now. Once Mirio sees you on that rooftop, he's gonna break off the friendship between the two of you.

Oh no.

Maybe you fucked up real bad.

"Square up Kyle. You can do this." Hado encouraged you once the bell rung. "You're a bad bitch! Nothing can bring you down!" You smiled at Hado, thankful for the support as you met your fate.

Slowly walking towards the rooftop, you could feel your heart beating loudly in your chest, your anxiety levels spiking up as your mouth ran dry.

This is it. The moment of truth.

You opened the door only to be met by... no one. Or that was what you thought until Mirio popped out of nowhere once again, scaring you shitless.

"Now that was a dramatic entrance." Mirio chuckled as he faced you. "I was really worried you wouldn't show up Y/n."

Wait the fuck up.

"You knew?"

"Of course I did! Your handwriting was a dead giveaway, and you used the Gudetama sticky notes I gave you on your birthday." Oh. You forgot about that. Clearly you didn't think this one through.

"Ok. That's it for me now." You were about to chicken out once again when Mirio suddenly said something that made your heart beat even faster.

"I thought you were bae..." He started the vine reference you knew so well. Oh. Here comes rejection. "And I was right."

Wait what?

Those wasn't the right words.

"What I'm saying is I love you too. Bitch."

[can-i-stay-awake]

Flower Bouquet: Moonflowers (Seonghwa x Reader) Part 1

Warnings: Insomnia? We’re not far into that boat yet, my angels

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Slow burn

Word Count: 2k

Series Masterlist

Spring’s warm breeze caresses your cheeks as you make your way to your school. You adjust the short sleeves of your summer uniform. You quite liked it. Crisp white school blouse with the very end of the sleeves lines with the same red tartan as your skirt and black tie. Though many of the female students chose to wear white knee highs, you couldn’t be bothered to shave this week so you wore black tights. To be honest, no one actually cared whether you shaved them or not but to you, it’s a matter of confidence. For such a rich school with rich or smart students gifted with scholarships, the people there aren’t as bad as you thought they would be. Of course there are the populars and whatnot but if ignored they ignore you. It’s really not your forte, speaking with people. You can’t say you’re introverted, but there’s no one who really connects to you.

It hasn’t been long since you’ve transferred here. Being a scholarship student is hard when all people care about it your money and looks… Or so you thought. After standing up for yourself to many various people and even publicly humiliating one of the most feared bullies in school, Kang Yeosang, you are neither glorified nor bullied. Though your classmates in English particularly enjoy your company to the point where you think you should just rename yourself, “Hey, what did you get for question six?”. You’ve only made friends with Yuna, a cute little (extremely tall) bespectacled girl whose potty mouth could possibly give sailors a run for their money.

“Y/n! Do you know what happened last weekend?” Yuna’s blonde hair dances in the light summer breeze. Her loud voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What happened, Yuna? Did a goat break through your garden fence?” You reply sarcastically, linking your arms together. Her warmth gives you a little comfort.

“No, I wish. I want a pet goat. My brother’s getting married!” Yuna’s gorgeous amber eyes have drops of sunlight swimming in them and you can’t help but smile.

“Oh? Tell him I said congratulations”

“Will do. I’ll also ask if he wants a goat” She flashes a cheeky grin.

“I don’t think he wants anymore goats in the house. You’re good enough” You snicker, squeezing her arm tighter after she punches you in the arm playfully. Your feet clatter against the pavement and you two cross the polished school entrance.

For you, school is more of a place to learn rather than a place to socialise. Unlike others, who use this school as a place for their popularity to thrive, you are among those who keep their heads down and only have a select few to mingle with. You met the bubbly blonde on your first day as she showed you the way to biology, her sassy sweet dual personality humoured you and you two immediately clicked. Sadly, Yuna is more of an artistic person and you only have English together. So instead of sticking together, you are forced to part.

The low hum of the biology teacher’s voice just barely reaches you, your hands scribble at your paper like you’re trying to win a war as you frantically note everything he says down. The scent of oranges fills the classroom. In a way, it’s how you feel at home in biology. Today the teacher is going especially fast with her notes. Pain ebbs at your wrists and you let your eyes wander around the classroom. They travel to the windows, the glass pane reflecting the light of the sun, then they travel to the colourful diagrams made by other classes and they finally fell on the neat, colour coded notes of your desk mate, Park Seonghwa.

His handwriting isn’t very special, but the way the letters are spaced out makes it look mature and refined. The dark haired boy even has a blue colour scheme: azure, cobalt and cyan dotted across the page framed by drawn on silver stars.

Truth be told, both you and Seonghwa are quite shy so the only conversation you’ve actually shared this week was when he didn’t have a pencil because he let Hongjoong borrow his. But you two know each other well and even have a few inside jokes. You two tried to hold a conversation about you two signing up to tutor struggling students but Wooyoung burst in screeching about god knows what. It’s not like you to blurt random things out but before you can stop yourself, you whisper in awe.

“Wow, your notes are super neat. You could put that on study gram…”

Seonghwa’s face visibly brightens from the praise, a smile briefly on his face before returning to his textbook. You never notice the faint rings under his eyes once his stops smiling. “Oh, thanks Y/n”

You were always a little curious about Park Seonghwa, but you never realised how intriguing he is. Little things like the way he acts all cute with Hongjoong to get his attention, and how he has nearly a motherly impact on even the outcasts like Kang Yeosang by letting him keep the black raincoat he was forced to borrow when you can see from the dark haired boy’s shoes that they are a little beaten up. Of course, since he’s so organised, no one even notices the way he secretly calculates his lunch money instead of just pressing his card on the scanner. You too, are practically broke but you can afford decent shoes without worrying about the price. These little things that tend to slip other’s minds are tattooed into your eyesight, highlighted in fluorescent colours.

A few days later, once again in biology, his complexion looks seedy and tired. His skin is dull and the charismatic glow in his voice is jaded. Throughout the week, he becomes progressively more scatterbrained. Like that time in computing science when he dropped his earphones and bashed his head on the upside of his computing desk while trying to retrieve it, and the time he literally forgot his pencil case. The teachers look concerned and it’s quite evident they’ve already checked up on him only to be faced with a half assed reassuring smile.

“Jesus, Seonghwa looks like a mess… I feel bad for the poor guy.” Yuna exclaims, “He’s running for student council president but if he’s like this, he’ll faint dead away. Should I check up on him?” You two watch him practically sleepwalking to his form room, his footsteps dragging and hands rubbing at his eyes. Yuna has an eye for these things too, perhaps she’s not as attentive as you, but definitely more than most.

“Yeah, I’m thinking of doing just that. He’s a zombie.”

Two days pass and Seonghwa looks a little better after Hongjoong practically forced him to sleep, threatening to throw confetti at him which he had brought from the art room. You’ve been trying to find the right time since you can’t just go, “Oh hi, you look like shit. Are you good?” And biology seems too far away for you to communicate, but you decide to wait until then. But somehow, it’s like the gods placed the keys right in your hands and shoved you towards him when you meet him in the supermarket. You buy two packets of strawberries, one for yourself and another for Seonghwa. He smiles at you but his face is now painted over with thick coats of fatigue and the concern probably shows on your face because he stifles a yawn.

“Hey” You greet him, queuing behind him in the long ass line you wish would just move already.

“Hi, Y/n. How have you been doing?”

“Good, you?”

“Good” It’s hard to continue a conversation like this, but you stubbornly press on. Seonghwa looks tired but he’s not facing away from you either and you’ve got his full attention. “Really? You’ve been looking rough nowadays. You should take care of your health. Don’t you always nag Wooyoung, Hongjoong and Jongho about the exact same thing?”

“Oh, how do you know that?” He fakes surprise, trying to steer the topic away from him. You can’t pressure him to say he’s not fine, but you sigh.

“Yuna and Hongjoong are friends. You did hear what I said, right? Take care of your health” You nag and he pouts.

“I am, Y/n. It’s just the election is stressing me out a little.” His eyes swerve to the bottom left, an obvious lie.

“Alright, but I can help you with it. Okay? You’re a literal zombie nowadays. Even our English teacher realised that you’re not in good spirits, and she’s more oblivious and air headed than a four year old”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry for worrying you, I’ll take care of myself” He giggles, you can see the colour rising in his cheeks after a light hearted conversation. You’re not really that good with words, but if it makes him feel better, you’ll gladly do so.

The line progresses, and he lets you go first. Scanning the two boxes of strawberries and placing one in your schoolbag. You wait outside for the boy to scan various groceries and sweets and as he approaches the doorway you stop him.

“Seonghwa”

He turns around, the orange light of the evening sun blazing in his eyes. His dark hair dances in the wind.

“Take this” You hand him the box of strawberries and he’s lost for words, blushing and stammering.

It’s cute.

Very cute.

“Y/n, I r-really can’t take this! It’s yours!” He tries to hand it back to you but you firmly press the transparent container to his chest.

“Yeah, well I accidentally took two. This one’s for Yuna” You shake the bag you’re holding in your right hand. “I don’t like strawberries anyway”

His gaze is skeptical but he smiles sweetly and thanks you profusely. “Sure… Thank you so much Y/n! I’ll pay you back somehow, kay?”

“Park Seonghwa, you pay me back I break your back” You bark, but you let out a small laugh and he does too.

“Gosh, I ought to hire bodyguards” The light that Seonghwa’s eyes hold is so vibrant not even the milky way could hold a candle to the sparkles swimming in his warm gaze. “Thank you again, Y/n” He yells as he walks away from you.

“No problem, have a nice day and make sure to get some sleep” You holler back. As you make your way back home, your heart bubbles and fizzes like the drinks you see Mingi consume on a daily basis.

That night, you sleep well. No emptiness, no gaping void, no nightmares.

Just the comfort of your bed in the sea of your blankets.

It’s too bright this morning, too pretty with the flowers decorating the school entrance, too ethereal with the honey glow of the sun kissing your skin. Though it’s a little too hot, you keep a mini fan in your school bag and sunscreen to prevent anyone from dying.

“Hey, Yuna! I gave Seonghwa a box of strawberries after I met him in the grocery shop!”

“And good morning to you too” Yuna raises a brow, her eyes no longer framed by glasses but the faint outline of her contact lenses over her irises. She grins as you hand her a box. “For me?”

“For you” You smile as you two walk to school together.

“Hey! He looks better today!” You nudge her excitedly as you see the tall, handsome boy massaging red headed Hongjoong’s shoulders, exclaiming about how stiff he is. Though his energy isn’t up to 100%, you’re happy that he’s improving.

Or so you think.

“Seonghwa! Your votes are nearly taking the lead!” Yunho exclaims as they check the little website Wooyoung composed for the student council election.

“Oh? That’s nice” Yunho furrows his brow at Seonghwa’s nonchalant attitude.

“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to faint…” Yunho steadies the smaller of the two in his chair. Seonghwa giggles.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Yunho. I’ll go to the nurse’s if I’m not feeling great” He smiles, exhausted.

The brunet narrows his eyes, “Sure… I’m getting someone to check up on you, I have a meeting in the art club. Don’t move” Yunho rushes out the doorway only to meet you, on your phone checking your emails.

“Y/n, Seonghwa looks like he’s going to pass out. Could you keep an eye on him, please?”

“You don’t need to do that! I’m fine!” Seonghwa yells from the classroom but his voice is groggy, “and you definitely don’t need to do anything!” You look at Yunho, nodding and entering the classroom.

“Enjoy art club Yun-”

Thump.

You and Yunho pause to see an unconscious Seonghwa sliding sideways off of his chair and onto the floor. His hair flying to one side and his eyes fluttering shut. 

“Shit!” You dash to Seonghwa side and Yunho calls out his name. “We should get him to the nurses!”

Yunho nods and you raise his legs into Yunho’s arms until the brown haired boy stabilises his grip on Seonghwa, still knocked out. You open the doors for Yunho as he dashes to the nurses, you feel agony shoot through your heart like an arrow when you see the elder’s head lolling in Yunho’s embrace. The students around you clear a pathway, murmurs filling your ears and looks of concern covering your vision. 

The nurse, who everyone calls Minnie, puts Seonghwa in a comfortable position on entering, you realise Hongjoong already there gasping for breath. He probably caught wind of Seonghwa fainting and dashed to the office. 

“Sorry kids, only one of you can stay. It’s better not to startle Mr. Park.” Minnie’s soft voice soothes everyone’s panic. Even Hongjoong’s posture is slightly more relaxed, you've never seen him without his overly perfect stance and you're reminded that perhaps the redhead isn't as studious as he comes across. Yunho nods, rushing off to the art club, Hongjoong looks longingly over his shoulder as he leaves. 

”I’ll stay.” You announce. Nurse Minnie nods and pulls over a chair for you adjacent to Seonghwa’s freshly made bed. After opening a window and letting the breeze sway the curtains, you settle in and sit beside Seonghwa. His curls are splayed out on his pillow in such a disorganised but perfect way.

”Y/n..?” A voice deep with fatigue calls out to you and you have to restrain yourself from jumping up to the call. 

”Seonghwa...” Is all you can say as he groans and shuffles his pillows. You give him a glass of water and colour bleeds back into his face.

”Hey.” He smiles, rubbing at his eyes. 

”Is that all you can say when you've practically overworked yourself to the point of fainting?” You manage to keep your voice soft but you know he can hear the pout in your voice. ”Hwa...” Gently cupping one hand around his wrist, you see concealer on the finger he used to rub his eye with. You look back up at his face and a hint of dark circles are more evident on his porcelain face.

”I should get better concealer... Don't look at me like that, your expression looks like a cat eating a lemon, down to a cinch.” He chuckles but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. The aroma of citrus (with a hint of candy) fills the room. It reminds you of biology class and you realise the scent is coming from him. 

“What do you even do? And why does it get in the way of your sleep? Is it insomnia?” You try to coax an answer from him, but you know you can only go far. “You don’t need to tell me, but it might help to tell someone” Seonghwa grins, sinking further into his covers.

“You don’t need to worry about me” He whispers, and you see his legs adapt the fetal position.

“But I do, because you’re my friend.” 

“Am I?” Seonghwa’s dark eyes are once again all a-glimmer, his eyebrows are raised in surprise. It’s as if you’ve offered him a lifetimes supply of strawberries.

You stop yourself from doubling over and giggling, perhaps you understand why girls and boys alike look at Seonghwa the way they do. His calm and cool demeanour is alluring but those rare times where he opens up is what pulls you in. “Of course” You smile, and perhaps the blush dusted on Seonghwa cheeks isn’t a hallucination. 

“If you really want to know, I’m busy looking after my younger cousins, Jihyo and Daehyun. My siblings and parents are barely home.” 

“Seonghwa...” Concern once again bleeds into your face but the latter interjects before it settles. 

“They’re super adorable though! And well behaved! It’s nothing to worry about” But one look at the dark patches under his eyes tell you otherwise. 

“If you’re fainting due to exhaustion, it is a big deal” 

“It was super hot today though, it could have been because of that” His long fingers run through his hair and it falls perfectly back into place. You’re tempted to ask what shampoo he uses but you snap out of it. “Seonghwa. Do you want me to help?”

“Help? It’s not a big deal!” 

“If I bought Hongjoong here-“ You could see in his expression that he was awaiting Hongjoong’s nagging ever since you told him that Hongjoong and Yunho brought him here.

“No! Fine... He’ll nag my ear off” Red lips form a pout, his head drops. “He talks for so long that he ends up repeating everything he says and if you try and argue he starts all over again”

“I know. Remember when Jongho sprained his ankle playing basketball?” Hongjoong’s normally quiet and composed voice thundered throughout the hallways so loudly even the teachers dared not to intervene. 

“Exactly, I’ll die. You don’t want me to die, do you y/n?” Seonghwa looks up at you and uses the type of gaze you give teachers when you want to skip PE. He pouts even harder and when you grumble, he giggles. 

“I’m still coming over. If you’re not well rested by the time I’m finished playing with your cousin I’m moving in” Though these are jokes you usually pull with closer friends, something about your relationship with Seonghwa connects. You feel your presence calming him down and his soothing the creases on your brow. 

“I got it” He giggles and covers his mouth with his hand. ”When are you free? I'm free all week, including today”  

”Hmm, I have to help out Hongjoong with student council shit today... Is it alright if I come tomorrow?” 

”Sure! I'm positive Jihyo will enjoy some company. Daehyun is a little older and introverted, but she's tired looking after her younger sister too. We can look after them together” That’s not your plan, but you nod and smile. 

After school that next day, you wait for Seonghwa outside the gates. Unlike the cute, laid back persona he adapted in the nurse’s office the other day, his posture is perfect and his movements as elegant as a swan. It’s a facade, but a natural one that doesn’t stem from bad pasts. It’s just Seonghwa. 

You like ‘just Seonghwa’. 

”Y/n!” He waves and you wave back as his feet pick up the pace. ”Hey” He looks a little brazen, and you wonder if Hongjoong’s nagged him for returning to school beforehand.

”Hey Seonghwa! Did you stay in the nurse’s office or did you go to class yesterday? I didn’t see you leave”

”I had French. What do you think?” Seonghwa loathes his French teacher, who always makes loud noises and is way too animated and not focused enough on teaching. Seonghwa says that he seems like a nice person but he's not good enough of a teacher. You've yet to meet this man but you'd rather not if he ”has an attention span of a seven-year-old on a sugar high”. You two have some small talk until you reach his neighbourhood. ”Y/n, we need to be super careful. This isn't a good area.” He looks embarrassed and you try to wipe the anxious look on his face.

”I live pretty nearby, don’t worry. No fear! I have a death stare stronger than... I don’t know, who has really good death stare game?” 

“Medusa?” He chuckles.

“Medusa!” You giggle and you spot the tips of his ears flush. 

“I don’t have that much of an intimidating stare-“ Seonghwa is interrupted by a loud cat call in your direction, something about how your cute uniform would look cuter on the floor. “Fuck off!” He yells and the man is about to square up until you both shoot him a warning glare. You clutch the hockey stick in your hand you carry for PE and he leaves.

“I’ve never heard you curse before...” The Seonghwa you know is always poised and perfect, a gentle aura follows his wake as an ethereal glow does with an angel. He’s the one that whacks Wooyoung and San over the head with a rolled up chemistry booklet whenever they let a few foul words pass so you’d never imagine that kind of language. It was yet another side of Park Seonghwa you’ve just discovered.

“I’ve never seen you with such a face before...” You two both start laughing. He pulls out his phone and types frantically at his keyboard. Something motherly and caring lingers on his face as he picks up the phone and loving asks whom you presume is Daehyun, to be careful on the bus home.

 “Aww, what a caring brother”

Seonghwa flashes a painful smile your way. It’s one of the cutest things about him, you think. “She’s a scatterbrain. I can’t let her out of my sight! Little sisters are a handful I swear” 

You laugh at the overly exaggerated pout and huff that graces his features. 

“Oh, how’s the student council election going?” Seonghwa brushes his hair back with one hand and nervously chuckles. 

“I’m second place, but Hongjoong is pretty far ahead. I don’t actually mind very much. I just thought it would look good on my resume. Hongjoong is more the leader type, but if I’m being honest, I don’t think he wants to be elected” His eyes met yours and you admire the emotional intellect he holds to see past Hongjoong’s quiet and distant mask. He’s very extroverted when people come up to him, but whenever he’s alone you think that there’s a different world he sees through those starry eyes.

“Oh? Why so?” 

Seonghwa’s walking pace slows a little, “It’s a guess, but Hongjoong’s parents seem to pressure him a lot. His grades, to be exact. Maybe I’m wrong, and maybe he has super nice parents. But I don’t think that’s likely” His gaze is downcast and pity pangs at your heart.

“Oh no...” You look at your black polished shoes and the flutter of your skirt as the grey pavement moves along with your footfalls. 

