#back on her spy agenda !!

[welcometoteyvat]

arlecchino's official title is "father" when house of hearth members refer to her ......... please just one chance please please

[bitchtakes]

                            “ no,  no.  there  isn't  much  that's  interesting  about  me,  i  promise.  i  just  .  .  .  you  know,  work  and  come  here  to  help  out  the  cause  .  .  .  and  all  that  kewl  -  ness.  but !  by  all  means,  tell  me  about  yourself ! ” @animusvenenatus

[poptartmochi]

it is 4am so i am once again debating if it would be evil of me to give Maggie red hair

[delirious-donna]

The Duality of Men [Part Five]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: Being cooped up all day with Kento isn't as easy as it sounds. Time to tempt the stick in the mud out for a drink. What could go wrong?

pairings: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: suggestive, mentions of previous masturbation, humour, two idiots pining, mentions of alcohol, toxic male behaviour (not Kento), misunderstandings, white knight Kento, also very oblivious Kento

Part Four | Series Masterlist | Part Six

The morning dawned–bright and fresh. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the events of the previous evening almost felt like some lucid dream rather than reality. Only the dull ache that remained between your thighs served as a reminder of your toying fingers. Whilst you might have found release, it was temporary at best, and the encounter with Kento in the kitchen had only served to rekindle your desire for the man who was quickly becoming less of a stranger to you.

In an attempt to occupy your mind, turning it onto more pressing matters other than the slew of questions about the stoic male—his interests, occupation, and preferences in a far more intimate manner—you decided that focusing on schoolwork would be for the best.

That was how you came to find yourself seated in one of the two tall chairs that lined one side of the kitchen island, your coursework spread out in a sea of paper and textbooks. It was an organised mess, or so you would say, others might disagree, but it worked for you and that was all that mattered. Or it might have been had it not been for the appearance of your host.

Kento shuffled into the kitchen, his hair dishevelled from sleep and yawning widely. A glance at the clock told you it was an early start to the day for someone who was meant to be on vacation. He reached his arms overhead into a delicious looking stretch, and paused when his eyes blinked open to spy you fully dressed with a pen between your teeth.

“Morning,” he offered once he too glanced at the clock with a slight squint. It made you wonder if he needed glasses and if so, why didn’t he wear them? His voice was gruff, laden with sleep, and you did your best not to squirm at the effect it caused in your stomach. “You’re awake early, no?”

“I could say the same to you. Didn’t you say you were on mandated vacation? Oh, and good morning. There is coffee in the pot if you’d like some?” You added, leaning your cheek onto your fist whilst you admired him, emboldened by the knowledge he wasn’t awake enough to notice.

He grunted in response. Deliberately not looking whilst you smacked your pen against your pursed lips, and instead made a beeline to the source of caffeine that had roused him from his slumber in the first place. He admired your dedication at being awake to study so early. The question of what you were studying tickled the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. The more he knew, the harder it would be to keep his distance as he had vowed to himself.

Lazing in bed wasn’t on his agenda, it would be a waste of time when he could be reading or getting in a morning run on the treadmill. Perhaps in another life, he would have savoured the idea of remaining nestled within warm sheets, the morning sun streaming across the rumpled bed from the gap in the curtains, and… He paused, knowing that his mind was conjuring another body beside him, one that was across the room from him.

A distraction was what he needed.

“You study like… this?” Kento asked, nose wrinkled in distaste.

The pen in your hand was no longer gently patting at your lips, it was smacking hard against the marble counter edge and his eyebrow quirked at your clear irritation. He fought the smile that tried to rise, wisely hiding it behind his mug whilst he took another long sip.

“It… makes sense to me.” Your eyes narrowed, shifting your hips forward on the chair to lean over the counter, pen wagging in admonishment.

Kento held up his unoccupied hand in surrender, not wishing to cause you any further annoyance and longing for a slice of solitude that he wasn’t going to find in here. “Let me get out of your hair, I wouldn’t wish to distract you from your studies.”