“All families have at least something to deal with. Some problems bigger than others” The two of you exit the dark alleyway into a block of Tennant flats and he fumbles for his keys as you cross the third one. “Where are you going, Y/n?” He chuckles as you accidentally pass the red door to his house. 

“Ah! Whoops! I went to the direction of my house by mistake!” You chuckle and wait patiently for him to unlock the door. A pastel yellow chick key charm swings as the silver of his keys shine in the streetlights. ”Cute charm” 

Seonghwa blushes. ”Oh, Daehyun got matching ones for us at a school festival. It's totally unlike her too, she's kind of well... See for yourself, she's probably home by now” 

The creak of the doorway makes you want to oil it right away but you stay put. Seonghwa takes his somehow unscratched and polished shoes on the mat and you do. “Sorry, I tried to clean but it’s a bit messy” 

Pearly white sofas blessed your vision, not a single hair nor stain defacing it, the oak floor gleamed like water in the sunlight. The marble dining table sparkled, an equally clean vase where a single (artificial) pink rose sat. In baskets suspended by chains by the windows, there lay a few moonflowers nearly in bloom. The furniture isn’t very expensive, perhaps a little more than outside your budget, but the pristine perfect polishing made the place look like a palace. 

“Messy? What’s clean to you?” You gasp in astonishment as he leads you to the living room where a blonde girl and a dark haired toddler sat. 

“Hey, Daehyun. Hiya, Jihyo! How was school?” Seonghwa’s loving tone changes to a cooing, sweet one when addressing Jihyo. Jihyo runs into Seonghwa’s arms and he lifts her up, giggling. She replies with something about finger painting. 

Daehyun’s blank gaze turns to you, a hint of curiosity in her eye. She waves at you calmly and you return it. “Hey, Daehyun, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Hi, Y/n. Can I call you that?”

“You can call me anything unless it’s “lady hand me down”, I’ve heard that so many times I’m ready to go on a killing spree” You joke, and Daehyun smiles slightly. 

“Jihyo, this is Y/n. We can all play together!” Seonghwa giggles in his sing-song-y drawl. He puts her down and her brown eyes shift to you, assessing you in a little kid way before giggling. 

“Hiya! I’m Jihyo~” She lisps, her words slightly broken but adorable all the same. You coo and crouch down to give her a high five. 

“How was school, Dae?” Seonghwa turns to the middle child, who huffs in annoyance.

“They never serve the good food. If I die of food poisoning, I’m suing them. They ruined salmon for me” You expect Seonghwa to chuckle, but he looks dead serious as he rolls his white sleeves up.

“That’s abuse. Shouldn’t they give you good food so that you can learn better? What non edible junk do they give you? How bad does it taste that it ruined salmon for you?” Daehyun replies with a gagging noise and they chuckle. You stare at her for a little, Daehyun is a lot like Seonghwa. Cold exterior, warm interior. Perhaps even colder than him, but easy to thaw. 

Jihyo waddles up to you after retrieving something from her vibrant pink toy box in the corner. “Blocks?” 

“You wanna play with them, Jihyo?” Seonghwa asks, his lips are upturned in a huge dorky grin and you feel your heart melt at the sight. 

“Seonghwa, you are to rest” You order in what you hope is an authoritative tone. 

It isn’t. 

“Seonghwa, you are to rest” He mocks your high pitches tone and pinches your nose. “Heard this from Hongjoong, not from you, please!” He pouts but you, though it takes a lot of willpower, don’t give in. 

“Nope, go to bed” 

“Y/n, will I have to go to bed!?” Jihyo pouts, and you wonder if it runs in the family. 

“Not you, angel” You smile softly. 

Daehyun looks up from her chemistry textbook and sighs, “Go. To. Sleep. Seonghwa. Or. I’ll-” 

Seonghwa jolts and rushes across the room, the action reminding you of the Angry Birds slingshot animation and covers her mouth, face red and fuming. ”Daehyun, you better not blab” He squeaks and Daehyun blinks, his hand still over her mouth.

“Then sleep, dumbass. Take some rest, or else I’ll knock you out” Her muffled voice makes you laugh a little.

“Isn’t that normal sibling stuff? You know, dumb threats?”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen in seriousness, “No, I swear, she actually means it sometimes. She once put a sleeping pill in my milk, the snake” 

“I did” Daehyun’s comically monotone voice back him up, her eyes not once leaving her book.

“I should have you arrested” He jokes and she smirks, “But I shouldn’t leave a guest here alone. It’s bad manners”

“I came here so you could rest, Hwa. Please take some rest.” You tell him. Seonghwa looks troubled and he sighs. 

“I’ll still be in this room to check up on you guys. But thanks” His looks a little stressed but after you make Jihyo laugh. Perhaps it’s the wave of relief the he feels, but the atmosphere in the room brightens, the orange hue of the evening sunshine painting streaks across your faces.  

Jihyo is extremely energetic, but when she sees you try to stifle a yawn, she lets out a concerned squeak. “Are you tired? Do you want to take a nap?” She asks, and you find it amazing how such a young child can read your emotions so well. 

“I’m alright, Jihyo, angel”

“Why do you call me that?” She stutters in her cute drawl. 

“Yeah, have you seen the Biblical versions of them?” Daehyun jokes, somehow managing to hear you from her electric blue headphones.

“Well, angels are very cute. And they bring happiness to people!”

“My mommy says all I bring her is-“ Seonghwa, who you thought was asleep, suddenly sits up from the couch and coughs. Jihyo is silenced immediately. 

“Please, excuse us” The dark haired boy picks up his young cousin and leads her to the side room to your left. His expression isn’t angry, but worried. 

You have a gut feeling that perhaps Jihyo had no choice but to observe the emotions of the people surrounding her.

Daehyun’s growls under her breath. 

“Is everything alright? Y-you don’t need to tell me, I don’t mean to meddle-“

“No, it’s fine. It’s just that our Auntie isn’t very nice. Me and Seonghwa just have busy parents, but Jihyo’s mum isn’t... Fit to be a parent” Her voice his still expressionless, not a hint of pity. She sounded as if she were giving a presentation. But her fists are clenched by he side. “Poor kid. She doesn’t know that her mum’s an asshole. She just thinks it’s how people show love. She’s only been here for a month or so, so Seonghwa and I are trying to help her out”

“Family is... A sensitive subject, huh? Is there even such thing as a perfect family like in the movies?” You didn’t mean to say it out loud, but Daehyun nods.

“Nope, don’t think so”

You feel the happy, cheerful morale drop into the pit of the earth as Seonghwa and Jihyo exit the room. Seonghwa looks more shaken than the surprisingly cheerful girl holding his hand.

“Dae, you don’t mind watching her for a little bit right? Call me if you need anything” He suddenly pulls you up and takes an umbrella out of the store cupboard by the shoe rack of his doorway.

“Kay, go” Daehyun hops off of the couch to watch TV with Jihyo on the couch, cuddling her as if she were a glass ornament rather than a four year old girl.

The choir of raindrops hitting the pavement of Seonghwa’s street resonates with your footsteps. He coughs awkwardly to break the silence.

“It was weird for you, right? I’m sorry” He mutters. Green cloth shoots into the sky and spreads its wings like a butterfly. He holds the strongly viridescent coloured umbrella above your heads, inching closer in order to share.

“What? No! Never! It’s totally fine! These things happen, Seonghwa. They shouldn’t, but they do. I just hope she’s okay”

A trace of anger seeps into his deep brown pupils. “I try to tell her. To re-teach here that she’s not responsible for her mother’s behaviour, but she doesn’t get it. She think Auntie loves her”

“Oh dear” 

“Please... Don’t mention this to any-“

“No, no! I would never! But Seonghwa, you shouldn’t have the burden of unravelling Jihyo’s tangled threads. You’re tired already. You and Daehyun shouldn’t be the ones to do that”

Grief and pity washes upon him, and it trickles into his words like water from a slightly cracked glass bottle. “Dae shouldn’t, I agree. But if I don’t, who will?”

“Can’t you speak to your parents?” 

“They’re stressed and busy-“

“They’re family, Seonghwa. Their occupation doesn’t hold a candle to their own family, let alone children” Your stern voice makes him sigh, and you hold the oak handle of the umbrella with him.

“Not all families are like that, Y/n... But I can’t say my family is one of them. But should I stress them out? They don’t know my Aunt is like this. At all.” His warm hands slightly overlap with yours as he re-adjusts his grip on his umbrella. You feel heat creeping up your cheeks, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Seonghwa turn away but not fast enough to cover his pink dusted cheeks.

“Don’t you think it would be better for Jihyo if a therapist helped her out?” You feel his breath causing a ripple of movement in your hair. The sun bleeds through the cracks left by the grey clouds, but they are barely enough to let the city bask in its glory. 

“You’re right. I didn’t think about it that way. How idiotic am I?”

“You’re not” You stare him dead in the eye, the sincerity of your tone even taking you aback.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. We’re not supposed to know everything, you know? She’s only been here for a month, according to Daehyun, so it’s a lot to take in” Seonghwa’s pinky brushes against the back of palm, before positioning his hand over your own. He squeezes it.

“Thank you, Y/n. I think I really needed to hear that” 

You two go back inside. 

The choir of the rain is mixed with your footsteps and the thump of your heartbeat.

And as Seonghwa edges nearer to take his shoes off, you hear his own rapid thumps.

“Jihyo loves me so much, don’t you, cupcake?” Seonghwa cooes as she crawls onto Seonghwa lap. 

“D-Dae” She squeals, pushing Seonghwa’s head down so she can crawl over his head to get to Daehyun, who is sitting behind him. He looks betrayed and flashes a painful smile at you.

“Nah, you’re just a stepping stone to him. Isn’t he, Jihyo?” Jihyo giggles and snuggles up to Daehyun, who puts her phone aside and taps her nose.

“She’s a baby” You coo, pinching her cheeks.

“Yeah, a baby. I love babies... But this one thinks I’m a stepping stone” Seonghwa pouts playfully.  

“You both have a pouting tendency. Watch a bee doesn’t sting you on the lip” You tease and Seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“A bee would be honoured to die kissing my lips” He flips his hair in a nonchalant manner but then proceeds to cringe. “I’ve been hanging around San and Mingi for too long” 

Daehyun gags. “Never flirt with your crush like that, they’ll get so shook they’ll migrate planets” Jihyo chuckles along with everyone. “Oh, the results of the election are coming out next month, no?”

“Yeah, I kind of don’t want to win though. Too much trouble” Seonghwa ruffles Jihyo’s hair. 

“Y/n, why didn’t you run? You’re a model student, you could have won!”

Poor Seonghwa must be oblivious to the fangirls surrounding him and Hongjoong left and right. You wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Uhh, yeah no. Not my thing. I like receiving orders, not giving them. I’m not the leader type”

Seonghwa pulls a face, “Me neither. Hongjoong is though. Maybe if he stopped daydreaming once in a while, he’d realise that. Though if he doesn’t want to be a part of the Student Council, he can be leader of the Art club. The person currently running is leaving”

“Art club?” Hongjoong had never seemed like the artistic type to you. But then again, you didn’t go to the same classes as him except Maths.

“Yeah, Hongjoong is really good at art. He can do all these weird things with glass. He made that bird for me over there!” Seonghwa points to the display case beside the television, there sat a cerulean glass blue bird. It looks very well done, with the feathers etched in and the beak perfectly shaped. 

“Don’t pull my leg, really?” It looked good enough to sell for quite a lot on a website. Hongjoong could start a business. 

“Yes, really!” He laughs his signature laugh, airy and gentle, and you nearly burst. If you didn’t realise you liked Seonghwa, you sure did now. “Do you want anything to drink?” 

“Oh, no. It’s alright!” You say, but a hiccup follows. Seonghwa chuckles and gets up.

“Water it is then” He waddles into the kitchen, with Jihyo clinging to his leg. “Anything you want, Angel?” He struggles to deal with her weight. 

“C-cookies, Hwa” Seonghwa winces at the puppy eyes before him.

“Not now, angel. You need to have room for dinner” Jihyo grumbles but then points at a bunch of grapes. 

“Wow! What species of toddler is she?” You joke as she hugs a plastic bowl filled with green grapes and goes up on her tiptoes to place it on the marble table. You’ve never met such a pliant kid before and it shocks you to the core.

“An angel, aren’t you, Jihyo?” The taller of the two picks her up so she can push it further into the centre of the table. 

“Yay! Angel!” She giggles.

“Daehyun? Are you hungry?” Seonghwa turns to the blonde, she nods a simple no. 

“Should we watch a movie?” Daehyun asks. “We got that DVD set last week, didn’t we?”

“Oh, yeah! Your call, Y/n” Seonghwa flashes a charming smile at you and you fumble for words.

“S-sure! Jihyo can choose” Jihyo giggles in delight and hops to the box set as Daehyun sets it out. 

“Why is this so deep?” Seonghwa whines, trying to bat away the tears forming in his eyes. You feel your heart shattering even though he isn’t actually that affected by Piggy being killed by the rock.

“Oh no! Don’t cry, we’ll all start crying” You plead, fanning them away. You wonder why Jihyo chose something as morbid as “Lord of the Flies” but she seems rather content with the gore. 

“I won’t cry. I’ll laugh” Daehyun nudges Seonghwa playfully and Seonghwa gets up to chase her. 

“Brat!”

“Oh, boo hoo. Go cry about it”

The entire evening is spent giggling and joking. You think it’s been the best evening in your life. 

“Ah, Y/n!” 

It’s been a few weeks since Seonghwa hung out with you. Ever since then, you two have been talking to each other more often like during breaks and after school activities. Along with Hongjoong and Yunho, you two have been carrying out duties and solving problems together. 

“No, I didn’t get three for question five” You sigh and turn around, to Seonghwa, who pokes you in the cheek with the back of his pen. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t think you said that”

“I’ve been asked that too. I got 37”

“Me too!” That gave you the reassurance that you got the question right. 

“Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to have some bubble tea out in the city for lunch? Just a little thank you for looking after Jihyo again this weekend” He goes a little pink but on his face is a flirty smirk you’ve never seen before. It makes you want to sink under the table and squeal. 

“Sure, but I think I should thank you for intruding” 

“No, I should thank you for helping me out again this week” You reply. The sunlight bursting through the window paints Seonghwa’s complexion, making him look even more devilishly handsome, his dark hair threaded with locks of gold. 

“We’ll be here all day. Just say yes” He flicks at your forehead gently and you smack his shoulder. “Don’t skip PE, Y/n. Jihyo is stronger than you and she failed.” 

“Fine. And do you want me to show you real strength, Park Seonghwa?” You both laugh, and the teacher gives you two a warning glare. 

“No, I swear! Pigeons are FBI robots!” You exclaim, and Seonghwa sniggers.

“So you’re saying if I kill one pigeon’s friends and family it won’t die of depression?” Another shit eating grin forms on his face. It’s so hot you wonder why the ice in your drink hasn’t melted yet, let alone Antarctica thawing. 

“You monster” You playfully pout. A few friends have told you you’ve been hanging out with him too much because you’ve picked up his habits. 

Seonghwa bats his eyelashes, “Moi? I’m an angel”

“Sure...” Seonghwa’s eyes suddenly light up, pulsating with mischievous intent.

“Hongjoong managed to fall asleep in the changing room. Look, I took a picture” Seonghwa wheezes as he unlocks his phone and shows you a picture of the dark haired boy with his eyes fluttered shut and mouth slightly parted. 

“Jesus, no one should be allowed to look that pretty while sleeping” You blurt out in awe. The boy in front of you scoffs. 

“He was drooling, idiot. Anyhow, I’m way more charming than Hongjoong” Seonghwa tries to play it cool, raising his eyebrows and winking but you can sense the jealousy bubbling up within him.

“Jealous?” You snicker, taking a spoonful of the strawberry decorated cake. The sweetness melts in your mouth, along with the fruity tang of the strawberries. 

“No!” He laughs, a little too loudly that the cafe barista looks at him, her pretty doe eyes widened in shock. The boy then clears his throat and proceeds to continue his conversation. “I’m not jealous- Oh, hold on” Seonghwa moves in a little closer to brush off the whipped cream on the corner of you lips. The rough pads of his fingers gliding across the skin of your lips. He smoothly licks it off of his fingers and you both go red after the realisation of what he did. 

“Ah, thanks”

“No problem” He coughs awkwardly. You check the time and tell him that it’s probably a good idea that you two head back to classes. Seonghwa nods, and as you two walk down the road he gently pulls you in by the waist as a car goes by.

“Are you okay? Ugh, drivers” Seonghwa scoffs, and squeezes your waist and then releases you. 

“Hwa!” You dare say that he’s getting bolder nowadays as both of you have realised your feelings for each other. But instead of blowing the candle out directly, you’re both gently waving at the flickering flame. 

“Sorry” He giggles, and you know he doesn’t mean it. “Come to this side” He swaps places with you so that he is on the side of the road closer to cars zooming past.

“Thanks, Seonghwa”

“No problem. Oh goodness the election results are coming out in a few days and I really regret running for it now! I’m so nervous”

You squeeze his upper arm, “Relax. I’m sure you’ll do a great job even if you win. I’ll be here to help out and I’m sure Yunho and the others will be glad to as well”  Seonghwa’s eyes return to their normal, bright and sparkly sheen. 

“Really?” His voice holds the innocence of a four year old, despite his deep and elegant drawl.

“Really” 

That night, you can feel Seonghwa’s restlessness from blocks away. The silence of the night drives you up the wall and you pull out your phone. Is it the election? 

You: You awake?

You don’t expect an answer, you shouldn’t. But your face lights up at the sudden green bubble indicating that he’s online popping up immediately.

Hwa: No, I’m asleep ;p

You: Alright, well when you wake up remember that I’m cheering for you! <3

Hwa: shdufyyfipiueouriguu

You: ?

Hwa: Sorry my fongers were beingg dimb

Hwa: *Fingers

Hwa: *Being

Hwa: *Dumb

You: Lmao, go to sleep you nonce.

Hwa: Nonce? Meanie :(

You: I don’t trust people who use those weird keyboard emojis. Use your phone ones like a normal person lmao

Hwa: Hello, Childline? I would like to report a case of child abuse. This individual has called me a “nonce” and is now choosing to insult my emojis! Harry Potter and the Audacity of this Cutie 

Hwa: JHsudhsdyduyfisuyfuyfuyfuyufisu

You: Aww, thanks 😊 

Your heart accelerates. Of course, after you and Seonghwa started hanging out more, he was more flirty and bold but you’ve never seen him become flustered before. He’s called you a baby and addresses you very endearingly. But is this sleep deprived Seonghwa embarrassed? It’s adorably funny to you. 

Hwa: soodjjSOFFOJJFIJNFJJFI

Hwa: Damn it.

Hwa: I’m way too sleep deprived to play it cool

You: Should I send you an ASMR video? It helps me sleep sometimes

Hwa: Really? That would be great

Hwa: Excuse me, wait a second. Why are you awake?

You: Insomnia, ran out of pills.

Hwa: Poor thing :(

Hwa: Do you have a 24 hour pharmacy near you? I’m sure there’s one down the road and we don’t live far apart.

You: DKM STOP USING THOSE CURSED EMOJIS

You: And idk, it’s dangerous for me to walk at night. Even with my hockey stick lolol

Hwa: Where do you live? I’m coming

You: Seonghwa! No! It’s alright! I can stay awake

Hwa: Then I’ll stay awake with you <3

You: You don’t need to. 

Hwa: I would have forced you to sleep, but Joong has insomnia and I kinda get that it’s hard

Hwa: So if you can’t sleep, ping me~

You: “Ping me” lmao

You: Thank you though.

You: You do so much for me. You know that? Like, whenever I feel like shit, you’re there. 

You: Do you read my mind, Seonghwa?

Hwa: I’m glad I’m able to be here for you. At first I felt like I was had to so I could pay you back. But now it comes naturally. I don’t really click with people, but I can with you. 