You scowled after him, annoyed at yourself for finding that you were fixated on the dips at his lower back and the way his muscles shifted and bunched as he moved away and out of sight. It was far worse in the clear morning light; you could no longer fool yourself into believing that the broad expanse of his shoulders and the strength of his torso was simply a trick of the low lighting. It was simply him, and you rested your head on your folded arms while you processed that nugget of information.

The rest of the morning was spent in some semblance of peaceful cohabitation. Kento contented himself with running in his home gym, earbuds in place and you wondered what kind of music he enjoyed on your trip to the bathroom, peeking inside only for a moment before darting away, scared to be caught.

It wasn’t until lunchtime approached that he reemerged into the living room, fully dressed in a cream sweater and navy trousers.

By this point, you were curled up into the far corner of the couch with a book in hand. Whilst peeking over the top, you watched as he manoeuvred around the kitchen to make lunch. You must have read the same passage at least a dozen times and still, the words wouldn’t sink in. It wasn’t until he turned to eat, that he froze–plate in hand.

Of course, your coursework was still splayed out and possibly looking even more disorderly than before if that was at all possible. You waited, counting internally for the snarky comment, but as you reached fifteen… you glanced at him again.

“Are you really standing over the sink to eat?”

“I’m sure you have a suggestion as to what I should do instead,” he sighed in resignation with the plate balanced on his palm and half his sandwich clutched in his other hand.

“You could, y’know, sit on the couch like a normal person,” you chided with a roll of your eyes. “Or are you that afraid of crumbs that you’d rather stand over there?”

If truth be told, he did despise crumbs and unnecessary dirt. However, he wasn’t about to get into it with you about something you’d find trivial and likely tease him over. As if accepting your challenge, he marched stiffly to the other end of the couch from you and rested his plate precariously on his knees to finish his sandwich. His forehead wrinkled into a scowl, and you fought the urge to tell him to ease up or he’d prematurely wrinkle his face. Something told you he wouldn’t take too kindly to such an accusation.

Unfortunately, the calm of the morning didn’t last into the afternoon. For such a spacious apartment it felt awfully cramped when the two of you tried to focus on your individual interests. It was like walking on eggshells and your nerves were on a razor's edge for no good reason. More often than not you found yourself studying the uptight man rather than reviewing your seminar notes.

Nanami prowled from room to room like a caged predator, one that was not accustomed to enforced captivity and was losing its sanity with each continued tick of the kitchen clock. You were certain he had sat on every part of the couch, first seemingly engrossed in the newspaper delivered to his door but it didn’t last. Before you knew it he was back on his feet and standing at the panoramic window with both hands clasped behind his back.

He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, ignoring the beautiful sight of the late afternoon sun turning dark and fiery across the city. It would have been what you studied in his position but no, Kento watched the hundreds of commuters down on the streets. Was he… envious?

It appeared that way and he only strengthened the idea when he huffed, leaving a cloud of breath against the clean glass and turned on his heel to retrieve his discarded newspaper. The crisp pages snapped apart harshly under his grip and you nearly laughed at what you could only describe as rage reading.

You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time and threw down your pen in defeat. After stretching your arms overhead and rotating your stiff wrists, you gathered your courage and rounded on the man who couldn’t settle into anything remotely relaxing.

“Wanna go grab a drink?”

Kento paused on the sentence he had already read ten times over. Was he hearing you correctly? “Pardon?”

Hopping down from the stool you’d sat at for most of the day, you approached slowly and shrugged. “It’s been a long day and I think we could both use a drink to relax us a bit.”

Why would you need to relax? He was the one wound tighter than a spring-loaded toy but he couldn’t even blame you, not rationally anyway. You’d spent the day studying diligently, only breaking to stretch your limbs, refill your water bottle or read your book. A book he was unfamiliar with, squirrelling away the title and author to look up later.