Hwa: Don’t get me wrong, I’m only here because I want to be. I like taking care of you and I’m thankful you do the same. 

Hwa: Just seeing you makes me happy 

You: I feel the exact same way, Hwa.

You: You make everything so warm and happy. It’s your presence and I get along with you so well! 

You: I know you said it already, but please don’t feel indebted to take care of me, Seonghwa. I too, do it because I sincerely care about you. 

You: I love yo| 

Your fingers dash across the screen, but another sky blue text bubble makes your heart drop, the adrenaline building up in you blowing out in a sad puff. 

Hwa: I’m sorry, I’ll be right back. Getting a call.

“Seonghwa... I don’t want to do this anymore” The latter’s stomach and heart hurl up and down at the chocked voice, probably crying through the phone.

“Hongjoong? Talk to me” Seonghwa tries to keep his voice steady and attempts to clear his mind and analyse the rise and fall of his voice and the tone. He wants to see Hongjoong face to face. That’s the best way he can read people, with their expressions. But he knows that Hongjoong doesn’t dare show his face while he’s crying, a rarity.

“The... The election... It was my parents who made me do it. Seonghwa... Seonghwa I can’t do this anymore” Hongjoong sobs, his clear voice murky with sleep and sadness. Seonghwa feels his own eyes fill up but he swipes them away.

“Focus on Hongjoong” He hisses to himself mentally. 

“Hongjoong, your parents can’t dictate what you do or not. If you feel pressured and they don’t listen, you have to do something”

“I know! But what? Who’s going to help me? What if I get kicked out? My parents might still love me if I rebel, but I don’t want to take that gamble. Seonghwa... What do I do?” 

Seonghwa bites his nail. For once, Seonghwa doesn’t know what to do. It makes him feel helpless that someone is hurting, especially if that someone is a friend. Hongjoong isn’t the type of person to be very in touch with his emotions, and seeing his glass mask shatter breaks him apart too. 

“Hongjoong, you do what you think is right. And if you don’t know what is, then ask someone who knows. I’m sorry, Hongjoong, but I don’t know what to do. But you can always talk to me. I’ll always be here for you, Hongjoong” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. If they kick you out, I’ll find you a place to stay” 

Seonghwa hears Hongjoong crumpling down, “I don’t want to be abandoned” It feels like a spear through the chest hearing his torn voice. 

“I know, sweetheart. No one does. But if you feel like that’s what you have to do, you have to remember that there are people who will always accept you. I will, Yunho will, Y/n will, Wooyoung will. Forever” 

“But they’re my parents. They’re supposed to be here for me!”

“Joong...”

“Can’t I ever please them?”

“I’m sorry, Hongjoong, I don’t think I can answer that” Seonghwa whimpers quietly, trying to reply tactfully. 

“Seonghwa, I need to go. I hear footsteps-“

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa groans as the jingle of the phone cut sound effect goes off. Blinking back his tears, he opens the chatroom you two share, now blurred lines of black and white and blue bubbles. 

Hwa: Sorry.

You: It’s okay.

Something feels off in the discreet way that he types. Seonghwa is quiet but he’s not a man of few words when opened up to. 

You: Are you okay?

Hwa: Yeah.

Hwa: Why?

You: Are you sure? Instinct.

Hwa: Lol that’s sharp

You: Do you want to talk about it?

Hwa: There’s nothing wrong, dove. I’m just tired.

You: Try get a glass of warm milk.

You: You can talk to me if you feel crappy, okay? Whenever you need it.

Hwa: Thank you, Y/n. But I think that I can only take you up on that offer when it’s my issue to talk about, I don’t think I can tell you this time. 

Hwa: We started giving Jihyo therapy, by the way. 

Hwa: So thank you, for everything you’ve done.

You: Alright, I understand. But if you need help with anything, you don’t have to tell me who it is, but maybe I can help.

Hwa: Thanks, but I’ll try to figure this one out on my own <3 

Hwa: Hey, I think I should try and sleep. 

Hwa: Goodnight, cutie

You: Goodnight, Hwa 

“Congratulations, Hongjoong! You won!!!” Yunho claps the smaller man on the back, who then flinches. Seonghwa looks concerned and pulls Hongjoong into his chest for a brief moment, quickly enough to allow a window of time to brush tears away.

“Thanks, guys!” He giggles, and a dazzling smile blinds everyone in the room. “I’ll do my best to impress all of you, so don’t abandon me!” He laughs at his little joke and so does everyone else. But Seonghwa is not laughing. 

“Tough luck, Hwa! It was so close!” You pat his shoulder, and he grins at you. 

“I’m free from burden, what’s this about?” He chuckles, his baritone voice a sweet melody. The sunlight is dim and the shades of the afternoon haze are bright and pastel blues. 

“Really?”  The smile on his lips seems forced, not reaching his eyes as per usual. Heat from the atmosphere scorches you and the rising tension in the room doesn’t cool it down either.

“Yeah”

You leave it at that. 

As you’re about to ask him if Jihyo needs babysitting, Hongjoong clasps onto the dark haired boy’s sleeve. “Can we talk?” You hear the short man’s voice and how it dangerously wobbles. 

“Sure” Seonghwa turns away and you don’t fail to notice the comforting hand around Hongjoong’s shoulder. 

“Hwa?” You’re surprised by two hands suddenly picking you up and lifting you to the air, an uncharacteristic squeal emerging from a pair of cherry red lips. “Are you okay?” You giggle, warm at the small laughs from the other. 

“Yeah! More than okay!” Seonghwa sighs and puts you down. “Sorry, I got too excited. It’s just that... I’m happy for a friend” Seonghwa would normally blush and lifting you up and perhaps even apologise for doing so but there’s something occupying his brain that makes him steer away from even you. 

“That’s great! I’m so proud of Hongjoong” You smile sweetly, the golden-orange hues of sunlight framing your face, Seonghwa looks a little taken aback. 

“You- you knew?” 

“I knew who it was, not what was going on” You correct him and Seonghwa looks admiringly at you.

“Are you psychic? You know everything about other people...” The gleaming stars in his eyes become more dim and melt into the sea of his eyes like cubes of sugar.

“Well... I’m observant?” 

Seonghwa nods. Like him, you’re in a world of your own but so alive and free in the real world too. It’s too beautiful too block out, so you walk along the fine line of the little flower filled bubble with Seonghwa and the world of the classrooms with the scent of vanilla and sunshine. 

“Hmm, Y/n...”

“Yeah?”

“Are you free this Saturday?” He hums, fiddling with a lock of black silky hair that keeps falling in his face.

“Yeah...” You reach up and pin back his hair with a pretty hairpin, decorated with a tiny plastic moonflower. The way Seonghwa’s cheeks become pink remind you of the purple hue of potassium permanganate bleeding into the water in the biology demonstration the teacher showed you.

With Seonghwa.

You realise you do a lot of things with Seonghwa.

You ate with him many many times (With Hongjoong and Yunho tagging along at times. You went to concert with Daehyun, Jihyo and him last month. The tickets decorate your wall, covered in doodles of little flowers. You helped him with his speeches for his election, often staying after school to fan him off and correct his grammar as his mental health spiralled downwards. 

It makes you feel all warm and butterflies gather, spreading their wings and flying about your body in a flurry of heartfelt affection. You look at him again, his eyes no longer tainted with dark circles and replaced with a rosy blush. 

You can’t beat around the bush anymore, or else it will grow into a forest. A forest where Seonghwa may no longer roam in.

“It’s going to be Saturday” You tell yourself as you thread baby blue ribbons into your hair, matching the light blue frock and pale yellowish white oversized cardigan. Blue butterflies adorn your ears as they hang down on silver earrings.

“It’s going to be today”

You’re surprised you haven’t passed away yet from the sheer beauty of Park Seonghwa. His blue silk blue blouse hangs down to reveal a little bit of his slightly bronze chest and you want to target the mole on it with a kiss attack. He gasps softly and pings your hanging earring. “We’re matching” 

The silk of his shirt and the blue of your dress are very similar in hue, and you make a sound of realisation. “Woah we are” Seonghwa chuckles and taps your nose. 

“On Saturdays, we wear blue” And he yelps as you gently smack him on the shoulder.

“Don’t clown Gretchen like that, she’s my baby” You nag him as you practically inhale the piece of cake no longer on your plate. You tried to by dainty at first but you thought of future dates and thought it would be alright if you loosened up before tightening them. 

Seonghwa chuckles shyly. “I really like this cafe, you know. It’s pretty” His eyes wander the cafe, scanning the blue walls and little artificial moonflowers in baskets. 

“Yeah! And the cake is amazing. Doesn’t Yunho work here?” You laugh. 

“Mhmm, he loves the aesthetic of it too. It’s partially why he wears so many of those clips” His lips suddenly part into an “o” shape. “Oh! I forgot to give you the clip!” Seonghwa pulls out the pretty moonflower hairpin, looking even smaller in his large hand. As you’re about to reach out for it he swipes it out of your reach, a little grin playing on his face. “Hold still, Y/n” And you feel his fingers swipe through your hair along with the metal of the clip. “You look better in it than I do. Daehyun bullied me about it all night” He pulls a face and you chuckle. 

As you two walk out of the cafe and into the park behind it, you see the hues of sunset bleeding into the horizon. You sift through your phone as you wait for Seonghwa to come back from the bathroom. 

“Boo!” 

“SWEET JESUS” You yelp and you’re about to smack him in the chest but you see the pink wrapping of the florist beside the cafe. He gently places them in your hands. White moonflowers pop out and the calming husky scent makes you sigh.

“Hehe, scared you” He ruffles your hair and you look into his eyes. You expect the mischievous glint in his eyes but they are replaced with a warm loving stare. The light of the sun flickers in his eyes and the breeze kisses your skin. 

“Hwa?”

“Y/n, hear me out” He goes a little pink, playing with a strand of his hair.

“I really like you. A lot. I mean, I love you. It’s- I don’t know why. It’s not because you’re just so beautiful and adorable- which you are! I’m not denying it! But you’re so... Thoughtful and sincere. And I was thinking that maybe you could be my girlfriend?” His voice is deeper but laced with awkward tension. You look at his face, growing redder at the second and you smile. 

“Me too”

“Pardon?!”

“I love you too” 

“R-really? You’re not just saying that-“ Seonghwa excitedly grasps your hands in his. 

“Yes, really. Hwa, I really respect how you’re so caring and kind. With Jihyo, Daehyun and Hongjoong. You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met”

Seonghwa’s eyes shine, perhaps with happy tears or the light of shimmering sky.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yep” 

Seonghwa tries to lean in and pinches your cheeks, “Pucker up”

“I can’t stop smiling”

The dark haired boy doubles down with laughter before squishing your cheeks, “Better?”

“Better” You say, but it comes out muffled. 

His lips gently brush against yours, his hand doesn’t leave your face and you gently lace your fingers through his dark locks and he sighs into the kiss, leaning further into you and supporting your figure against the wall behind you. 

“You know why I gave you moonflowers?”

“Why?”

“The clip, it was really pretty” He taps it, re-adjusting it and planting a kiss on your forehead. “But moonflowers are my favourite too, so I thought they would look prettier with you holding them” He giggles a little bit at the cheesy words. “I love you”

“I love you too, Seonghwa” You capture his lips in another kiss. 

[stellar-imagines]

SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝swap issues.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Bakugou Katsuki ]

「Bakugou and you were arguing when you’re both hit with a villain quirk that caused you to change bodies with one another. Unfortunately for you, or rather Bakugou, you’re about to get your period.」

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

An argument with Bakugou wasn't that rare. Given his temper and behavior, it was no surprise that you'd eventually get into a fight. He's pissed over something, no surprise there. You weren't sure what it was all about but seeing him all angry in the alleyway, hidden from everyone, made you wince. The loud explosion sounding off and his screams of anger. You were certain that you'd be deaf the moment you stepped into the room. This act was making him look like a bad guy and you were having none of it. As his girlfriend, you knew about him the best. He's misunderstood and actually has good intentions, it's just that he loses his temper a bit too fast.

Calming him down was like defusing a bomb. You cut off the wrong wire, then you're fucking screwed. It was just shortly after you both finished up a job. However, the two of you were in separate divisions and you had no clue to what triggered him. So you did your own research, asking a few people about what happened out there in the field. You didn't remember the full detail but hearing Midoriya's name was more than enough. The two were rivals with completely different personalities and to be honest, Bakugou always makes things a competition. The moment you approached him, he was already aware of your presence.

"Come on now, are you really that pissed?" you asked casually. Bakugou looked up, narrowing his eyes at you. He was still dressed in his hero costume, minus the gauntlets and neck brace. 

"Take a hint, dumbass. Do I look like I'm happy?" he voiced out his thoughts without thinking it through and that actually threw your off. You had expected him to click his tongue, tell you to find your own business like he normally does. You weren't sure how to respond to that.

"You're both on the same side! Instead of getting pissed over how he arrived at the scene, you should be glad that no one got hurt. What the press said about " you told him, watching as he dropped the towel and turned to glare at you.

"You don't fucking understand what it's like! Don't act like you know everything. You don't have to lie to me face about it to make me feel better." his voice was slightly raised and you could easily tell that he didn't like that you were taking this matter too lightly.

"I'm not acting like I know everything. I'm not lying to make you feel better either. I'm just telling you that—"

"Just fucking stop there, I don't want to hear you pitying me." Bakugou was pissed and it wasn't hard to tell. His voice grows louder and louder up to the point where he was going to explode. If you took the wrong step he will surely blow up. His hands were balled into tight fists, his quirk threatening to go off.

"When in the hell have I been pitying you!?"

"Shut up! Get off my back!" an explosion went off.

"You telling me to be quiet? Fine, I can't even deal with you right now." you huffed at him. It was really uncalled for. You try to help and he just blew up in your face. The two of you were oblivious to the shadow slowly approaching the two of you and kept on arguing. The silhouette was an unfamiliar one and you both noticed it when they spoke. 

"Two Pro Heroes, fighting in the middle of the day is quite amusing and that shows that you're both very careless and incompetent!" Neither of you were quick enough to avoid the blast that emitted from from the palm of the villain's hand. You were able to shield your eyes from the bright light. 

It felt odd. All you could say that it didn't hurt like you expected it too. Your muscles were tense the entire time and they relaxed when the light faded, your wrists felt heavy and your head hurt a bit. When the pain dissipated, you were in shock. In front of you was your body. You looked at your hands, which were Bakugou's and suddenly the weight on your wrists made a lot of sense. 

"What do you mean we fucking switched bodies!?" 

"Calm down, [First Name]-san—Kacchan!" Midoriya shrunk back in fear, clearly intimidated by the angry look on your face.

"Oi! Don't yell so loud, Katsuki!" you scolded your boyfriend.

"Calm down you two. Until you're both back in your own bodies, you have the day off." Aizawa who happened to be the one in charge of leading the attack came after hearing that you and Bakugou ran into the villain. Without any problem, the other heroes managed to capture the villain who was the reason behind the predicament you're in. 

As much as it annoyed the two of you, neither of you were going to be able to properly work like this. And maybe, a break was just what the two needed. The two of you needed a chance to rekindle your relationship after all. Bakugou was annoyed but he knew that yelling and complaining about it wouldn't do anything. He also didn't want to recreate the same atmosphere as the day before. It surprised you how civilised and calm your boyfriend was behaving. You both sat on the couch, the silence being your company.

"You're surprisingly calm despite being in a sucky situation." you spoke.

"Whining and complaining won't change a damn thing." he grumbled.

"I wished you realized that sooner instead of getting angry at me." you sighed out loud. It was like he was punched in the gut. It wasn't hard to tell that you were referring to what happened yesterday. You didn't want to appear petty but you just couldn't help it. His words hurt you and you were upset. You didn't want to cry over something so ridiculous. However, remembering the way he yelled at you made your heart hurt.

"Hey." he moved a bit closer to you. All that aside, hearing him talk to you in your voice just sounds so damn weird.

"I admit that I made a mistake. You don't need to start crying."

"I'm not crying or anything."

"Yeah right. Something's in your eye right?" he said. You found yourself smiling a bit as he mimicked the remark that you often used. Maybe it was because you felt happy that Bakugou actually tried to apologize. Sure he didn't state 'I'm sorry.' but it's close enough. You rubbed your eyes, relieved that you weren't tearing up.

"I know that this sucks right now but we're gonna get through this hell together." Bakugou said, leaning on you.

"Yeah, you're right. We're gonna get through it."

"That's the fucking spirit."

"Actually, there's one problem. It should be mine but now that you're well.....in my body, you're the one dealing with the problem." you rubbed the back of your neck. Bakugou rose an eyebrow, clearly not really worried like you were.

"What? Fucking perverts stalking your ass or something?"

"No.....it's nothing like that." you laughed nervously.

Bakugou had expected something really serious. Did you have some sort of injury that you had been hiding from him? A secret? Had you been circulating drugs illegally? No, you’re stupid but you’re not retarded. When he was dragged into the room and being handed a few things that looked like painkillers, heating pads and whatnot, all he could wander what the fuck are all these for. Now, he was standing in the store at the feminine hygiene aisle looking at ten different brands of sanitary pads.

"I wish I had a boyfriend like him!" Bakugou heard a girl gush. 

"He looks like he knows his shit and he’s handsome too." the other said before walking away from the aisle. It fed his ego since it was his body that the girls were checking out. You, who's in his body, was oblivious to the comments that girls were saying.

"So this one is a bit thick but overall soft and it gives you the feeling—"

"It looks the fucking same to me just buy whatever you fucking get!" Bakugou snapped, rolling his eyes.

"I guess the mood swings are in full swing." you said, trying to hold in your laughter. It was supposed to be an unintentional pun and when you realized it, you couldn't help but laugh. Bakugou let out a noise that was akin to annoyance, clearly unamused with your humour.

"All I want is the shit that can help with this pain! It feels like a persistent diarrhoea that I can't fucking get rid off!" Bakugou complained while you tossed in a few items into the basket before heading to the counter to checkout. After purchasing the items, you both headed back home. And the the entire time, Bakugou complained about the pain and the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. He lost all motivation to even move and decided that the couch was his new bed.

"How are you feeling now?" you asked.

"Like I've been hit by a bus, and kicked by a kangaroo. I just want to fucking sleep." Bakugou grumbled, hugging a pillow close to his stomach.

"You want some cuddles?"

"Are you kidding me? How are cuddles gonna make this feel better?" he questioned as he made space for you.

"Just trust me. I've done this with you so many times." A small laugh escaped your lips as you laid down with him, wrapping your arms around his body and pulling him closer.

"Fuck that actually feels so comfortable."

You smiled gently, letting your boyfriend cuddle you on the couch. The silence between you didn’t last long and much to your surprise, Bakugou broke it. He gazed up at you with a face devoid of emotion.

“I’m feeling horny.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Blame your period, now I’m the fucking mood. Do something about it.”

Total: 1662 words Published: 13.12.2019

Thank you for requesting! *｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و*｡ It’s been a month since we last posted something and that’s because we’re really busy with studies uwu I have a test tomorrow that I have NOT studied for and honestly, I’m just really bad at studying :’) Anyways, we’re sorry to make you wait so long. So, uh, funny thing, I’m actually on my period right now. Any of you experiencing KILLER CRAMPS!?  Some of my friends are lucky enough to not have cramps. ― author Hibiki/Lou

Thank you for requesting! College is killing me and I just hope it finishes me off. Lou who has 3 assignments to do over the break has no time to be typing anything. We both have Christmas break but Lou has assignments while I have reports and analysis to do. So it’s not really a break. We hope you like it and we’re so sorry to make you wait, anon. ― author Natsuki

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

[elisaphoenix13]

Irresistible Desire

The bar was loud tonight. Quill was out with some work buddies and they were all still wearing their station shirts which had attracted quite a few women to their table in the first hour they were there. A couple of the guys ended up with a lady in their laps but still laughed when Quill turned every single one away watching them leave with a pout. It was what brought up the next question from Wolfe.

"How come we haven't met your boy toy yet?"

Quill huffs. "Because you call him my boy toy."

"Am I wrong?" Wolfe cackles and Quill throws a wadded up napkin at him. "What?! You're always mooning over him and telling us how pretty he is. Have you ever heard the phrase 'Love is blind'?"

Smith points to Wolfe as he looks at Quill. "He has a point. He could be ugly for all we know."

"Smith, even a straight playboy like you would be jealous." Quill smirks and takes a swig of his beer.

The guys laugh when Smith scoffs something along the lines of 'fat chance' and they order another round of beers as they laugh amongst themselves. The subject changed from Quill's spouse to embarrassing stories that the celestial unfortunately had one or two of already, one of them the others didn't consider embarrassing though. They had the garage open while working on the trucks when a couple of girls came by asking for help with their car. They had a flat tire so Quill offered his help and lifted the car to place the jack…

"...and his shirt rips clean off!" Sanchez recounts the story loudly to the girls and other patrons that stood around their table. "Quill ended up tossing the shirt and helping these chicks with their car, and they were drooling the entire time!"

"Okay asshole," Quill starts. "How about when you stuck a metal fork in the toaster?! I'm awful in the kitchen and even I know not to do that!"

Sanchez blushes. "I watched you burn water!"

"At least I own up to my faults." Quill grins.

"I'm just glad you have one." Wolfe says.

Quill laughs and takes another swig of his beer, stopping when he looks across the room at the bar. Directly in his line of sight was an ass perfectly clad in jeans that hugged every bit of said ass and legs, and Quill set his bottle down with a smug grin. The figure was bent over the bar with a beer bottle in hand, and everything out on display for Quill's viewing pleasure. Smith had noticed his change of focus and followed his gaze to the figure at the bar before looking back at the god with a raised brow.

"Uh...Quill? What happened to being happily married?"

"I can still look." Quill smiles and sits up a little before calling out, "Hey baby, did you sit in sugar? Because you got a sweet ass!"

Everyone at the table looks at Quill in bewilderment when he starts using terrible pick up lines, and Smith hits his arm. He says something about how he was taking his looking too far, but the god ignored him and smiled when the figure didn't even turn. Fine, he would play this game.

"Are you butt dialing? Because I swear that ass is calling!" Quill calls again and snickers when the figure finally straightens.

"What the fuck Quill!" Sanchez hisses.

"Relax. It's harmless flirting." Quill says with a wave to his friend.

By now everyone was watching curiously.

"Hey baby, as long as I have a face, you'll have a place to sit!" Quill says loudly and half the people around him groan.

But it did the trick. The figure turned to look at him and honey gold eyes settled on the firefighter before the man grabbed his beer and slowly made his way over. Once the focus of Quill's attention and catcalling stops at their table, the celestial gives him a lopsided smile.

"How about you take a seat? My lap's open." Quill says, ignoring the judgemental look he's getting from Wolfe as the man smiles and rounds the table to slide into his lap.

"Will you stop with the awful pick up lines now?" The man asks.

Quill sighs dramatically and wraps a muscle thick arm around his waist. "I guess."

He picks up his beer and takes another swig as his fellow firefighters gape at him. When Wolfe dives for the god's cell phone, Quill doesn't even try to stop him.

"This is uncool. I'm calling your boy."

Quill shrugs. "Fine. See if I care."

Wolfe scowls and unlocks Quill's phone and looks through it, finally finding Scott's number and hitting the call button. A few moments later, the man reaches back into his back pocket after lifting his hips and pulls out his phone. He turns the screen toward the table to show Quill's contact photo showing as his phone rings, and Wolfe ends the call as he and everyone else gape. It had Scott and Quill bursting into hysterics.

When Quill finally calmed down enough, he motioned toward the younger male in his lap. "Guys, this is Scott, my better half. Scott, those three are my work buddies. Everyone else is just good company."

"Damn, you really are pretty for a guy." Smith finally says.

Sanchez studies Scott. "You look pretty young. What are you? Twenty-five?"

"Add ten years." Scott says with a smile and drinks some of his own beer.

"What the hell?! What's your secret?!" Sanchez gawks.

"Sex." Scott answers casually and Quill chokes on his next swig of beer.

It wasn't a lot, but Quill never expected Scott to admit it so bluntly. While his husband was definitely the bearer of their combined remaining shame, saying that was a surprise. It was usually Quill before getting hit by Scott for sharing. He supposed he was becoming a bad influence on him.

The other firefighters only laughed and fell into easy conversation, Scott of course telling even more embarrassing stories about Quill that happened at home. One was about their newest family member. Quill was wondering in the back of his mind who was keeping an eye on him, and he figured it was probably Cassie. Flynn couldn't be left alone by himself, otherwise they would come home to a trashed floor as well as a screaming fox.

There were already plenty of stories with Flynn. Like the time after Quill first went to work after bringing him home. The kit was so excited to see him when he got home that he jumped up to climb the celestial, but he hadn't jumped high (or low) enough...and ended up headbutting Quill right in his family jewels.

It was already a running joke that a Celestial could be brought to his knees by a baby fox.

Quill was already covering his face from the first story and the raucous laughter that followed and Scott was starting a second story. Specifically the one about the sliding glass door to the balcony on the family floor. Quill had been talking to Sam and they were standing by the doors. He went to lean against the door, but instead just completely fell over, not realizing the door had been open.

Sam still gives him shit about it. Whenever anyone opens the sliding glass door, he turns to find Quill and loudly announces 'The balcony door is open Spacecase! Be careful!' to which the god always flips him off.

Thankfully, Spacecase is a nickname that could easily be interpreted as Airhead, so no one questioned it when Scott said it. They were too busy laughing like retarded seals anyway.

"Hey, you gonna air out all my dirty laundry to these assholes?" Quill complains as he holds Scott closer.

The younger grins. "Laundry! That's another story!" Scott ignores Quill's groan as he lays his forehead on his spouse's shoulder. "His first attempt at laundry ended in a miracle. His second attempt? He put in too much soap so our laundry room was filled with bubbles! Tony laughed his ass off and Flynn had fun." Scott grins.

Smith raises an eyebrow. "Who does your laundry Quill?"

Quill clears his throat with a blush. "Our daughter. Sometimes Scott when he's not busy."

"Cooks?"

"Same." Quill mumbles.

"If you can't cook or do laundry, what the hell do you do?" Wolfe asks.

The Celestial's heart squeezes in his chest. That was a good question. He was a disaster when it came to household chores and whatnot. Sure, he brought in a little bit of money now that he was one of two Captains (he moved up in rank pretty quickly because of his strength and abilities), but was that all he did? Helping move furniture around (or lifting it) so Cassie could vacuum sounded kind of lame, and he couldn't say he regularly fucked his husband into the mattress.

"He protects us." Scott says. "Not just me and Cassie but the rest of us."

"Babe." Quill warns and the younger turns his head to look at him.

"They deserve to know. You're responsible for them now."

Quill deflates. Scott was right. It was one thing when he was a run of the mill firefighter, but now he was their captain. There had already been times when he did something that had them curious, and it was starting to get harder and harder to spin a story about why he was so freakishly strong. So with a nod, he closes the table's tab and has the other three men follow him somewhere out of public eyes (the girls with Smith and Sanchez pouted when they left), and then turns to look at them.

"You guys already know I'm an Avenger." Quill starts and they nod.

"Yeah. You still haven't told us your special abilities or whatever." Sanchez gripes.

"In a way I'm on par with Thor." The god explains. "Just...don't freak out."

After a deep breath, Quill wills his light into his hands, and the three men swear quietly and take a step back, before looking at their captain. To Quill's relief, there wasn't fear, but rather there was excitement and surprise instead.

"You're the Living Beacon?!" Smith sputters and Quill gives him a look.

"The WHAT?! What the fuck kind of name is that?!" Scott snickers from behind him. "It's Starlord, alright?!"

"Okay, okay." Wolfe says. "So what's your story?"

"I was born with these powers. I'm what's called a Celestial. A god."

Sanchez gives him a look. "A god? Like Thor and Loki?"

"They're not gods. That's just what Loki calls them whenever he decides to have a power trip. They can die. I can't. At least not unless you find my core...which I have hidden."

"Well that explains a lot." Smith muses. "I thought I saw your eyes glow last week."

Quill nods. "Yeah, that's my Gaze. It lets me look in on Scott and the girls. I'm still expanding that. I can heal myself and others, you've obviously seen my powers on the news or something...and what Scott said his secret was…it's true."

His three friends stare at him for all of ten seconds before bursting into hysterical laughter.

"Your dick is the literal fountain of youth!" Sanchez cackles.

Quill rolls his eyes. "Alright, alright. Get it out of your system."

He instantly regretted saying that. The three men got out all of the insinuations and innuendos they could think of at the time and it was surprisingly quite a few. While they laughed, Quill's phone started to ring and he answered it and held it up to his ear…

...only to quickly pull it away and wince. There was screaming on the other end, and Quill knew it well enough to know that it was not human. In fact, it was Flynn. He was probably starting to notice that Quill didn't come home at his usual time and was kicking up a fuss.

"Papa...please come home. He's been like this for the past twenty minutes and nothing is helping." Cassie complains.

"We'll be home soon Sunshine. Try giving him one of my shirts?"

"I tried. He actually glared at me and got louder."

Quill chuckles. "Hang in there for a few more minutes." He hangs up and looks at his work buddies who had finally calmed down. At least enough. "We have to go home. My kit is throwing a tantrum."

"Sure. See you in a couple of days." Wolfe says as he snickers. "Try not to infantize your husband in the meantime."

They burst into hysterics again as Quill walks away with an arm around Scott's shoulders, and holds up his other hand to flip them off. They got home within twenty minutes, and Flynn almost instantly quieted when Quill stepped off the elevator.

The little shit ended up bringing Quill to his knees again though.

[waltwest]

The Freelancer

The following is the first thirteen pages of a short story I am writing titled “The Freelancer”. I hope you enjoy. I apologize for the unappealing formatting, this site does not have the most comprehensive text editor.

                                          I.

             Studying the Keurig machine, I wondered how many complacent people it took to ware the word “brew” off the button, leaving behind nothing more than a “b” and an “e”, which looked curiously like an “s”. I imagined this instant coffee machine as the alter in which lost souls came to pay tribute to each morning before assuming their monotonously drudging tasks; lips drawn, eyes downcast. These people were never happy, not even content. It certainly wasn’t a wish of theirs to be here. Men who dreamt of becoming accomplished composers became pencil pushers. Women who yearned to be animators had landed at secretary. The office is where you come to lay your ambition to rest. Maybe it is a lack of assertiveness in demeanor which lands one here, maybe it is the fate of mere circumstance.

           But I, Maxwell Goodman, knew what my job meant; I knew I worked among the dead. Luckily, there was a spark of life that incessantly flickered within me. With my ten ounce mug full before me, I reluctantly took my communion once again.

           Safely back within the confines of my particle board cubicle, the manila folders and stacks of paper demanding this or that seemed to never be satisfied.

           God, who knew lightbulbs could generate so much paperwork, I thought to myself.

           I sat in silence and regarded the congregation of slain trees covering my desk. My collar was sticking to my neck… Trying to strangle me, for God’s sake. My mouth was dry and coated with the thick taste of cheap coffee. My desktop stared into my eyes expectantly, patiently waiting for me to pound away on the keyboard like a good boy… Like I was supposed to. The bulbs may be bright, but they can’t sell themselves!  That’s what my boss Lonny loved to say. Lonny… God, how can someone be balding so terribly at thirty years old? Is it just bad genetics, or too much cortisol?

           I felt a hand clap on my shoulder. “Max-o! Lovely morning, isn’t it? Hey, in case you weren’t aware, Sweet Charade is having a bogo on donuts until the end of the week…”

           Speak of the devil.

           I swiveled my squeaky and unbalanced office chair to face my boss. “Gee, thanks for filling me in, Lonny. You know how much I love that maple-iced.” I responded, attempting to sound enthusiastic. Lonny was a nice guy, he really was. It’s really difficult to be rude to a guy like Lonny, with his premature baldness and all. You kind of had to feel sorry for him in a way, it was impossible to predict whether or not he was just one snide comment away from completely breaking down. He’s kind of unstable, emotionally. Also, his wife died last year. She fell off a cliff. No really, she did. Her and Lonny took a vacation to the Grand Canyon last August. Kept complaining about how bright the sun was and how she “couldn’t see a damn thing.” Next thing you know, she was trying to take a picture of a bird flying above and somehow managed to fall right off the edge of a cliff. Worst part is, she was eight months pregnant with their son, they were going to name him Clint... So yeah, all in all it’s pretty tough being rude to Lonny.

           “I know they’re your favorite, it’s why I told you. Oh, hey-“Lonny pulled his other hand from behind his back, revealing a bloated manila envelope”-think you could handle this for me? Just a little bit of inventory mumbo-jumbo. Nothing too serious!” He was really trying to exude a devastating level of charm, though the effort was ineffective.

           One side of the envelope was sagging down in the air under its own mind-numbing weight. I never thought an envelope could actually look depressed, it almost made me giggle. Grudgingly, I acquiesced and accepted the package with the lift of the eyebrows and a nod. I didn’t want to be mean, but I also didn’t want him to think I was thrilled about all the extra nonsense. Hell, he might’ve even pulled another folder out of his waistband or something if he got the idea I was happy about it. “Here, how about closing this deal for a thousand LED’s to the grocery store down the street as well…” No, I had enough paper, truly.

           Lonny gave me another hearty clap on the shoulder, his bulbous belly jiggling a bit from the force. Again, I had to prevent myself from giggling… I find myself doing that more frequently than I would care to admit. I get the urge to laugh at the worst times, always. “Thanks, Max. I know I can always count on you.” He confided with a smile of endearment. It was difficult to tell whether that was a positive thing or if this was going to come back and bite me in the ass. Probably the latter.

           Ole’ Lonny then gave a sly wink and swaggered off with the air of one who just successfully pawned off his work to an underling, because he could. What a bastard, I thought. He was an alright guy though, I suppose.

           After a formalized second trip to the alter, I submerged myself in the humming of the fluorescents above me and the ocean of paper before me. Seven more hours…

           At precisely 4:59pm, I slapped all of the folders shut and jabbed the power button on my computer with vehemence. My eyes burned like hell, my head was pounding from all of the caffeine, and my hands were all clammy. Very uncomfortable. God, I couldn’t help but to feel that it wasn’t worth it at the end of each day. I was constantly attacked by the bigger picture. What purpose was I serving? What kind of impact was I having on the world? I dwelled upon these questions often, but couldn’t stand beginning to think about the answers.

           After I ended my quick demoralizing contemplation, the sodden procession of rejects began to file out of the glass door. And with the exchanging of “goodbyes” and “see you tomorrows,” my co-workers fell into their hybrid sedans and putted on down the road. Usually I am pulling into my apartment complex before anyone has even started their cars, but I felt like watching today. Sometimes I like to detach myself from situations and just observe.

          Like this one time, I was sitting on one of those couches that are situated in the walkway at the mall. You know, those areas where they have four couches are situated in a square all cozy and whatnot, just in case the going gets too rough. Anyway, I was sitting on one of those couches, just watching. I peered into a shoe store and beheld a child throwing a royal fit, really overdoing it. He was around tromping everywhere, steam spilling out of his ears and all. He was screeching about a pair of shoes he wanted but couldn’t have. They were these real hip joints, green canvas with blue laces. They were disgustingly ugly, if you want to know the truth. Knowing how these retail stores are, I bet they were like a billion bucks. “I want the shoes! I want the shoes!” He was yelling.

          “I can’t get you those… I can’t. I’m sorry, you know I would...”  His father replied weakly, trying his damnedest to not contribute to the mayhem. He looked sad as hell, embarrassed even. I couldn’t tell whether he was embarrassed because he couldn’t afford the shoes, or because his son was being such an ass about it; I suppose it could’ve been a mixture of both.

          “Mommy would get them for me! Call Mommy! I want Mommy!” The kid was belligerent. Stompin’ his snow boots all around the store, trying to leave imprints in the god damn carpet. It was winter by the way, Christmas time.

          “Oh, you know I can’t do that… I’m sorry, I can’t afford the shoes son. Daddy can’t afford them right now.” He was really trying to be quiet and take control of his bratty offspring. Gosh, he looked so ashamed. I cannot stand ungrateful kids. The father ended up buying his son a cheaper pair of sneakers, to the stomping child’s dismay. I say he shouldn’t have bought him any shoes at all, the way he was acting.

          There was something disturbing and insightful about that encounter, though. If I had just been walking by and heard the kid hollering I would have thought he was acting like a bastard, and that would’ve been it. And he was acting like a bastard, don’t get me wrong. But it is intriguing how the layers of the family dynamic unravels, the more you just watch and listen. The divorced parents, the mother always outdoing the father in order to gain their son’s favor… I was able to see a man who didn’t really know what he was doing with his life, or how he’d even gotten there in the first place… He wasn’t in control, maybe he never was. Maybe he never will be. So yeah, I enjoy sitting back and observing sometimes, beats the hell out of boring conversation.

          Anyway, it was time for me to leave work. I grabbed my pointless little leather satchel and walked out the door. Outside, the air felt nice and fresh… I love the revitalizing effects of fresh air. It was especially neat that evening because there was also one of those breezes that whips really good every so often. It made me hungry. So, I decided I would grab some Chinese food on the way to my apartment. It’s on the way, and I have a huge thing for oriental food… especially lo mein noodles.

                                         II.

             Pint of greasy noodles clutched in hand, I stepped into the elevator of my building and pressed the button for the thirteenth floor, the top floor. I have a fear of heights, so initially I was not too keen on the idea of living so high up. But the thing was, I was pretty down on my luck, I suppose you could even say I was vulnerable. I needed a place quickly and this building was convenient for me… As I said, once I realized the only space for rent was on the top floor, I became a little nervous. But, the woman whom I talked to about the whole thing convinced me that rent was actually cheaper on the top floor. So, despite my uneasiness with heights of any kind, I took the place thinking I was scoring some sort of exclusive insider deal. But, after a few months of residing there and conversing with my neighbors, I learned I was paying around $96 more a month than most people in the whole god damn building. Even the other tenants on my floor were paying less than me. Something about my apartment being a “colonial” this that and the other. I don’t know. I swear to God I’m too gullible sometimes. I still had a year left on my lease.

           Up, up, up the elevator went. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, ding! Thirteen. The doors opened and I made my way down the hall. I will admit, the building itself was not too impressive. The ceilings had a few leaks, the walls were painted an awful yellow. Sometimes the air conditioner shut off randomly. But all in all, it could have been a lot worse. Everything could always be worse, don’t ever forget that.

           Of course, my special “colonial” apartment was way at the end of the hallway, number 327. As I approached my rickety door, my eyes locked onto a lone piece of mail sticking out of the little metal mailbox. A quick pulse of endorphins spread throughout my brain. I love getting mail. I pulled the envelope out. It was from the Print Box publishing company! Panic, fear, and excitement rose within my chest all at once.

           I guess I forgot to tell you. I have longed to be an author for as long as I can remember. It is my dream, I guess you could say. Unfortunately, I haven’t had any luck getting published, or even acknowledged for that matter. I have written many different stories and have sent them to every publishing house imaginable. I’ve even sent short clips to shitty magazines hoping to get a bite, to no avail. The only responses I have gotten have been rejections. Most often they don’t even take the time to respond… Trust me, it’s not like I wanted to sell lightbulbs as a career, you should realize that by now.

           And while I had never received positive criticism or encouragement in the past, it was impossible to not feel hopeful when I got a letter back from a publisher. I believed that one day my luck would shift. It had to… Right?