After his morning run and shower, the day had slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. No matter how tightly he tried to cling to them, the minuscule grains escaped through the cracks until the hours were lost and he felt a sick sensation in his stomach. He tried not to consider the accounts he could have handled had he been in the office, or the clients he could have snared if he’d been permitted to admit the conference as planned. It wasn’t worth the turmoil it caused.

“I have a well-stocked liquor cabinet and there is wine in the fridge if it’s a drink you’d like,” he offered, moving closer to you and ignoring the desire to splay his hand at the small of your back to guide you towards his prized collection.

You shuffled your feet looking decidedly more nervous. His head cocked in curiosity, noting your habit to chew on your lips. He bet they tasted sweet.

“Kento… can we get out of the apartment? I bet there are a few nice bars around here, and well… c’mon, I don’t want to go alone.”

He may as well have sighed at the sound of his name on your lips for the second time. You might not know it, but he would have agreed to just about anything at that moment. For that reason alone, he found himself perched on a bar stool in a noisy but thankfully well-lit bar a few streets away from the apartment complex.

Your face was a picture of excitement, and he laughed discreetly whilst you leant on the bar waiting for the bartender to notice and take your order. Kento did his best not to appreciate how your light blue jeans hugged your backside, averting his eyes to admire the décor instead. He scolded his rapidly diminishing restraint, feeling more like a hormonal young man than he did when he was a hormonal young man.

“Vodka cranberry please, light on the ice. What would you like, Kento? It’s my treat.”

Oh hell no. He wasn’t about to let a student pay for his drink, no matter the circumstances. Meeting the eye of the young man behind the counter, he bristled at the amusement that was evident in his expression.

“Laphroaig, neat. Make it a double, please,” he rattled off whilst fishing his card from the wallet in his back pocket. At his side, you were beginning to protest, tugging on his sleeve and damn near bouncing on your stool. The bartender nodded and wisely chose to remain silent as he accepted the card and hurried away to fulfil the order.

“Nanami, I said I was going to pay!”

Kento huffed. “So, I’m Nanami again… where did Kento go?”

Two glasses were set down on folded paper napkins and it was enough to distract you, your fingers slipping free from his sweater. The amused bartender returned Nanami’s card with a receipt and discreetly moved away. Another wise decision.

“You’re a student and I am not. End of discussion,” he said with enough finality in his voice that you nearly acquiesced–nearly.

You couldn’t help but gawk at him in incredulity. Was he so unaccustomed to such gestures that he didn’t realise this was your attempt to say thank you for letting you stay in his apartment? He swallowed a long sip of his whisky that you had already forgotten the name of, but you were sure was extremely expensive. His Adam’s apple bobbed and your mouth ran dry.

“It was meant to be a thank you, dummy,” you groused, pouting as you raised your straw to your lips and sipped the crimson concoction you’d ordered. “Y’know, for letting me stay at your place?”

“Did you know that you say y’know rather a lot?”

Blinking, you met his hazel eyes and nearly whimpered at the warm glow that shone from their depths. It was like standing before a roaring fire, logs popping merrily from the leaping flames and they had a way of making you feel… special. His face softened when he teased you like this, with no scowls wrinkling his face. For a man who was definitely manly–all sharp jaw and angular cheekbones–those mischievous eyes cast a boyish charm over him and you found yourself leaning closer, your elbow resting on the bar until he cleared his throat and looked away.

Thankfully, you were able to navigate the rough seas of casual conversation without incident. Kento spoke about his work with a passion that didn’t seem likely for what sounded like a rather mundane office job. You teased him for his dedication and the long hours he spent behind a desk with limited social interaction. He took it well, or perhaps it was the alcohol that loosened him up.

His cheeks were warming nicely whilst the bar picked up around you. The steady stream of corporate slaves traipsed in and out with colleagues in tow looking to warm their bellies with a drink or two before the final trek home. Kento spoke fondly of his sister and told you enough embarrassing stories from their childhood that the simmering hurt from not even knowing Karin had a brother, melted away.