           I hurried and shoved the key into the door, then shot straight to the couch to read what Print Box had to say. My noodles sat on the coffee table, untouched and getting slightly cold.

           I ended up sitting frozen for a couple of minutes, staring at the front of the envelope… As if the address lines were going to tell me that it was going to be okay, this time was different. Really, I was savoring the moment. I had a certain amount of measured confidence when it came to this letter. In my opinion, the story I sent to Print Box was amazing, one of my best yet. It was a story about an inter-galactic space traveler who ends up meeting God and finding out He’s not how everyone thinks He is. I promise it’s not as crumby as it sounds. It was good. You would just have to read it.

           Life seemed to be still around me; a foreboding, ominous stillness. Blood was rushing to my ears. My hands shaking ever so slightly, I ran my finger underneath the seal, and took out the prophecy within. Please, let this be it. Please.

           It read as follows:

           “Dear Mr. Goodman,

           We received your manuscript for ‘Creator’s Paradox’. After review, we are terribly sorry to inform you that we have decided not to publish your work. It is simply not a fit for us.

Best Wishes,

Print Box Publications”

           A cold knife sank deep into my chest. What? That’s it? The letter trembled in my hands. The excitement and hope fled my body entirely, and had been replaced by sorrow and confusion, even anger. How could this be? I should have known. I shouldn’t have expected anything more. Why would this time be any different? It was then that I thought maybe I should just give up. I am no good at this, I absolutely suck. That must be it… They say to chase your dreams, but what if you are just terrible? I had never felt such dread. Maybe I was meant to sell lightbulbs for a living…

           Unceremoniously I ripped the bad news in half and let it fall onto the table. Sinking back into the frayed cloth couch, I would have been completely okay with just disappearing in that moment, I felt deflated.

           After a shameful amount of sulking, I forced down the then limp noodles, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and slid out onto the balcony.

           The night was warm, but not unreasonably so. It was that time of year when you keep a jacket in the backseat of your car, because you can never be certain which way the thermometer will flow. But even though the night was cozy, I had a rain cloud hovering over my head. I was already beginning to accept my future. The cardboard cutout life I was going to surrender to. 401k’s, strategies to improve my credit score… That sort of thing.

           I sipped my beer and looked out upon the terrain before me, in the most reflective of moods. I had to admit, the view was pleasurable from up here. I lived in the boot heel of Indiana, by the way. An area of the world where it is commonplace for urban and rural landscapes to collide, battling for a prominent grip over the territory. Upon my perch, I could see and feel the city below me: the streetlamps, stoplights, cars honking at nothing in particular, the smell of gas and concrete which invaded the nostrils. But when I looked beyond the ring of cityscape, seemingly endless fields and  small hillocks rolled into the horizon, with a strip of highway interceding here and there. The occasional semi would be finding its way through the night, like a worm over soil. It was comforting in a way, made you feel like you could always just escape if you wanted to or needed to.

           I found and traced one semi making his way across the fields. He was at such a distance, I could only distinguish him by the studded lights that adorned his truck. He looked so lonely, plodding along out there, all by himself. I wondered, was he happy? Did he choose his life for himself? Or did he just throw in the towel, like I was having thoughts of doing… I suppose I would never find out. Not like I could pluck him off the road and ask him. Or her. I shouldn’t just assume they are a man. I wonder how much truck drivers make? I heard they bring in quite a bit of dough, actually… I pictured myself taking the reigns of my own eighteen-wheeler; soaking in the sights, getting into a bit of trouble at the various truck stops. It didn’t feel right, though. For a moment I felt my skin squirm.

           The fight of two alley cats below suddenly tore me out of my trance. I noticed I was rubbing my fingers together really hard, and all of a sudden the stench of garbage filled the air. It was all discomforting. I realized that this was the moment that was going to lay the foundation for the rest of my time on Earth. Will I push onward, and become who I want to be? Or do I choose the easy, less turbulent path, and adjust. We all stumble upon this fork in the road at some point throughout our lives. Although, unfortunately, most are blind to the path tucked behind the brush, the path we were each destined to take. We only see the wider, more trodden path of conformity.

           As I stood at the helm of my splitting path, I knew within my heart which route I was going to take. There was no question… I was going to part the foliage and venture into the canopied forest.

                                         III.

             The time was getting close to ten, but I had struck a vein of determination and inspiration. I was not going to simply shrug it off and go to sleep.

           Back and forth I paced around the cramped living room. Couch. Coffee table. Television, resting upon an empty entertainment center. Plastic lamp situated in the corner. Generic cream carpeting. Bland, unextraordinary.

           I paced and paced, contemplatively gripping my chin.

           I knew I had to write something. But what should I write a story about? Gosh, I began to get nervous. In the early twentieth century, here was this Italian novelist named Cesare Pavese. There is a quote of his wherein he states, “the only joy in the world is to begin.” The only feeling I get when I begin something is anxiety and confusion… I can see where he is coming from though, I suppose. There is bound to be intrigue when diving into something new. And anxiety. Shit, where the hell did those Valium go?

           My pacing shifted its course to the bathroom. On the way I passed the boring ass photos that were framed in the four-foot-wide hallway, standing guard. A vase of flowers sitting on a patio table. A tire swing. It felt like the first time I had ever seen these pictures. So generic… So dumb. God, they made me want to puke. Why didn’t I take them down whenever I moved in? My blood pressure was rising. Fucking stock photos.

           I crashed into the bathroom and swung the mirror open. The ole’ medicine cabinet, baby. Where everyone goes when in need of a little chemical therapy. We’re all guilty…

           Sifting through prescriptions old and new, some in my name, others not, I eventually found what I was searching for. Also, upon studying the array of medications in front of me, I realized I may have a slight drug problem. Oh well, it’s not as bad as it once was.

           I recall one incident in particular from the past. I must have taken twelve Xanax bars, maybe more. I went to the park (I love the park) and was feeding some pigeons; leftover Doritos I had found in my car, they were at least four months past the expiration date. Anyway, after just tossing chips around all over the sidewalk for about half an hour, I took a particularly special interest in one of the pigeons. He was a bit smaller than the rest, and one of his eyes was circled in black. Incredibly unique, at least in comparison the others. He was really taking control of the situation too, despite his size. Really getting in there, hardly sharing any of the precious chips. Greedy bastard… I think that’s why I liked him so well.

           Anyway, I decided that I needed him. You know, with his attitude, maybe he could protect my pad or something. I don’t know, I was pretty high. So, after wrestling with him for a bit (if you can picture that), it became clear I could not just pick the rowdy fucker up. Had a lot of fight in him. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had pulled out a cigar from beneath his wing and started puffin’ at me, head all cockeyed and whatnot. “C’maaaaaaaaaan, that all ya got?” I had to regroup, construct a more inventive method of capture.

           Bingo. Easy. He may have been all brawn, but he still had an observable weakness… Doritos.

           With an inward smirk, I strategically (and sloppily) began making a trail of chip crumbs that led to the opened passenger-side door of my car. Worked like a charm, perhaps too well. The whole damn flock began tottering and flapping over to my car. At this point I realized my coveted plan may have had a detrimental absence of foresight,  I thought I was surely doomed. But as always, there was a solution. When the horde got within a few feet of my vehicle, I started kickin’ and screamin’ at all of them. They all flew away quick as can be, except for my new friend of course, the bravest of them all. Victory. I finally managed to coerce the prize fighter into my car with one last huge Dorito, and off to the races we went.

           He shit all over my seats, my dashboard, everything. God, it was terrible. Stunk like hell, too.  To make a long story short, we were never meant to be friends. He continued to mercilessly defecate all over the apartment, pecked the hell out of my ankles, he was extremely aggressive… Not house trained in the slightest.

           Needless to say, I was positively sick of this bastard by this point… I decided the best course of action would be turning him into profit. I took him down to the gas station and tried to peddle him off to the cashier for three dollars… He declined. But to be fair, I believe if he wasn’t at work and whatnot, trying to look good for his boss, he would have gone for it. He truly looked like he wanted that pigeon something fierce… Got all wide-eyed, sweat gathering at the brow. Either he wanted that pigeon, or he was deathly afraid of it. It was almost weird, his intensity.

           Yeah, I used to be kind of awful about it. That happened right after high school. I wasn’t too productive back then, sometimes I wish I could go back and change those years.

           Anyway, I quickly swallowed forty-five milligrams of Valium in the bathroom, on account of my soaring blood pressure and all. The stock photos didn’t help. Plus, I really needed to buckle down and figure out what I was going to write and how I was going to blow the socks off of the publishers and leave their feet steaming. This had to be the big one.

                                         IV.

             I set up shop in the kitchen, the only place in my apartment that has a table and chair. I had my tools for creation all laid out. A trio of freshly sharpened pencils, a pad of paper, and one of those noise machines that produces rainforest sounds and whatnot. Yes, I like those, and yes, I still believe in pencil & paper. Staring at a computer screen for extended periods of time isn’t quite healthy for you. It’s terrible on the eyes, you know. Additionally, there is something therapeutic about manually writing out each letter of a word, your hand carefully forming every one of those curves… The act feels intimate, and poking at a keyboard just isn’t the same. But I digress.

           Let’s see… Romance novels are too cheesy, you almost always know how they are going to end. I had already recently tried my hand at space exploration. Though space is endless, making the potential for stories based in space limitless as well. Still, I wasn’t really in the mood at that moment. Ugh, brainstorming is too much work, truly. This is why I like it best when the ideas come to me naturally.

           Just as I was delving deeper into thought, or trying to, my phone rang from the counter behind me. It gave me a shock, partly because it was getting so late and partly because hardly anyone ever called me.

           Casually I looked to see who my caller was. “Silas,” the screen read. Of course. Silas is an old pal from school that I kept in touch with for some reason. He’s a morally decent guy I suppose, has a good heart. He just never quite grew up.

           “Hello?”

           “Maximillian! What’s up?” He was totally stoned. In the background I could hear the bubbling of a bong along with feminine laughter. I heard something else too, faintly… Was that… Street Fighter?

           “Hey, Silas. It’s almost one in the morning, what’s going on?” I tried my darndest not to sound rude, sometimes I have a problem with that.

           “Oh, nothin’ much man…” More laughter, it caused me to wonder what the hell was so funny. “Hey, Max, do you have any molly? Need some molly… Ecstasy.”

           Initially I figured he was stoned, but he was progressively sounding more drunk than anything. Probably both. “Silas, I haven’t done molly in over three years. What the hell are you thinkin’, do I got any molly? No, I do not… Are you fuckin’ drunk?” This guy blew my mind sometimes.

           Awkward silence. More bubbling. And yes, that was certainly Street Fighter. “Damn dude, my bad… For some reason I thought you might.” More silence. Generally, it’s difficult for this man to process more than a couple of sentences at a time… Got a hell of a heart though. “Well, okay. Hey, do you know anybody who does?” He sounded wistful, maybe even a bit desperate. All the sudden I had the feeling I was not the first person he called about this. It made me sad in a way.

           I sat crisscross on the tile. Why there instead of the chair? I don’t know, it’s what I felt like doing then, okay? I liked the fresh perspective. “No, ‘fraid not. Haven’t touched the stuff in a long time.” Pause. “What the hell ya been up to anyway, Silas?” I was genuinely interested. I began picking at the tile with my fingernail.

           “Uhhh, nothing really. I-…” He really had to think about what he had been up to. “Went to a Cannibal Corpse concert last week. Yeah, concert and stuff.” He sounded like he was about to fall asleep, or become a corpse himself. God, look at all that dust beneath the fridge…

           Just then, I got a wonderful idea. “Gee, that sounds like loads of fun. Hey, Silas. If you were going to write a story, what would it be about? You know, if you were just going to write a story or something… About anything.” I was curious. I wanted to squeeze his mushy brain and see what came out. Plus, the Valium had me feeling a bit conversative.

           The line was quiet for awhile. I could’ve sworn he had fallen asleep, phone pinned between his shoulder and cheek, slobber dripping from his chin. “-A story? Story… Probably about a barbarian or something. Barbarian who has a club and nails chicks in his cave. Like Conan, I guess.” Silence… “Hey, Conan nailed chicks in caves, right?” He was asking someone next to him.

           Boom, inspiration flooded the inside of my head, almost making me dizzy. How didn’t I think of this before?

Obviously, his idea was stupid. But the barbarian aspect intrigued me. How fun would that be? A barbarian who finds himself in a world of magic. Brings it back to Earth for the betterment of humanity. I don’t know, something silly like that. Something people will read, something that will keep them entertained.

           Silas focused his attention back to me. I had almost forgotten I was on the phone with him. “Max, buddy. Hey, Max. Do you have any molly, by chance?”

           I didn’t have the time for this anymore. I needed to get to work. “Sorry, gotta go. Goodbye, Silas.” I hung up the phone. Krosmere… That’s what his name will be.

           I bounced up from the floor and positioned myself back at the table.

           I took a deep breath, turned on the trusty rainfall machine, and poised my pencil. It was time to craft the legacy of Krosmere, rogue barbarian. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been so excited to start something. I was now beginning to feel the meaning of Cesare Pavese’s words.

                                        V.

             A ray of early morning sun dove into the kitchen from the window above the sink, casting the table before me in an orange-red glow. There I was, hunched over my papers, clad only in an old white tee-shirt and a pair of pinstripe boxers. Every hallow in my body had filled with salty perspiration.

           Truly, I had not realized how late it was getting. Or, rather, how early… I risked a glance at the clock on the oven. “5:41am” it read in its obnoxious neon green radiance. Somewhere down the hallway I could hear the maddening wail of my alarm clock trying to be a voice of reason or something, I suppose. How did I not hear that until now? BAH, BAH, BAH, BAH, BAH. God, I just wanted to throw the damn thing against the wall. I have done that quite a few times already. Like after Cinco De Mayo last year. Threw that motherfucker so good it flew out of my room and smacked the wall in the hallway. Or after the Colts lost the Super Bowl. Hell, it wasn’t even morning time, and I’m not into sports! I just went into my room and punted the sumbitch right into the ceiling. I can be childish sometimes. There was also that one time when my ex-girlfriend threw the alarm clock at me… Does that even count? I don’t know. My alarm clock is actually quite beaten up, I should probably buy a new one.

           “5:47am”. As I sat there a couple more moments, I felt intruded upon. As if the sun was invading my privacy, putting me on a stage for all the world to laugh at. Don’t you hate that?

           I strutted to my bedroom, sticky boxers and all, and silenced the howling beast. On my way out, after tripping over an extension cord gone awry, I stood face-to-face with the blasphemous stock photos. Those motherfuckers were taunting me, I know they were. The flowers! The fucking tire swing! Are you kidding me? Rage flared within me. I seriously could not begin to tell you why or how I allowed these abominations to remain for so long. They really made me want to puke.

           Instinctively I tore the frames from the wall and stomped back to the kitchen with them tucked under my arm. I could’ve sworn to God they were burning me with their wickedness, their phoniness.

           I found myself in front of the window, the same window the damn sun broke in through. I disengaged the lock and threw it open. A blast of chill air sucked inward, air you could tell was leftover from the night. It had a nice smell. It was then that I realized how muggy it had been in the kitchen. Like two (or more) people were in here having sex all night or something. If only.

           I peered outside into the shifting sky. You know, there isn’t a lot to brag about in Indiana, but the sunrises are absolutely beautiful. Picturesque, you could say. Deep reds that bleed over the entire Earth, splashes of orange, streaks of lavender. They are serene.

           I felt a searing on my side. Pulling the photos out from my arm, I flung them out into the open air without so much as a last glance. I suppose I could have thrown them in the trash, but then they would still be inside the apartment. They had to be eradicated, and immediately. With pleasure I envisioned gravity pulling them down, down, down, all thirteen floors, where they would meet their well-deserved demise on the sidewalk below. Gosh, I hope they don’t hit anything… An afterthought.

           It took only a grain of sand in the hourglass of our universe for the photos to collide with the pavement, marked by a satisfying crash. Later some would testify that a dog’s yelp followed just after the commotion, but I heard no such thing.

           Smug and triumphant with a menace destroyed, I turned on my heel, only to be blasted with more joy as my gaze fell upon my papers on the table. Oh, my work! My lovely work!

           The lack of sleep, the now sweat stained boxers… It had all been worth it. I had spent all night crafting the structure for what I know, without a doubt, will be my best story ever. The big one.

           I had finished the outline, was already on the second chapter of the story. Hell, I even sketched out a picture of ole’ Krosmere. A muscle-bound barbarian. Thick, long brown hair (like mine). I made him only have one nipple, though. You know, to add character and all that. Really, I am a terrible artist. I couldn’t draw my way out of a two-dimensional square if I had to.

           I still had about three hours until I needed to start selling lightbulbs, which was fine with me. You can do a lot in three hours, if you really try. I figured I could make some breakfast, get cleaned up, maybe even go for a walk. Working through the day without a wink of sleep was not something I really looked forward to, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. Adderall. I’m fairly sure I had someone’s script in my cabinet still. You know, for emergencies and the like.

           With a newfound pep in my step, I threw the pan onto the rusted stove and began cracking some eggs, whistling along with the birds perched among the rooftops outside.

[blehbleehhhh]

Eren Had a Bad Day (ft. EreMika💕)

Oi, massage+smut+fluff anon❣️ I'm so sorry this took forever to write .-. Thanks to anon (and the rest of my followers, really) for being so patient with me 💕 Seriously, with all the medical shit going on and whatnot, really appreciate it. A lot. ❤️❤️

Anyway, kinky words exchanged in here. Seemed to fit the story, idk, hope it's good! 🤷‍♀️

Eren sounded very agitated on the phone, more so than usual. He called to let his girlfriend know that things have gone wrong in the operating room, and he will be home later than anticipated. It isn't often that he calls Mikasa during the day, since she works full time as well but, if he does, the phone will ring an hour or two after his scheduled departure. It'll be clear upon his return how angry he is that one of his surgeries went sideways, and these are the rare occasions where you will find him with a beer in his hand. Perhaps that's why Mikasa's first thought when she got off the phone was to make sure there is at least one beer in the fridge and was relieved to see three Shipyards chilling in the door. She wanders into the bedroom and stopped at the dresser for a bottle of massage oil stored out of sight in a sock drawer, then sits it on her nightstand before quickly stripping from the clothing she planned on wearing to bed later. Her tiny black shorts, white lace panties, and plain dark gray t-shirt were kicked aside as she walks to the bathroom for her black satin robe so she can conceal the surprise. I can't wait to see the look on his face when I take this off. Mikasa smiles to herself as she enters the living room and drops down on the sectional, reaching for the blanket hanging over the back of the couch to cover her lap. She randomly sets Hulu to play Friends and listens to the catchy introduction as she gathers her silky hair into a messy bun. With a sigh of content she lies on her side and curls up in a ball to wait for her boyfriend's return, drifting off to sleep slowly to sounds coming from the television.

It wasn't until two hours later that Eren was sneaking into the apartment, trying desperately to do so silently because he can see Mikasa fast asleep on the couch from here. He sighs with relief to finally be home breathing in this woman's air and smiles as he turns to secure the deadbolt on the door, using caution when removing his shoes so he doesn't make too much noise. But he was pleasantly surprised to see a pair of gray-blue eyes peeking up at him from behind the blanket when he turned to approach her on the sofa. "Well, hello there," Eren smirks as he watches her bring the blanket down just enough for him to see her full smile and rosy cheeks. "Don't you look ridiculously adorable. What have I told you about being cute and or sexy when I'm not home to see it?"

"Hi.." She says shyly, giving him an adorable little grin.

"Hi," He repeats, smiling wide as he crouches to be eye level with her and give the blanket a gentle tug so he can see the entirety of her face. "I see you're missing your scarf. Please don't cover your face, it's way too beautiful to be hidden. Sorry that I'm so late tonight, Miks, things go wrong with just one surgery and it sets you back."