The atmosphere was a pleasant one and Kento was a pleasure to converse with when he wasn’t acting like he had a stick up his butt. In fact, it was surprisingly fun to goad him into huffing and puffing at whatever nonsense took your fancy, simply to see him stiffen and frown, his chest barrelling in indignation until he realised you were baiting him and easily so.

Kento couldn’t recall a time he enjoyed more than this one right now. He was never one for taking up the invites from colleagues to go bar hopping on a Friday night, often staying late in the office and catching up on emails rather than drinking himself into a stupor. Only now did he wonder if he was missing out on something better than what he thought would be no more than a nasty headache and clouded memories. Perhaps, if the right people—or person—it could be enjoyable.

You were funny, animated and scathing but not in a cruel way, or at least that was his interpretation. He appreciated your wit and your unique take on the world caused more than one or two belly laughs, which were worth it just to see how your face lit up in reaction. You were clever too, always quick off the mark when he deliberately tried to trip you up and honestly… he was falling.

Love was far too soon to even consider but mild infatuation? Maybe.

With your drinks now empty, he asked if you would like another and after giving an enthusiastic nod, he ordered two more before standing to find the restroom. The solitude gave you a moment to collect your thoughts, staring into the depths of the polished bar edge as you wondered how to proceed. You liked him, that couldn’t be denied now but it still felt too soon, not to mention the guilt you felt over lusting after your best friend’s brother.

Your reverie was interrupted when fresh drinks were set in front of you and a presence settled by your side. Glancing sideways you expected to find Kento but it wasn’t him. A young man in his early twenties smirked at you, swiping a hand through his slicked-back black hair. He was suited and booted like the majority of the patrons but you stiffened instinctively with how closely he leaned into you.

“Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?” He offered, clearly ignoring the fresh set of drinks under your nose whilst his arm draped over the back of your chair. The tips of his fingers brushed your shoulder, making you shudder and twist your torso away so he could no longer reach.

“No thanks. I have a drink and that seat is taken.” You pointed to the one he was occupying after lifting both drinks in what you hoped was an obvious show of disinterest.

The man laughed; a dirty smoker’s laugh that raised the hairs on your arms and roiled the contents of your stomach. “C’mon, sweetheart, don’t lie. Liars aren’t as cute as you. I bet you bought both drinks so no one bothered you, right? I’m too smart to fall for that, all the girls are doing that these days.”

Every warning sign and alarm blared obnoxiously loud inside your head. If your instincts hadn’t tipped you off, his words certainly did. You were not the first woman to be subjected to his unwanted presence and you prayed that no one had fallen victim to his overbearing advances.

Undeterred by your previous movement to escape his touch, the man turned his body into you and this time, instead of trying to put his arm around your shoulder, he landed a heavy palm on your thigh. You openly grimaced at the unsolicited move, brushing his hand away and crossing your legs. Any sensible man would understand this as a sign to quit but of course, he seemed to only take it as some kind of sick challenge.

“Someone’s a little frigid. Let me warm you up a bit, I promise to be gentle,” he sneered, showing teeth stained from years of cigarettes and lacklustre oral hygiene.

You caught the eye of the bartender, he was watching closely and you were grateful that he was attentive.

Your mouth snapped open to retort sarcastically about his lack of perception skills, but at that moment the bartender, who you considered your safety net, moved away to the other end of the bar to serve a new customer.

What you didn’t know was that the man behind the bar knew that you were completely safe, he had seen what you had not. Nanami Kento was striding across the room and he was pissed.

At first, he had waited to see how you reacted to the man and his clear advances, unsure if you were into this kind of thing or not, but the second he could see your grimace and how your entire body leaned away from the man in his seat, fire filled his veins. The very second he touched you without invitation and continued to advance when it was obvious you weren’t interested, he saw red.

He would never understand the self-righteousness of some men, and their seeming belief that all women were fair game if they tried hard enough. It was not foreign to him, and this wasn’t the first time he stepped in to ensure the safety of a woman, often women he didn’t even know. This time was different and he was consumed with both rage and confusion at his reaction.

You weren’t his, he reminded himself as he stopped behind the man still leering at you.

A dark shadow fell over your harasser and your head snapped up at the same moment the man glanced around when someone tapped his shoulder. Nanami’s face was twisted with barely restrained fury, a thick vein popped on his temple and you gasped as the heavy waves of anger crashed outward from his stance. It was potent stuff, enough to tighten your chest when the edges licked at you just for being so close to the source.

Kento appeared broader, taller, and more angular. It must have been a trick of the light, but your heart pounded all the same. You weren’t even watching the man suddenly swallow dryly in the wake of Kento’s fury, no, you couldn’t rip your eyes away from him. The second heartbeat from the previous night was returning with vigour and you crossed your legs to draw your thighs tighter together.

“Leave.”

One single word imbued with enough power and natural dominance the man turned tail and ran for the door without even a backward glance.

“Are you alright?” Kento asked, retaking his seat and throwing back half his drink in one swallow. You watched as he sucked his teeth, his fingers digging into his eyes as if he were suddenly weary of the entire world. Not until he turned to you in question, gaze searching your face with uncertainty did you realise you hadn’t answered.

It was your turn to swallow the runny saliva in your mouth. “Yes… yes, don’t worry. He was a jerk but it could have been worse. I mean, it doesn’t happen often—”

“It shouldn’t happen at all,” he interjected.

“I know, but it’s okay.”

He grimaced but said no more. His anger was still palpable, but once where the flames had licked at you for daring to be too close, they now seemed to cocoon around the pair of you and it was a comfort. A comfort you fought against leaning into, failing when your frame swayed closer and your eyelids sagged.

The thought of how you might act if he were your man rose like oil on water, swirling images of clutching the front of his expensive cream sweater to pull him into a kiss that demonstrated a sliver of your gratitude. The kaleidoscope of colours shifted to the interior of his apartment, kicking hastily out of shoes whilst your tongues tangled and your hands roamed with abandon. Decadent heat caressed your chest, prickling your skin and causing you to squirm in your seat, all to the carefully guarded gaze of Kento.

He didn’t know what to make of your sudden shift in demeanour. You were jittery where you once had been perfectly comfortable, he wondered if perhaps you were experiencing a delayed reaction to what had transpired but what he didn’t expect was for you to reach out and run a finger along his forearm.

It was a bold move and one that you didn’t fully think through before you were in full flow. To hell with being Karin’s brother, you wanted to take the chance of seeing if you were compatible. He was ticking more and more boxes the longer you remained in his company and honestly, you wanted to know if he’d loosen up for you if given the right incentive.

“Do you make a habit of coming to the rescue of damsels in distress?”

His nostrils flared and immediately you knew that these were not the right words to use. “Don’t… I’m not interested in pity.”

All you could do was stare, slack-jawed at the absolute stupidity of this man. Did he honestly think you were the type to come on to any guy that came to your rescue? The anger that leaked from Kento seeped into you, fuelling your own and you puffed your chest in response. The man was dense, that much was clear but it was the slight against your assumed reasoning that bothered you the most.

“Are you for real? You think I would do this to just anyone that came along and helped me out of a bad situation?” You hissed through clenched teeth, letting your anger surround you like armour.

Nanami blinked, once and then again. He loathed to be seen as some heroic white knight figure, especially when he didn’t feel like one. Doing the bare minimum should not be praised, not when it is the very least all decent humans should be doing. It wasn’t the first time a woman had tried to proposition him after he chased some creep off, but it was the first time when he actually knew the woman in question.

Perhaps he misread the situation, yet that couldn’t be true either because that would mean that you were interested in him and most likely from before he had returned from the restroom. His head was pounding and it had nothing to do with the music in the bar or the alcohol that filled his stomach.