"No, it's okay." Mikasa bites her lip as she slowly guides the blanket further down to reveal her current attire, black satin standing out beautifully from such a fair complexion while it hides the surprise she has underneath. He's practically drooling already and she loves it.

"God, you're gorgeous. Are you naked under this thing?" His voice sounded hopeful and it made her giggle as she placed a hand on his cheek to rub her thumb over the dimple that's now apparent from his grin.

"Maybe.."

"And what exactly did I do to earn this, so I can make sure to do it again?"

"Now, why can't I just decide to surprise you?" Mikasa smiles as he leans in to kiss her on the lips, only to stop him with a gentle hand against his mouth. He raises an eyebrow and chuckles as he kisses her palm, then each of her fingertips. "I thought that I could treat you to a sensual massage and let you have your way with me afterwards.." She blushes at her bold words and he smirks as her hand finally allows him to crash his lips against hers, receiving a playful squeal with a gentle nibble to his lower lip that gets him every time. He can feel the heaviness in his chest lessening with each kiss and it quickly grew easier for him to breathe, so long as he remains melting in her simply radiant presence while he listens to that contagious giggle depending on where his fingers tickle into her belly. She sighs happily as they kiss and breathes a quiet chuckle as her hand pushes into his shoulder to force their lips apart. His face definitely reads as amused, though he gives a playful pout.

"I mean, I wouldn't object to that. Especially if I get to have sex with you afterwards. That's my favorite, you know."

"I love it too," Mikasa grins, her sweet breath dusting his lips as raven hairs fall across her face from a collapsing messy bun and brought her lean long legs over the edge of the couch. He smirks as her fingers tickle beneath his chin. Gotcha. "Now, go into the bedroom and get naked for me, then lie down on your stomach while I get you a beer."

"Sounds good, but let's get one thing straight you hot little tease," Eren smiles as he studies her dazzling, playful eyes. "You do realize that we're only switching rolls like this tonight because you're so irresistibly sexy, right?"

"Yes, sir.." She breathes to his mutual grin and chuckles when he groans deeply in response, leaving a few loving kisses on her lips before he forces himself to stand. He simply looks at his beautiful girlfriend and smirks as he proceeds to lean down then kiss her repeatedly because he just can't get enough of her. She smiles against his lips and pushes him away, pointing to the bedroom with a playfully impatient sigh that he won't do as instructed. Eren definitely found this amusing since he was already laughing to himself whenever he finally went in the other room, leaving her to wander into the kitchen so she could grab his beer. She feels so excited for what's to come that her heart skips a beat, and she smiles to herself as she tosses the removed bottle cap into the recycling bin. Adrenaline makes her heart more excited and this only became worse when she saw her incredibly attractive boyfriend laying in bed on his stomach deliciously naked. A warm pulse throbs between her legs and she feels herself becoming more wet as she gets closer to him to set his beer on the nightstand. "God dammit, Eren, you're just so painfully hot.." He mumbles a laugh into his pillow because his mind still struggles on the occasion to accept her speaking about him this way, even though they've been together for almost five years now. It wasn't really common to hear some sort of compliment from her and not because she had nothing to say, quite the opposite, but now he hears how attractive he is every day, so it's definitely been an adjustment.

"You..." Eren smirks as he props himself up on his arm to wrap the other around her tiny waist, making her giggle to suddenly be pulled right up to the edge of the bed. "You just keep your pretty little mouth shut because you're certainly one to talk." She loses her balance willingly and falls forward so she's bent over the bed at the waist, her cheek landing close enough to his face that he could easily kiss her lips as he placed his hand on her rear for a playful spank. "This sexy ass is a masterpiece."

"Is that right?" Mikasa whispers as she climbs up in bed to sit on her knees spread wide, giving him a shy smile and swinging one of the satin ribbon tails with her hand. "What do you think of the rest of me?" He smirks in amusement as he watches her tug on the ribbon to gradually expose naked snowy territory that has never failed to make him lick his lips, especially when her hair is let down and tousled messily.

"You look absolutely delicious, Mika."

"Delicious?"

"Yes, delicious. You know, appetizing, I could devour you, you're sexy as fuck?"

"Shhh," Mikasa smiles and snaps open the massage oil cap, tipping the bottle over just enough to drizzle warm oil on his arms, legs, and back. "Let me reward you for taking such great care of me.." She closes the bottle and tosses it aside, slowly moving her hands along his arm while being sure to pay special attention to the hands that work hard every day building a stable life for them and their future children. Eren chuckles and she notices immediately, her hands working his opposite arm while she stretches her body across his. Wiggling her hips teasingly. "Something funny, hot stuff?"

"No, nothing, you're just really really sexy. I've been thinking though, why don't you get on your stomach instead? Maybe raise your cute ass for me? Interested?"

"I'd be lying if I said getting fucked like that until I pass out didn't sound wonderful as well, you're just gonna have to be patient."

"But you're just, like, completely naked, and I can't even touch you. Are you certain that you don't hate me?" Eren laughs as her hands quickly spread oil on his legs before she turns her focus to rubbing what remains on her breasts, her entire abdomen, and the already wet space between her legs. She can see him watching, observing, smiling because he loves the sight of her crawling naked in bed, even if she's straddling his lower back and pressing her hands flat between his shoulders to begin distributing massage oil. And that's when he registered that hot wetness slowly grinding on his skin, which felt much better than the heels of her hands pressing into his shoulders. Though he certainly isn't complaining about that either. "Yep, you definitely hate me. Fuck, you're so hot!" He groans as she leans down to slowly rub herself on his back, her perky little breasts and nipples pressing lightly into his skin.

"Oh, I do love you, Eren, I can assure you of that..." She whispers seductively his ear and smiles to herself when he responds with a mix of a whine and a groan, almost as if he's pleading to let him touch her. Perhaps she has made the ache he has harder to ignore? Good. Mikasa smiles as she slides her hands down his arms and briefly interlocks their fingers, pressing soft, teasing kisses to the side of his neck because she knows it drives him wild. He hisses under his breath and gently squeezes her fingers as she continues to grind on him. She slowly brings her hands up to his shoulders as she rises up, applying very little pressure to the back of his neck with her thumbs. He seems to relax under her touch and it pleases her greatly that she has this affect on him.

"Fuck, Mikasa," Eren sighs with content as her fingers carefully massage the space where his shoulder meets his neck. "Since when can you do this? I bet it only took one YouTube video to learn it." She lays on top of him and allows her hands to wander down his arms once more as her teeth nibble gently on his earlobe, easily one of his biggest weaknesses. He simply laughs, half whining to her because he knows that he can't do anything about his girlfriend's evil teasing, even if he wanted to.

"Now now, a lady never reveals her secrets. I bet you're already nice and hard for me, aren't you?" She whispers as her lips softly kiss his jaw, cheek, then the side of his neck.

"That's an understatement. You should take care of it."

"No," Mikasa chuckles almost evilly as she whispers in his ear: "I'll play with your big cock when I am ready to..." He gives a low, seemingly uncontrollable groan at her words as the heat between her legs glides agonizingly slow over his back which only seems to be growing wetter, much to his amusement.

"Feels like someone is getting pretty excited."

"Yes," She smiles and he can hear it in her voice as her hands smooth over the muscles of his back. "I've been like this all day. Are you gonna beg for me to touch you, Eren?" Her lips slowly kiss along his neck the way he likes as she continues to rub her body against his, her teeth just barely gracing his skin on occasion with her tongue. He's in heaven.

"Psh, I'm no pansy. I can totally lie here with my super sexy, naked girlfriend rubbing her amazing body against - fuck!" He interrupts himself with a laugh because she's slowly rubbing her breasts on his back and her nipples are becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. She chuckles softly in his ear, feeling victorious that there is at least one thing in which she will always have the upper hand.

"Maybe if you weren't so gorgeous yourself, I could keep my hands off of you and we wouldn't smell like we just rolled around in a field of lavender."

"I'm really struggling to picture your end game here. Could you maybe give me a 5 minute demonstration of what you plan to do with me afterwards?"

"Tsk tsk tsk," Mikasa giggled and raises her hips to scoot down his body, drizzling oil on his lower back and rear. "Nice try, handsome." She presses the heels of her palms into the small of his back and allows them to wander slowly, paying attention to his sides and behind which he loathes having touched. She snickers when he simply chuckles, his hand reaching down to playfully smack hers away from his ass.

"Aw, shoot, Miki," He snorts, grinning from ear to ear. "Can't blame a guy for tryin'."

"Just shut up and roll on your back for me." She replies in a sultry voice that made his stomach burn with desire and he laughed awkwardly through his own groans as she proceeds to lay on top of him the way she was before. Her lips land on his shoulder first and move up slowly as she stretches out on his back to eventually kiss his neck, where they smile at his low groans that she is responsible for.

"Mikasa, I'm seriously going to fuck you so hard."

"Ooh," She purrs as her teeth nibble on his neck. "That's what I want to hear. I love that you you want me so badly it's slowly driving you wild..."

"Damn right it is. Just wait until I get my hands on you. You know what I’ll do first? Spread your legs and eat you out."

"Strange, since this is pay back for edging me the other night when you were eating me out."

"Oh please, you didn't seem to be complaining at the time. In fact, I recall you coming quite a few times that night."

"You know what? Just for your attitude, I think I might try to draw out this next part." Mikasa smiles against his neck and sits tall on her knees so she can move out of the way, when he suddenly rolls over to take advantage of his arms being free and trap her naked body flush against his. She giggled and falls back with him so she lays on top, her legs on either side of his hips to make it so she straddles his lap. Kisses are exchanged eagerly as she reaches between them to carefully place her hand under his length and slowly rubs the dripping wetness between her thighs on his erection. Mikasa pulls her lips away and sits tall on his lap as she massages the tip with her the pads of her fingers and her heat. She watched his eyes in amusement as he gazes up at her lovingly, admiring the way that her body moves. "I'm sorry you had a bad day today." She takes his hand in hers and lightly presses both thumbs into his palm as she slowly grinds on just sensitive head, making him moan and chuckle because it just feels so good.

"I don't even remember the last time I called to let you know I'd be late. Patient didn't die thank god, he should be just fine."

"It's definitely been a while since you were set back like that."

"Yeah. You're absolutely killing me, you know."

"Oh? Tell me how bad you want me."

"How about I just show you how much I want you?" Eren smirks as his hands glide up her oiled legs to grab her hips, her hands landing gently on his chest, their owner perfectly content with surrendering control of how fast she moves her hips to her lover.

"Ooh.." Mikasa grins as she presses her lips together and happily allows him to guide her to his hearts content, purring endless sounds of pleasure that are music to his ears. She leans down and rests her forehead on his, moaning softly to his lips as they use their oily bodies to advantage by grinding faster. He smirks when he feels her hips tilt in a way that enables him to easily slide into her entrance, already wet from the constant stimulation its received. Her mouth falls open and they both moan as he readies himself to thrust, bending his legs at the knee and pressing his feet into the mattress. Before she knew it, he was thrusting so quickly, that the sensation felt euphoric and made her mind unable to think, rendering her almost speechless. All that came out was a most erotic cry that triggers something in him to rail into her and she loved it, wailing her pleasure filled cries into their dark bedroom.

"I told you...I would fuck you hard..." Eren grunts as he listens to her loud moans from such an explosive climax, his thrusts only ceasing when he feels her legs begin to shake. "Good girl." He whispers to her breathlessly as he slowly guides her on his length and chuckles that he's managed to make her come again. "That's a good Miki." She softly moans his name to him and licks her lips as he carefully pushes her hair away with his hand, kissing her repeatedly as the trembling in her body lessens.

"I need more.."

"Oh, I'll give you more. I'll give it to you all night if you want." He smiles as her hips begin to stir, grinding slowly on the hardness nestled deep inside her. She whimpers pleasurably when he suddenly takes control, holding her steady with his hands on her sides as he thrusts up into her. It felt delightful, and soon she was hunching over him smiling wide, her eyes glued on his in a dreamy gaze and concentrating hard. "Cum for me again, beautiful!" Her mouth falls open and she allows her eyes to flutter shut, her head falling forward, raven hair briefly shielding his view until she flips it over.

"Mmm!" Mikasa moans as her hands use his warm, oily chest for balance, and digs her nails into his sculpted body. She shakes and trembles, thoroughly enjoying the sensations he's giving her because she absolutely loves being pounded into. "Oh, Erennn!" His thrusts slowed but they were much rougher and each one made her giggle excitedly, moaning louder than she already had been. He groans as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her down on top of him, his hands smoothing across the soft skin on her back.

"Fuck!" Eren moans deeply as he quickly rails his entire rod into her over and over just savoring how wonderful it feels to be inside. "Come on...come on.." He grunts, hissing under his breath as they make love hard and exchange loud pleasurable sounds with bucking hips and growls. But then he stops, and he smirks as her insides quiver through another orgasm. "I love you, Mikasa," His whisper tickles her neck as he presses his lips to her skin. "I love you more each day, with every kiss," He chuckles and lets his hands slowly roam her back, thrusting into her so quickly that she can't even consider reciprocating. "Every time we make love and have wild sex like this." She cries out his name and slides her hands beneath his pillow, her fingers curling into the sheets.

"Oh, god, yes!" Mikasa cries and squeals with delight when he sends her over the edge again, her trembling body finally given a break as he slows his thrusts. "I love you too..." She smiles as she sits up to meet his playful, lustrous gaze and blushed, his hands wandering along her back to stop at her rear and grip each side with his large hands.

"I love you more."

"Bullshit." Mikasa smiles as she pressed her lips to his once more, her legs controlling how fast she lifts her hips until she feels the tip, then sunk down. The change felt fantastic and he couldn't help but moan as he holds her close and allows himself to relax completely while she rides him. Her pace increases quickly and they moan together as their bodies eventually begin to move in tandem, his hands squeezing her backside to help her bounce. "Eren, yes!" She squeals with delight as he spanks and squeezes both sides of her backside.

"Fuck!" Eren hisses, moaning loudly with deep grunts because his climax feels so wonderful and explosive that he would definitely describe it as earth shattering. He buries himself in as far as he can one last time and lets his pulsating erection spasm inside of her, coating her insides with his seed. She collapses on top of him feeling just as spent and satisfied with their lovemaking. "Damn, that was so.." He says breathlessly and laughs with her as she lazily kisses along his jawline.

"Passionate?" Her voice sounds sleepy and it made him smile so wide that his cheeks started to ache. "Incredible?" She giggles as his arms hug her body close to his and sighs happily in response.

"Yes, yes to both."

"So, does that mean your day has gotten better?"

He simply laughs. What a silly question.

"And then some."

"Good," Mikasa smiles, yawning adorably into her hand as he kisses her cheek. "I know you were a little busy, but don't forget about your well deserved beer, doctor." He chuckles as their lips collide once more for a rapid succession of kisses and smoothed his hands on her back.

"You're right." Eren smirks as he reaches for his opened beer on the nightstand, still surprisingly cold to the touch, holding her close with one arm around the waist so they can sit up together. She giggled at the sudden change and pressed a kiss to his cheek, her lips wandering slowly down his neck and moving across to the opposite side. He lets his fingertips travel her spine and brings the beer to his lips for a decent, heavy swig. "Yeah, today ended up being pretty fucking amazing."

[girrsah]

Chapter: 7/? Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Dabi/Hawks (My Hero Academia); more to come as story progresses Characters: Todoroki Fuyumi, Dabi (My Hero Academia), Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Hawks (My Hero Academia), Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Usagiyama Rumi | Miruko

Additional Tags:

Dabi is a Todoroki, Fuyumi and Dabi Twin AU, mentions of child abuse, Abuse, Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Emotional Abuse, vigilante!Fuyumi, non-canon compliant, PTSD, more pairings to come but I don't want to spoil them, self-care, sometimes self-care is kicking your brother's ass, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fake Dating, more relationships as they occur in the fic

She always hated coming here.

She’d seen the campus a few times when she and Touya were approaching their first years, she’d come along to cheer him on during his testing only to test for the General Studies course herself. 

They both got in but she declined due to...well...

Schools were meant to have color, to have fun, to encourage children to get along and be the best they could be and to be the best they could be while bringing each other up at the same time. U.A. always gave her a clinical vibe and while Shouto told her that the other students often had team-ups, study groups, and whatnot, there was still a level of competition that seemed a bit too Battle Royale for her taste.

Then again, maybe the fact that she watched her brother completely over-freeze the stadium in his first Sports Festival had something to do with it.

Fuyumi sucked in a breath and approached the gate that only students and staff could pass through and looked up towards the camera at the probable security guard. “Excuse me? I’m Fuyumi Todoroki. I have a meeting with Aizawa-sensei?”

A panel opened up and she jumped at the abruptness of it’s movements and then the awkwardly loud voice coming over the speaker. “Put your hand to the screen.” She did as such, watching as it scanned her finger prints, “Please remove your glasses and look into the camera above the screen.” She obeyed, leaning forward and feeling goofy as she tried not to blink during the quick retinal scan. “Thank you, Ms. Todoroki, please take your visitor badge and map to Aizawa-sensei’s office.”

She fumbled a bit, taking the badge and clipping it to her blouse collar since she had nowhere else to visibly put it and then accepted the map with a quick thank you and made her way to the large, H shaped building. 

It looked too corporate to be full of children .

It didn’t help that Fuyumi was just coming from work where she spent a day encouraging kids to color and have fun. She was in the business of helping create happy, well rounded children who didn’t have to think twice about the Hero Society if they didn’t want to. Not when they can talk about puppies and fairy tales. 

But that also meant she felt terribly underdressed in her jeans and blouse. It was a surprisingly warm fall day (the past few days had been extremely cold so this warm front was a welcome surprise) so she didn’t bring a cardigan but her work bag hung off her shoulder and she gripped it tightly as she entered the main campus building and turned right as the map advised.

After some time of walking, she found herself a bit lost and she felt relief when she saw two boys about Shouto’s age walking down the hallway, “Excuse me!” She called out to them while approaching them, “I’m sorry but I can’t seem to find this room…” She pointed to the map, “I have a meeting with Aizawa-sensei of class 1-A.”

Both boys were tall and certainly looked like they belonged at U.A. in the sense that they seemed fit and imposing. The boy with unruly purple hair bent down slightly to look at the map and shook his head a bit, “They gave you bad directions,” He told Fuyumi, “Aizawa-sensei’s not even in that room half the time.”

“It’s not their fault, Shinsou, these maps are based off of time blocks and Aizawa-sensei simply doesn’t follow his own schedule!” The other boy, broad with a neat haircut and glasses scolded.

“Are you actually speaking negatively about your teacher, class president?” The boy, Shinsou, asked.

The other boy sputtered and straightened up immediately, “You’re not in our class yet, Shinsou, so I’ll just warn you now that if you think-” Fuyumi cleared her throat, “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be late for my meeting.”

Shinsou gave her a smile, looking more pleased at the red color of his soon-to-be classmate’s face than anything, “We can show you,” He assured in a soft, kind tone that Fuyumi would associate with a Hero student - good thing this boy either was one or was going to be one.

They started leading her back towards the way she came and Shinsou opted to break the silence, “So why are you meeting with Aizawa-sensei?” “Shinsou, don’t be nosey!”

“I’m Shouto Todoroki’s sister,” Fuyumi introduced herself, “I wanted to talk to him about something Shouto said to me the other day.”

The other boy looked surprised and then a little flustered, “My apologies, I didn’t know Todoroki had a sister!” He all but exclaimed before stopping to properly and politely greet her, “I’m Tenya Iida. Todoroki and I are friends and classmates!”

Fuyumi smiled, “It’s nice to meet you, Iida.” She replied kindly, biting back the feeling of disappointment that Shouto didn’t speak about home to the point that no one knew he had an older sister. Did he talk about Natsuo? Or did he just not mention her? “He seems so much happier since making friends at U.A. so thank you!”