“I don’t–”

The legs of your chair scraped across the floor as you pushed up and out, halfway towards the door before he could even react to your hasty exit. It was your turn to be pissed and boy did you let it show. A couple leapt apart as they blocked your exit, and Kento was quick to down the final swallow of his whisky and threw down some cash on the bar before jogging after you.

You heard your name being called and knew that he was right on your heels. The feeling of foolishness made you want to cry and that only intensified how furious you were. How dare he make assumptions like that without warrant. A hand caught beneath your elbow and you whirled around only to be met with those uncertain eyes once more. Exhaling deeply through your nose, you reined in your temper and waited.

“I’m sorry?” Kento said, dropping his hand away from your elbow and rubbing at his neck sheepishly.

“Are you? Sorry, that is, because that sounded like a question to me. If you don’t mean it, don’t say it.” You tapped your foot against the pavement, holding his stare with unwavering determination not to be the first to look away.

“I made an assumption and that was wrong of me. This isn’t… it's not the first time I’ve been spoken to like that and I reacted out of instinct.”

“Yeah, well, I bet they hadn’t…” You clapped a hand across your mouth, startled by what you very nearly admitted and so casually too.

As quickly as your anger arrived, it dissipated just as fast. Instead, you were overcome with the memory of bedsheets twisted around your knees and your fingers busy between your thighs. You throbbed, remembering how you imagined Kento’s handsome face between your thighs, his chin and mouth swollen and sticky from the mess he’d made, and your fingers tangled in his hair to encourage him.

The image of your fantasy Kento blurred with the man standing in front of you looking perplexed. How on earth could you have nearly admitted stuffing yourself with your fingers whilst thinking of him and what it might be like if you invited him into your bed? It was comical, really it was.

“Hadn’t what?” Kento asked in confusion, if not at the sentence you left hanging then the way you seemed to double over as if you were in pain. You waved away his attempts to step closer, and he wasn’t certain if what he heard was a delirious giggle or a noise of anguish. What hadn’t those other women done that you had? There were a hundred possibilities surely, and yet, what popped into his head was the sticky mess he had made last night whilst thinking of you.

No, it couldn’t be that… it would be stupid to even think that you might have both sought relief whilst so close yet so far, only a wall keeping you apart. It was wishful thinking on his part, or so he thought. The way you burst into spontaneous laughter gave him further pause. He was grateful when you straightened and bumped your shoulder into his arm, and walked with him back to the apartment. Your anger forgotten and the atmosphere between you clearer than it had been moments ago.

But what if..?

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

spellbound: spy

epilogue/bonus ch!

masterlist

you knock on megumi's door, your heartbeat ringing loudly in your ears. you're not sure why you're so nervous. you and him have been dating for a few weeks now, but you can't help it. just the mere idea of him is enough to wake the butterflies in your stomach. It's odd to think of how you used to mistake these feelings for hatred. but you two are beyond that now; that part of your lives is over. megumi opens the door with a grin on his face, and it's off-putting to anyone but you—he can't not smile around you anymore.

"hey megs-"

your sentence is interrupted by him cupping your face and fervently locking his lips with yours. kissing you as hungrily and urgently, if not even more, as he did the night you confessed. you push him off of you.

"jeez, can you at least let me say hi first, stalker?"

"sorry," he says flippantly, not actually sorry at all, as his face flushes bright pink.

"so what's on the agenda today?" you ask as you walk past him into his house. "some more horror movies, maybe-"

megumi stops you in your tracks by grabbing you by your waist, his arms wrapping around you, and drawing you into him, your back flush against his chest. "are you gonna kiss me back yet? you already said hi."

"you're awfully affectionate today, megs." you swivel around in his hold to face him, pushing a few strands of his hair out of his face as you entreat, "let me guess yuji and nobara aren't home?"

megumi sheepishly averts his attention to the floor.

"knew it. I have to practically fight you just to get a kiss when they're here."

"it's embarrassing..."

you gawk, feigning offense. "oh, so loving me is embarrassing?"

his gaze snaps back to your face, worried you're serious, but when he sees the shit-eating grin you're adorning, megumi rolls his eyes. "ok, you know what I meant. stop it."

"I know," you say cheerfully, before finally leaning in and giving him what he wants—sort of. you purposely pull away the moment you feel him melt into and deepen the kiss.

"now chop chop, these movies won't watch themselves!"

"I hate you."

"oh, I'm sure you do, stalker."

☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆

Inumaki, nobara, and yuji are all giggling like crazy as maki unlocks the door, while yuuta attempts to shush them, considering it’s late and they are trying to be stealthy here.

with the door now unlocked, maki doesn’t open it; instead, she turns around and scolds, “can you guys shut up?”

“oh, cmon, babe, aren’t you excited? we’re about to catch megumi and y/n being all lovey-dovey!” nobara pouts, suddenly hanging onto her girlfriend's arm like a koala.

"well, we’re not gonna catch anyone if you guys don’t be quiet,” yuuta quips under his breath.

maki nods. "thank you, yuuta.”

"you guys are no fun, oh my god,” Inumaki says through a quiet groan.

“for real!” yuji exclaims, slightly exasperated. “we didn’t suffer through weeks of them being insufferable just for us to never see them happy together!”

“do you think maybe this is why,” maki says, unimpressed.

“maki, my love, shut up,” nobara gruffs before placing a chaste kiss on maki’s cheek. "you're literally an accomplice right now, so don’t pretend you’re not trying to catch them being losers either... now open the door, cmon we’re wasting time!”

"yeah, megumi has probably already sensed our presence by now,“ yuji whines.

yuuta’s brows knit together, looking and sounding slightly concerned as he asks, “what?”

yuji shrugs nonchalantly. "yeah, I don't know; he has like a sixth sense.”

maki rolls her eyes. “or maybe it’s because you guys aren't discreet at all.”

“oh my fucking god, maki, just open the damn door,” Inumaki snaps. “all this yapping, and for what?”

nobara nods. “yeah, babe, listen to Inumaki.”

“dear lord, help us all,” maki murmurs quietly as she turns back toward the door.

the three of them are all attempting to control their giggles as maki and yuuta eye each other. yuuta merely shrugs, and maki sighs before quietly opening the front door. Immediately, it’s dark; the only light coming in is the porch light from the front door.

“are they not home?” yuji asks through a whisper, squinting as if that will speed up his eyes adjustment to the darkness.

nobara frowns. “they have to be; they said they would!”

“fuck, maybe they found us out,” Inumaki adds.

maki suggests blankly, “have we considered turning on a light yet, maybe.” 

yuuta walks toward the light switch, mumbling, "I'll do it.”

It takes a minute for everyone's eyes to adjust, but once they do, everyone goes wide-eyed at the scene in front of them. you and megumi are asleep on the couch. you’re on top of him, lying on his chest, and buried in his arms. small content smiles on both of your faces.

yuji chokes back a squeal. “no way, no way, no way!!”

“oh my god, maki, hold me; I'm gonna collapse,” nobara quickly says before throwing herself into her girlfriend's arms.

maki stumbles slightly as she mutters, "I might collapse too; this is sickening.”

yuuta can’t help but smile. "aw, wait, this is so cute."

“right?” Inumaki instantly agrees. “look at them cuddling asleep, oh my god," he pauses momentarily. "I suddenly have the urge to kick y/n.”

maki’s glare practically burns holes into Inumaki. "don't you dare.”

"If you touch me, I'll kill you.”

everyone’s head snaps toward you, slightly startled from not expecting you to say anything considering you were asleep—or at least they thought you were.

“oh my god, haha!" Inumaki laughs nervously. “heyyy, we were just talking about you.”

you roll your eyes and slowly lift your head to look at all of them, before gently resting your chin back down on megumi’s chest. “you guys are so loud; maybe work on that next time you wanna spy on us.”

“we tried telling them to be quiet,” yuuta explains.

maki adds, “they don’t know what that is.”

you scoff, “clearly.”

“Is megs awake?” yuji asks.