Iida seemed more flustered at that, his face a bit red and a small, pleased smile on his face, “O-Of course! I appreciate his friendship!” He announced robotically, “This way please!” 

Shinsou rolled his eyes behind Iida’s back, offering Fuyumi an amused little smile as the Class President led the way outside and towards some buildings just past the main campus.and towards a series of brick buildings. They walked towards one of the buildings and Iida opened the door before looking at Shinsou.

“...I suppose you can come in.”

“Gee, thanks.”

They made their way in, Shinsou taking off in a different direction after a quiet ‘nice to meet you’ to Fuyumi and she heard a chorus of delighted ‘Shinsou!’ coming from what she assumed was the common area. Iida led her to a room just off the entrance and knocked on the door politely.

“Aizawa-sensei! You have a visitor! She says you have an appointment!”

There was a noise like something had fallen and then fumbling behind the door before it was yanked open to reveal the sight of Shouto’s extremely disheveled teacher. His gaze flickered from Iida, who looked thoroughly unimpressed, then to Fuyumi and then back before he let out a long, drawn out sigh.

“Thank you, Iida.” He dismissed, “Ms. Todoroki, please, come in…...don’t mind the mess.”

Fuyumi looked at Iida, giving a slight bow, “Thank you for your help.” She offered him a kind smile.

The pink seemed to return to his face as he bowed back awkwardly and (loudly) assured her that it was his pleasure before robotically turning around and rushing away as quickly as he could without actually running. Fuyumi gave a confused little hum, wondering if Shouto’s friends were all this...odd...and turned her attention back to Aizawa, who was attempting to look like he was tidying his office by pushing papers back and forth.

There was a chair in the corner, the office designed more for him to work than for him to meet with anyone and Fuyumi awkwardly decided to close the door behind her and sit on the edge of her chair, her bag neatly by her feet as she watched Aizawa seem to gather his thoughts as he shuffled through all of his papers and tried to make himself less disheveled. 

“Should I come back later?” Fuyumi asked tentatively.

He looked up at her suddenly and she flinched at his sharp expression but he immediately softened upon seeing her reaction, “No, no, I’m sorry about keeping you waiting, Ms. Todoroki.” He sighed heavily and found what he was looking for, a post-it note with near intelligible writing. “I’m surprised you asked to speak to me and not your father-”

“He doesn’t know I’m here,” Fuyumi interjected, “I...He feels Shouto’s focus should be more on his schoolwork and his goal of becoming a Hero.” “Whose goal?”

“Pardon?” Fuyumi asked, her face growing a bit warm as Aizawa studied her intently before leaning back in his chair.

“You wrote to me because you were concerned about your brother’s being able to wrap up your injured hand?” Aizawa asked and Fuyumi flinched at his words, tugging her sleeves a bit over her bandaged hands as she’d split them once again due to Quirk overuse (she didn’t expect such a brawl last night) and this time had to look up a YouTube tutorial to effectively wrap them. “You realize dressing minor wounds is something every hero should know, Ms. Todoroki, so I’m curious to know why you’re actually here.”

“O-Oh, well, I…”

She should have known he would have picked up on her weak excuse immediately.

“As I said, my father is more concerned with Shouto’s educational and professional successes,” She started slowly, “And...I’ve been watching Shouto since he started at U.A. and while I am concerned about the fact that your students are regularly bandaging each other up, I’m thankful for how he’s doing socially. I was worried about him when he first started but he’s really opened up.”

Aizawa hummed and ran a hand through his messy hair, “If it’s any consolation, it’s usually just one particular student that needs the bandaging up.”

“It’s not.”

“Understandable.” 

Fuyumi shifted, “I know my father wants Shouto at U.A. and I know Shouto wants to be at U.A. but...can you let me know what your students go through so I can just have...peace of mind?” She plead. “I’m just…”

“Worried now that your father is Number One Hero and with past attacks on U.A. that Shouto may not be in the safest place?” Aizawa guessed.

Fuyumi flinched and nodded slowly, “The world is getting scarier and I can’t really voice my concerns to anyone but...I just want to make sure my youngest brother is safe.”

Aizawa hummed, crossing one leg over the other as he studied her silently and she squirmed in her seat, suddenly realizing that this was probably a terrible idea. He was a Pro Hero who could probably and would probably see right through her. She’d already seen him glance at her bandaged hands, his questions were probing but not enough to stir up any real suspicion. She worried for the students’ mental health but she worried that her appearance would completely derail the conversation and that Aizawa would figure her out. 

Maybe he already knew she was playing vigilante and getting into fights. Maybe he heard about the bar fight and put one and two together. Afterall - her brother had half an Ice Quirk, it was fully possible he had a sibling with an Ice Quirk, right? She’d been sloppy. She’d been careless. She was sitting here in front of a Pro Hero, covered in bandages and trying to keep cool.

He was on to her and she was playing right into it.

“I’ve gotten quite a few comments from concerned parents about exactly this subject,” Aizawa replied, pulling Fuyumi from her panic, “Even though they agreed to the dorm system, the news reports start sinking in as does the battle your father went through with the High-End Noumu and they need to be sure they’re making the right decision for their children to be here.” She felt the tension leave her shoulders at his words and she looked down at her hands, glad she was apparently wrong about him seeing right through her and readjusting her bandages a bit. 

Aizawa shuffled through his paperwork and slid out a form, offering it to Fuyumi, “This is their typical schedule. I hope you understand that I’ve had to mark out important information for the sake of security…”

“I understand,” Fuyumi replied softly, accepting the paper and reading over the page. The kids had a lot of practical lessons but it was good to say that the school was still teaching them relevant courses such as Math and Literature. “What about psychological wellness?” Fuyumi asked suddenly, “And offering the children options?”

“Options?” Aizawa asked, his demeanor a little more alert now.

“They’re children,” Fuyumi replied, “They can change their minds. Or, heaven forbid, they experience an injury in the field that could prevent them from continuing their Heroing careers. If you don’t give them options such as a secondary career focus, they’re going to start at square one when everyone else their age is far ahead of them.” Aizawa raised an eyebrow at her and she immediately felt herself clam up, quickly putting the paper back on his desk and staring down at her hands, flexing her fingers carefully, “I-I-I’m sorry. I didn’t...I shouldn’t be...I’m not one to tell you how to tell your job.”

Who did she think she was? Just acting like she could tell a Pro Hero how to teach children how to be Pro Heroes. It was shameful. 

“Ms. Todoroki, do you have a boyfriend?”

“E-E-Excuse me?”

Aizawa sighed heavily and rubbed at the back of his neck, “I’m always bad that this,” He muttered under his breath, “Ms. Todoroki, you’re... while I am Shouto’s teacher, if you need someone to talk to about,” His eyes glanced to her hands again, “Anything…”

Oh, he thought she had a...well, he wasn’t entirely far off but…

“I really appreciate your offer,” She assured, “But these are just from taking self-defense classes.”

He didn’t seem to believe her and she shifted awkwardly in her seat again, “I...thank you for your reassurances,” She announced, standing up and he followed suit. “Seeing that Shouto’s got such a strong support system at school is really helpful.”

“I didn’t exactly answer your question…” Aizawa drawled, moving to open the door for her - or keep it closed and keep her pinned in.

“It wasn’t my place to ask it,” Fuyumi replied quickly.

Aizawa continued to study her and she looked anywhere but his face, fidgeting with the bag in her hands. After a long moment, the Pro Hero sighed and pulled the door open, pushing it with his arm because the office was so cramped and allowing Fuyumi to duck under his arm and pass through the doorway.

She turned and gave a short, deep bow, “Thank you for listening to my concerns,” She told him, eager to get out of there now that she felt on edge.

He was on to her. He was on to her. Hewasontoher.

She wondered if she looked suspicious outside of the obvious injuries. Was she breathing too heavily? She certainly felt like it. Why was this building so hot? Weren’t the students uncomfortable? Wasn’t Aizawa? He was wearing what essentially seemed like a jogging suit, afterall. So why was she feeling so warm and no one else felt bothered?

“Thank you for expressing them,” Aizawa replied before his gaze shifted from her to down the hall, a scowl momentarily crossing his face.

Fuyumi followed his scowl, just barely seeing a handful of teenage faces dipping behind the corner. She huffed out a tiny laugh before looking at Aizawa again, feeling a little better now that the tension was broken by the teenagers. He looked at her, his annoyance with his students evident but she didn’t see any harm behind his expression - it was more of a tolerance than anything.

It was reassuring.

Shouto and his friends would be fine.

She bowed politely again, “Still, thank you.” 

Aizawa gave a short nod, “Of course. And like I said earlier…”

He didn’t continue with his response, probably because Fuyumi’s face was feeling hot and she certainly knew she’d either grown red in the face or had gone completely pale along with being tight lipped and looking anywhere but at him. Her whole body was tense at the idea that Shouto’s teacher was under the assumption that she was being...well...she wasn’t and she certainly didn’t want to talk about it.

“I appreciate it,” She replied, realizing afterwards that her tone was more clipped than she intended. 

“Fuyumi?” Fuyumi and Aizawa both turned to see Shouto standing at the end of the hallway, looking concerned for the most part as he glanced between the two of them. “Is everything okay?”

High near the ceiling, just by the corner was an ear.

“Oh, Shouto,” Fuyumi fumbled, trying to find the right thing to say so she wouldn’t mortify and embarrass her little brother in front of his friends and classmates. “We’re just…”

“I’m having progress checks with your parents and guardians,” Aizawa drawled, “When we established the dorm systems, we thought it would be a good idea to offer progress reports in the beginning so that we and your parents can be certain this is the right move for your progress and well being.” 

Shouto’s eyes flickered from Aizawa to Fuyumi and she offered a smile, more at ease now that Aizawa had established that it was okay to lie to her little brother, “I guess I must be the first one to get a progress check,” Added lightly with a little shrug.

Shouto didn’t seem impressed, “What about Father?”

She waved him off, “You know that he’s busy,” She replied, “Besides, I figured you’d prefer it if I came instead of him. I’ll tell him about the visit tonight.”

Shouto still continued to frown at her.

“Unless you want your sister to meet your friends, I think it’s for the best to let her go home,” Aizawa chimed in.

Shouto looked at Fuyumi, clearly internally debating if he wanted to introduce her to his class in such an impromptu manner and Fuyumi decided to spare him. “Maybe next time, I need to get home and get started on dinner.” She didn’t look at him out of fear that he may be relieved. That maybe the thought of her meeting his friends was something he’d never want or perhaps he feared she would say something to embarrass him. She bowed yet again to Aizawa, pushing that thought down, “Thank you again for your assurances.”

Aizawa nodded and gestured for Fuyumi to follow him. She glanced quickly back at Shouto, lifting a hand in farewell before leaving her youngest brother in the hall as she followed his teacher to the front door of the dorm building. She thought that Aizawa would simply hold the door open for her and shoo her out, so she was surprised when he joined her outside and closed the door behind him, walking in step with her as they descended the stairs to the front door.

God, what if he wanted to approach the source of her injuries again?

“My apologies for my students,” He commented, “To be truthful, your brother doesn’t speak about his home life so you’re a bit of a surprise for the class.”

“I hope it doesn’t cause trouble for Shouto,” Fuyumi sighed softly.

“He’ll be alright,” Aizawa assured.

Fuyumi gripped her bag tightly and kept her gaze on the sidewalk as they walked towards the entrance of the school grounds. She figured Aizawa was walking her partly because he wanted to apologize for his students’ curiosity and partly because letting someone loose on campus was a security risk. They could create a timeline of when Fuyumi arrived through the security check, but they had to make sure she actually left.

They walked in silence, stopping at the gate and Fuyumi was starting to feel silly at this point with how many times she was thanking Aizawa, but it would be rude not to. He didn’t seem to mind as his hands were tucked into his pockets and he gave her a look that was more exhausted than anything.

“Thank you again,” She said softly, “I hope our lie doesn’t cause more work for you.”

Aizawa shrugged, “It’s probably for the best if I allow parents this opportunity,” He replied. “They may provide feedback that is valuable. Thank you for your suggestion in regards to the mental health of the students as well as providing alternative opportunities.”

Fuyumi shifted her hold on her bag, feeling sheepish that he’d actually taken her suggestion into account, “Well, I…” She looked at him quickly and looked away again, “I teach young children and I always want to make sure that they’re set up to grow into the best they can be. I had a feeling you would understand.”

Aizawa seemed honestly surprised by that, his brows raising as his head tilted just enough to indicate his interested, “You’re a teacher as well?” He asked.

“Just elementary,” Fuyumi replied with a soft laugh. “It’s a much different atmosphere than high school.”

“Debatable.”

Fuyumi couldn’t control the tiny laugh that escaped her as Aizawa kept his poker face. They bade each other farewell and Fuyumi walked through the gate, stopping to return her visitor’s badge to the security console before making her way home with the mental plan to make dinner for herself and her father, take care of preparing for class the next day, and see if she could check out any of the leads from the night before.

She knew she couldn’t scope out the exact area that the gang had told her purely because she’d overheard her father talking on the phone about the bar brawl and if they gave her that information so easily then they definitely spilled the beans for Endeavor. The area was going to be watched by heroes for a fair amount of time and it was just not a good idea to be caught anywhere near the area.

However, if the area was flooded with Heroes, then anyone in a more unsavory lifestyle was going to evacuate the premises. If she investigated just outside the radius of Hero patrol, there was a chance she could get another lead at the very least. 

She just had to get to Touya and everything would turn out fine.

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Dark Side: Part 2

Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Steve X Reader

Summary: You expected Captain America to be a lot of things… You didn’t expect him to be anything like you. As it turns out, America’s Golden Boy may be more than a little tarnished.

Warnings: Violence, blood, some feels

A/N: This bad boy is for @littledarlinhavefaithinme ‘s Marvelous Writing Challenge!

Lol, two parts. Who the fuck do I think I am? In all fairness, I feel like @littledarlinhavefaithinme knows my work well enough to know that I’m a wordy bitch. 

Hope y’all enjoy!

Tags are open!

You give yourself one more look in the mirror. The black strappy Dior high-low dress is just the right balance of sexy and classy. The gold Louboutins bring the perfect level of sparkle. And your red lips pick up the sole of the heels creating a flawless balance.

It’s not vanity that says you look like a knockout. It’s an indisputable fact. You just wish you were in a state of mind to appreciate it.

Your phone dings alerting you that your driver is waiting. Sighing you plaster your signature carefree smirk on your lips, grab your coat, clutch, and steel your nerves.

As the car pulls up he’s already at the corner waiting. You’re not the least bit surprised that he showed or that he’s early. Captain America didn’t seem the fashionably late type.

Before getting out you eye him through the tinted window of the Town Car. Despite the late autumn chill in the air, he’s not wearing a coat. Those cool blue eyes scan the area taking in everything. He has his hands shoved in his pockets and… he actually seems like he may be just a smidge nervous. That brings a real smile to your face. How endearing.

Knowing it won’t take him long to spot you, you thank your driver and step out. Immediately he locks on to you. Before meeting him it had been a long time since someone had genuinely managed to surprise you. Once again Steve Rogers does so when a breathtaking smile fills his face upon seeing you.  

“What do ya know,” you quip as you strut up to him, your heels making you just about eye level, “the man does own a suit, tie and all.” Playfully you tug on the dark navy fabric.

Steve scoffs, “You said suit so I assumed the whole ensemble would be expected.”

“Is this Prada?” You eye the perfectly cut lines, mouth watering just a touch. He was a damn fine specimen. “Impressive.”

“Being friends with a Stark does have its benefits.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” You hold your arm out to him, “Shall we?”

With a crooked smile on his face, he hooks his arm with yours, “Lead the way.”

The restaurant, one of DC’s hottest tickets at the moment, was only about half a block away. As the two of you make your way there heads turn. It’s not just because Captain America is out on a Saturday night either, together you cut an incredible image. Though keeping yourself hidden is usually a part of your M.O. you can’t help but feel a little pride.

There’s no sign above the place, either you knew it was here or you didn’t. As you walk up the door swings open revealing an open, modern, elegant setting.

Steve whispers into your ear, “This is one of those places where you leave hungry at the end isn’t it?”

“I’m almost offended.” One of the hosts takes your coat revealing the thin straps of your dress, your exposed chest, cleavage. Honestly, the thing was almost as criminal as you were.

“Careful there Steven, that’s a great way to catch a fly.” His slightly slack jaw snaps shut, blue eyes narrowing. You wink before turning to follow the hostess leading you to your table.

“It’s Steve,” he grumbles a bit, sounding like an angry boy and not a grown man in a five thousand dollar suit.

A genuine laugh tumbles from your crimson lips as you lazily sit in the proffered chair, legs crossing, the high front of the hem falling just between your thigh highs and holster. His Adam’s apple bobs hard in his throat as he takes his place across from you.

“What can I get you both to drink this evening?” The waiter asks, trying not to gawk, not that you could blame him, you’re sure it’s not every day he has Captain America at his table.

You respond before Steve can even look a the menu, “We’ll take a bottle of Merlot, pick whatever puts the most money in your pocket and,” you pluck a $100 from your clutch, “for your discretion.” He takes it and stares at you for a second. You give him a small wink too, “Thank you.”

“Thank YOU.” With that, he scurries off for the wine.

“Always so generous?” Steve takes a sip of water eyeing you.

“With service employees? Yes.” He raises his brows. “What? Can’t I be a benevolent criminal?”

“Is there such a thing?”

You shrug, “In my experience there is. Some of the most generous people I know make their money in nefarious ways.”

The waiter arrives with your wine. “Thanks,” Steve gives him a smile. As he does a server walks past with a skewer laden with red meat. “What kind of restaurant is this exactly?”

“It’s Brazilian steakhouse inspired.” Those words clearly meant nothing to him. “Basically they walk around and serve you meat until you beg them to stop.”

“Alright,” he nods, “I can get behind that.”

“Figured.” You sip the wine, its excellent. “I may have expensive taste but I grew up far too poor to blow money on four bites of food no matter how delicious.”

He laughs, “Tony took me someplace in New York… Everything was ‘deconstructed,’” he air quotes the word. “I honestly thought it was a joke. I had to stop for a slice after.”

“Yeah. Sounds like some rich kid shit.”

Taking a drink he nods in agreement. “So… not a rich kid.”

“Nope. Purebred third generation trailer trash.”

“From where?” You raise a brow over your glass. “Oh come on. You can read all about me online. I don’t even know your real name. Throw me a bone.”

“Fair.” You sigh, “Oklahoma.”

“Really?!”

“Yup. The land of corn, tornadoes, and disappointment.”

“That bad?”

“Worse,” you grimace and he laughs. “How’s life in DC?”

“Fine, I guess… You’ve probably seen more of it than I have.”

“It’s sad that I think you’re right.” He shrugs. “You could see it ya know?”

“You sound like Romanoff.”

“She sounds like good people.”

“You would probably think that. You’re likely cut from the same cloth.”

The servers come by and you both load up on incredible grilled meat and vegetables. He looks more than a little pleased. Your small talk continues on. It is actually pleasant and you just can’t bring yourself to drop your bomb just yet. Instead, you push it to the back of your mind.

After a bit, you decide to ask, “Any other prying questions for me?”

He looks shocked, “Plenty. But will you answer them?”

“Ask and find out,” your lips curl mischievously.

He slowly chews, a pensive expression on his face. “Alright…” Those blue eyes pierce you as he sips his wine. You feel… seen. It’s not uncomfortable but certainly not something you’re used to. “How do you go from, as you said, trailer trash, to this?” He gestures to you.

You think for a minute. “Determination.”

“That all I get?”

Maybe it’s his melancholy. Maybe is the way he looks in that suit. Regardless of the reason you decide... Fuck it.

“Well… I come from a place where you either get pregnant, get a scholarship, or get dog tags.” You take a sip of wine. “Never been very maternal, wasn’t good enough at anything for a scholarship, so I took door number three. One thing led to another and here we are.”

“YOU were a soldier?!”

“You do know the road from soldier to soldier of fortune is pretty short right?”

“I just… wouldn’t have guessed.”

An almost sad smile flickers across your face before you school your expression. “I will have you know I was a damn good soldier. One of the few women in combat infantry. Would have been special forces if the sexist fucks let me in.”

Steve nods in approval. “What rank?”

“Sargeant.”

Something flashes across his face at that but he says nothing. “How many tours?”

“Three.” His brows rise at this. “What? Said I was good at what I did. Thought that was going to be it for me.”

“What happened?”

You flag the waiter for another bottle of wine before answering. “They said don’t ask don’t tell.” You take a big gulp of wine, “Someone asked. I told.”

He takes a minute to sort that out before he realizes what you’re referring to. It’s just long enough for you to remember that old bitter feeling. “So you’re…”

“I’m all sorts of things, Cap.” You offer him a halfhearted grin. “At the time I happened to be with a woman. Thought she was gonna be it too. Turned out she was in it for the financial stability and good pussy-” he chokes a bit on his wine at that and you burst out laughing. “Anyway, when one of the two was gone so was she.”

“I’m sorry,” he lays his hand between you both.

Playfully you push it off the edge of the table, “Ancient history. Nothing to get mopey over.”

“Yeah. Well, good soldiers shouldn’t be treated as disposable.” Or good pussy, you almost fire back but you think you’ve shocked the old man enough.

“We were disposable.” He looks away from you at that. “Get rid of me there’s more desperate kids signing up every day.”

“Well… I guess that’s true. I was one of those desperate kids at one point too…”

“What were you desperate to get out of?”

He stares off into the distance for a long moment. “I was desperate to get in actually. It… seemed like the right thing to do… Whole world at war and whatnot. But… it was a different time.” Your eyes narrow as he shoves food in his mouth to avoid talking. After a bit he breaks, “What?”

“You’re right, I read all about you online. I’ve seen the before shots, read your biographies… Half of it, most of that golden boy rhetoric, is crap I have no doubt. Now you’re trying to tell me you only wanted to join the army just because it was the right thing… I call bullshit.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” You take a bite studying him. “You’re a fighter. You like the fight. I bet you always have, even when you were getting your ass kicked.”

“How would you know?”

You hold his gaze, “Because I’m the same.” Sighing you take a long drink. “All that wartime machismo and patriotism… you wanted to measure up. Maybe there was a righteous element to it but… yeah, I don’t buy that pure American hero serving his country shit.”

He looks like you slapped him before a smile spreads across his face, it’s a little sad but genuine. “Are your grandparents from Brooklyn by chance?”

You laugh, “Not that I’m aware of. Why?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. “You’re not wrong. I, uh… I did have something to prove.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Prove it?” So many emotions flicker across his face, you almost feel bad for asking.

“I don’t know honestly. All the people who could answer that are dead…” It takes him a moment to continue, “But… Hydra fell… we won… so I guess there’s that.”

Your stomach tightens and you set your fork down. “Well, this has turned distinctly depressing.” You wave down your waiter, “You still hungry?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m stuffed. It was delicious.”

“Good.” You fish some money from your bag and put it in the dazed waiter’s hand. It was unquestionably more than your tab. He looks like he’s going to protest but you shut him up with a look. In your line of work you never knew if you’d see the next day and you couldn’t take it with you so why not give it away.

You stand, “Come on.”

At the door they go to fetch your coat, “Actually,” you pause them, “could I pick that up tomorrow?”

“Of course!”

“Thanks.” The air outside is brisk but it’s kind of refreshing.

“Where exactly are we going?” Steve asks as he falls in line behind you. “Do you want my jacket?”

How cute, you smile at him, “I’m good. And we are going to have some fun.”

“Were we not before?” His grin is mischievous.

“Look I know you have a low bar for entertainment. Dinner is nice but it’s not fun.”

After a few blocks, you turn to him, “Do you like dancing?”

“Uh…” Suddenly he looks incredibly uncomfortable. “Not… really…”

“Too bad.” You tug him down an alley, the base notes already hitting your ears.

Just outside the club, he stops, “I really don’t think this is my kind of fun.” Lights flash into the dark alley lighting up the line of people waiting to get in.

“Have you ever been to a club?” You stand your ground, keeping him in place.

“Well… no…”

You lay a hand on his… incredibly solid chest, “Have I led you astray in your assimilation so far?” He rolls his eyes. “No, I haven’t. Trust me.”

“Fine. But I’m not dancing.”

“Sure,” you quip over your shoulder as you pull him to the door.

“Isn’t there a line?” He says in your ear.

“I have the universal VIP pass,” pulling a couple bills from your clutch and passing them to the bouncer who happily lets you in.

The music is so loud vibrating through your whole body. When you glance at Steve the grimace on his face makes a laugh soundlessly burst from you. He glances down and shakes his head, not understanding how this is fun. You pull him toward the dancefloor but he refuses, heading against the wall on the edge of the sea of bodies.

Conceding you hold your hands up and begin moving with the music, hips swaying, arms lifting. It takes moments before someone joins you, his hands sliding over your sides moving just barely. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t him you were interested in.

Steve watches you, occasionally looking at other dancers, the very image of out of place in his suit, arms crossed back leaned against the wall. Maybe this really wasn’t for him… He wasn’t insisting to leave though so you let yourself just feel the music.

After a few songs a woman on one of the raised platforms gets your attention, insisting you come up. It’s not far from Steve’s parking spot so you go with it. The bass starts hard and your bodies press close. You spin her in your arms, her head falls back onto your shoulder as she grinds against you in time with the music. Two men watch close to the platform and she beckons them up.

As you move with one of the men you notice Steve’s stepped away from the wall just a bit, his eyes on you. You hold his gaze. Slowly he makes his way toward your perch. You drop low, ignoring the whoop from your near forgotten dance partner at the move, his hands greedily grasping for you as you raise up. But Steve is at the edge of the platform.

His head is about at your pelvis as you stand before him, body still reacting to the music. You rest your hand on his head, fingers gripping his hair, gently tilting his head back as you swing your hips wide holding onto those blue eyes, flashing with the colors of the lights. His tongue flits out for just a second, moistening his pink lips. Once more you drop with the beat. Your free hand catches his tie as you rise.

Steve’s hands reach up, grabbing you just below your hip bones. As if you weigh nothing he lifts you off the platform setting you in front of him. There’s a self-satisfied look on his face, no doubt over your surprised expression that quickly morphs into a greedy grin.

You run your hands up his torso and over his chest. Slipping a finger under the knot of his tie you tug it lose until it hangs undone. Swaying to the music you undo a few of the buttons on his crisp white shirt, barely grazing the golden chest hair that peeks out. He slides the suit jacket off, tossing it over the crowd, obviously not caring that it’s easily worth two grand. You’d buy him another.

Resting your hands on his hips you coax him to move with the music. Again, he’s full of surprises, getting the hang of it quickly. You turn and press close to him, his hands gliding over you before holding at your swaying hips. Reaching back you hook a hand around his neck, head falling onto his shoulder. There’s nothing but the two of you and the music despite the press of the people around you. His breath on your neck making your heart stutter in your chest.

After two songs you’re about ready to have him right in the middle of this crowded dance floor if he’d let you. As much as you wish that could be the case you know better… you need to get yourself together.

Turning to face him you press your lips close to his ear. His hands run down your back, pulling you tight against him. It takes everything in you to say, “I’m going to the restroom. Be back,” rather than asking if he’d like to fuck you in the restroom. He nods and releases you. Unsurprisingly, he follows, leaning against the wall next to the narrow hall leading to the bathrooms.

You wet a paper towel with cold water, pressing it to your flushing chest and racing pulse. Staring at yourself in the mirror you silently coach yourself to get your head out of your ass. The two of you need to go someplace so you can tell him-

You’re so distracted you don’t notice the person behind you. Until your face slams into your reflection. The assailant lands a blow to the middle of your spine. You cry out, pain blossoming. Whirling you grab their wrist before the knife can plunge into you.

“Bitch you ruin this dress I’ll gut you.” The knife clatters to the floor, your hand twisting the wrist back with a jerk. They swing, fist meeting your jaw. Stumbling they throw you through the swinging door back first. The wall catches you. Reaching under your skirt you pull one of your pistols free and let loose a shot. It misses, barely, despite you hardly aiming. The shock has its desired effect and they’re distracted.  

Screams react to the sound of the shot and you bolt for the exit at the end of the hall. You sprint into the alley for an instant before something sharp and burning buries itself in your upper thigh causing you to drop to your knees. In an instant they’re on you, arm choking you. Without luck, you try to fling them off but they’ve got weight on you and you can’t get purchase.

Your head is beginning to float from lack of oxygen when they’re pulled off you. Falling onto your hands you gasp for air, coughing. Before you can turn they’re thrown down the alley, slamming hard into the dumpster. Seemingly unconscious they slump to the ground.

“Zelda!” Steve kneels before you gripping your shoulders. “Are you ok?!”

You cock an eyebrow, about to make a snarky comment when you see the guy rise to his feet, gun drawn, aimed at Steve. Reflexively you grab the pistol on your other thigh and shoot, aim perfect, the bullet nestled between the man’s brows.

Steve jerks up and stares, noticing the gun as it falls from the man’s grip. His eyes turn back to you, filled with questions. “Better now.” You offer a crooked smile and rise to your feet groaning.

He steadies you as you reach to your leg and pull out the blade. “Fuck,” you hiss between your teeth tossing it to the side. A few civilians are at the mouth of the alley, gawking at the scene. Great.

“I’ve gotta call this in,” he reaches for his phone.

“Of course you do,” you grumble, slipping out of your heels before the right one fills with blood.

-

As you support yourself against the wall, taking the weight off your injured leg, Steve dials Romanoff. He lays out the situation, she assures him it can be dealt with.

“Not the first time an agent’s had a bar fight go bad, Rogers,” she laughs.

“That’s not the situation. We also need a medic, someone has-” he turns to look at you and… of fucking course you’re gone. “Never mind. They’re fine.”

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4@piensa-bonito @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @siriuslycloudy2 

[tarithenurse]

Space Nurse 5/?

Fandom(s): Men in Black & MCU! Pairing: (Wait and see) x fem!reader Contents: Probably some cussing and slight bit of angsting. A/N: switching from 1st person PoV in the diary, we now get to enjoy some 2nd pers PoV “live action”! Leave me an ask or reblog to be added to the tag list...even if my writing will be slowing down considerably now that I have to prep for last internship’s exam.

From Nightingale to Sci-Fi

You’re unable to finish the breakfast due to the nauseating anticipation of what’s to come. Good thing you’ll be tending humans the first while, at least their physiology isn’t new to you. Nooo, only all the things they can suffer from in their line of work! You’re far from rested after having spent the entire night studying alien parasites and whatnot. It explains the frequent physicals they need to go through.

Abandoning your futile attempts at finishing the yoghurt with muesli, you stash the tray in the rack and turn around to head off only to nearly slam into the solid shape dressed in a black suit with matching tie which seems to soften and lighten his skin. Looking up into the smiling face of agent Jay, you gravity that tries to pull you stumbling backwards, minimizing the movement to a soft sway.

“Easy there, newbie,” Jay grins as he slips an arm around your waist to steady you, “didn’t mean to scare ya’.”

Slinking out of his steady hold (and tearing your gaze away from his endless eyes), it’s easy enough to deny his claim and if he doesn’t believe you…well at least he doesn’t say it.

“Spend most mornings trying to sneak up on…newbies?” The words fall testily over your lips.

When Jay smirks it makes his feathery moustache tremble. “Nah, only the one’s I’ve been told to assess.”

The two of you’ve started walking and you vaguely recognize the path that leads to the locker room. He’s a relatively tall man, at least compared to yourself and you’re not exactly the tiniest person. Even so, there’s nothing unsettling about walking next to him because nothing about his person carries the air of the other cold and anonymous agents you’ve encountered so far.

“There’ll be one from either bureau evaluatin’ ya work and skills every day. I’ve been tasked to represent Men in Black. Doctor Cho was supposed to be the delegation from Shield and –“

“Wait.” Pausing briefly to look at the friendly face to make sure you didn’t mishear. “There’re two fractions at play?”

By the time Jay finishes explaining about Strategic Homeland-something-or-other and Men in Black, your mind’s fuzzy with semi-political history. Your new acquaintance isn’t clear on who knew about the extra-terrestrials first, but it’s apparent that MiB have specialized on the field and it was a director of SHIELD, a guy called Fury, that arranged for a meeting to build a cooperation. One day, rumour goes, he was sitting in the office of “Alpha”, the chief of Jay’s organisation.

“So…I’m not actually part of neither Men in Black or SHIELD?” Pulling out a set of scrubs from an automated dispenser, you continue into the locker room.

Maybe he doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t care, because he follows dutifully. “Nah, durin’ the trial period y’are in neutral territory. Once assessed, we decide which agency ya’ll fit with, ya know…skills, temper, shit like tha’.”

“Don’t I have a say in it?” you ask, brows raised although he can’t see it because you’ve got the back to him and your head halfway into your locker.

Kicking off shoes, there’s no sign the man will leave, and you decide to change while he keeps talking.

“Ya want a say in – oh okay, we’re doin’ that!” You hear him shuffle about and a glance verifies that he’s turned away. “It’s not that I mind, ya see. Nothin’ wrong with…with…ahm…” The shadows of flailing hands doesn’t provide him with the needed vocabulary. “Aaaanyways! So…erm…well if ya got any preferences, we’ll be happy to hear ‘em.”

The scrubs from the hospital back home used to be white, maybe with navy leggings depending on the model, so it looks odd to you with the pastel yellow. I’m like an Easter chicken! Baggy pants and unshapely t-shirt, at least both have huge pockets for pens, notebooks with charts and vitals, and much more that you’ve come to learn is handy to have nearby during a shift. Pushing the locker-door shut with a dull clang, you straighten up and breathes in deeply in the hope that it’ll steady the nerves once and for all.

“Let’s do this.”

…

With doctor Helen Cho gone one of the people responsible for your introduction (though apparently only for a little while) is a young SHIELD-scientist although her expertise lies in biochemistry, making her less of an obvious choice to work in the infirmary in much the same way Helen’s focus on genetics does. But doctor Simmons in kind and brilliant, and she willingly explains that most of the doctors at this facility aren’t “ordinary” doctors due to the special needs any disease or injury related to extra-terrestrials require. As such, it’s up to you and the handful of other nurses to cover the gap between the professions.

No pressure. Sure, you’ve done your fair share of stiches and cleaning wounds...but you’re no surgeon, of course, and as your mind lists all the manners your expertise can be insufficient you feel your heart fall. Even though you’d been surprised to be offered this job (and since then shocked to find out what it entails), you don’t want to be deemed unworthy. Damnit, you bicker at yourself, if I gotta leave it’ll be me walking out as a protest.

…

You don’t leave that day. Instead, the time is spend doing regular checkups and collecting blood and urine samples from the many (human) employees that have been called in in advance. Some of the equipment might be fancier than at your old job, but the procedures are perfectly familiar, putting you at each and freeing your mind to make small talk with the military personnel which apparently are being checked these days.

A few of the faces are recognizable from the hallways or the cafeteria, there’s even a set of twins (whom you’ve assumed was actually just one very busy guy) that recognizes you from the gym. Red hair and brown eyes equally aflame with joy barely able to mask a glimmer of mischief when they each in turn offer you to join them for training or company at meal time. After seeing the second out, you take the liberty of noting down their names just in case you take them up on their offer.

And so, the day passes surprisingly quickly with you in one room together with the “patients” and agent Jay and doctor Simmons, the two people who has a power over your future, in the lab except when they decide to check up on you or stop by to give you a message. No one joins you for lunch, and by the time the day ends, you’re thankful that neither of the two leaves with you even if it means walking the halls alone.

…

You’ve had an hours rest before needing to be ready for the daily torture at the hands of the trio in charge of your training. Dragging your sorry ass and buzzing mind to the gym, getting insulted and yelled at is the last thing you feel like because even if the day technically speaking has been simple, getting used to a new work place is taking its toll mentally.

Dropping the little towel and water bottle in the treadmill’s holders, you know the first part of the training session you’ll be left mostly alone as long as you don’t run too slow. A few beeps with the buttons starts the preprogrammed, torturous, cardio workout.

15 minutes in, and your lungs are burning as though someone’s filled them with acid, forcing your body to work on anaerobic metabolism and sheer stubbornness. Breathe in while left-right-left, breathe out while right-left-right. On and on, the mantra drones while the empty gaze stays fixed on the barren wall at the other side of the room. Just a…bit more. You know you’re lying to yourself, but it’s easier to handle one more minute at a time than all 15 at once.

By the time the machine slows to a halt, some unknown deity must have taken pity on you to prevent your legs from giving out under you. Wiping the sweat away with the little towel (and stifling a groan of discouragement), the only goal is to drag out the time before one of the three buddies turns their attention to you.

“Hey, [Y/N]. Right?”

The cheery voice right behind you makes you snap around so fast you nearly trip yourself, and four hands shoot out to steady you. What was their names again?

“Woops,” the other twin smiles (or maybe it’s the same that spoke before), “didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Heh. Nono, you didn’t,” you lie with a half-hearted smile, “I was just erm…mentally far away.”

The one you think might be Sean looks solemnly around the boring gym. The place is styled á la minimalist institution with once-white concrete walls and linoleum in some uncanny greenish hue that looks more like mold than anything you ought to have indoors.

“Next time…please bring me along.” The sigh would seem honest if it wasn’t for the twinkle in the brown eyes.

“Oï!” Of course, his brother (possibly named Ian, depending on who’s who) isn’t about to miss out on anything as he elbows his way closer, sending maybe-Sean slightly off balance. “Anything particular in mind? Otherwise I’ll show you the good places around here, just say the word!”

Their enthusiasm and smiles are contagious, rekindling a happiness that has otherwise been dampened since you left home. You’re just about to answer, accepting the offer in the need of having some sort of friends in this foreign place, when Costa sidles over with a brow arched in disapproval. Clad in shorts and a sports bra, showing almost all of her toned body, you’re reminded of the inferior status thrust upon you – and for obvious reasons when it comes to physical prowess. If it was only that, at least. But no. Of course, this warrior-lady somehow manages to look gorgeous and be smart too, and a pang of mixed emotions in your chest prompts you to look away.

“What’ve we got here?” The slightly nasal Caribbean dialect is honeyed. Too honeyed. “The havoc-twins are trying to sabotage my recruit?”

“Ma’am, no, ma’am.” Both guys’ drain in the split second it takes before they answer in unison.

Smoldering eyes turn frosty, freezing the guys and you to the spot. “Good. I won’t tolerate anything but perfection, and if you mess with my work, I’ll make you regret it. We clear?!”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” You bite your tongue not to answer with Sean and Ian.

“You can have her when I’m done.” Costa’s words sends a new wave of heat to your cheeks for no reason you should be thinking of. “Now move.”

Watching the twins scurry off, you wait silently for the punishing rant that must be brewing for you.

Nothing.

No harsh words or degrading comments slip Costa’s lips while she instructs you on the use of some equipment meant to exercise arms and chest. Oh no, her punishment is way more refined, much crueler. From one machine to the next, she pushes you beyond the limits you thought you had in a gruelling manner where raw strength and endurance are brought to the test until you literally pass out, losing your grip on an elastic cord as you slump unto the floor. Weather it’s the sharp whip against your face from the equipment or the impact with the linoleum that wakes you, well that’s impossible to tell. Either way, it’s the burning humiliation that hurts the most as you try to focus on the face of your tormentor.