“nope,” you say, quickly glancing at megumi, who’s still sound asleep. “you think I'd still be on his chest right now if he were?”

nobara half-shrugs in agreement. “you’re right, he’d go into cardiac arrest... shy ass bitch.”

you can't help but snort, which you immediately regret because megumi stirs awake.

“who are you talking to?” he slurs with his eyes still closed.

"shh, no one, go back to sleep,” you coo.

megumi’s face scrunches up, evidently suspicious, and the moment you see his eyes begin to open, you slap your hands over them.

“y/n, stop covering my eyes.”

"I don't know what you’re talking about.”

you barely have a second to process what's happening before megumi sits up, your hands dropping off his face as you grab onto his shirt to save yourself from falling. he also wraps his arms around your waist to help. now sitting up, with you in his lap, he looks around and finds the rest of the group smiling like idiots at the whole ordeal. megumi flushes deep red as he turns to look back at you, who’s smiling menacingly.

he gulps, not liking the way you’re looking at him. “y/n…”

although you’re already on his lap and in his arms, the force with which you slam yourself against him pushes him back down onto the couch, and now back in your original positions, you smother kisses all over his face. megumi somehow flushes an even darker red as he attempts to push you off him in embarrassment, and his embarrassment only grows worse when he can hear yuuta, yuji, Inumaki, and nobara either cooing or laughing while maki is pretending to gag.

"I thought you didn’t hate me anymore,” megumi asks through a pout, still attempting to evade your kisses.

"I don't,” you say before pressing your lips against his.

megumi kisses you back and uses the opportunity to snake his hands up and grab your face, pulling it away from his and effectively stopping you from kissing him anymore. “then why are you torturing me like this.”

you simply smile. “cause you're cute when you get all embarrassed.”

megumi pushes you off of him and onto the couch as he stands up, scoffing, “fuck off.”

you laugh as you sit up properly. "you wound me, stalker; I can feel my soulmate mark fading as we speak.”

megumi looks down at you blankly. “you're literally not funny. like at all.”

nobara seems to suddenly appear out of thin air by megumi’s side, slinging her arm over his shoulders as she coos, “and everyone booed when I said me and y/n would marry into the same family.”

maki rolls her eyes and pulls her girlfriend off megumi. “neither of us are married, nobara.”

“yet…”

megumi rolls his eyes. “shut up, nobara.”

yuji, who has just been enjoying recording the bickering between you and megumi up until now, lifts his head from his phone. “hey megs?”

“what?”

"have you told gojo anything? cause like he's asking me how you are, and I don't wanna spill the beans…”

"wow, you're closing your fat ass mouth for once?”

you don't hesitate to kick megumi in the shins for that and scold him through clenched teeth, telling him to be nice.

yuji is unphased. "don't play with me right now. your life is in my hands.”

megumi clears his throat. "...I'll text him.”

-ok ignore that i accidentally posted this last night coughs.

-ANYWAY YIPPEE BONUS CH!

-do nawt ask me what happens when gojo gets there bc idk! megumi explodes probably !

-sorry the layout is so weird i wouldnt have been able to include gojo's messages in here had i screenshotted the written part like i usually do but i rlly wanted to add papa gojo!!

-ANYWAY LOVE U KITTENS MWAH MWAH ! I HOPE U GUYS LIKED THIS SORRY ITS LIKE LOWKEY UNDERWHELMING AND BAD LOLZ

LINK TO A MASTERLIST OF HELP LINKS FOR PALESTINE, CONGO, AND SUDAN

taglist!🦂 (under the cut)

@bloombb @kasumitenbaz @basically-an-anime-stan-acct @deegausserr @theholypeanut @iluv-ace @sad-darksoul @secretanimesimp @satforsatoru @bbysatoruuu @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @1l-ynn @lu-spizzeria @nymphsdomain @babydoll-143 @zellwa @k4romis @ynverse @r0ckst4rjk @chilichopsticks @ryoiii @nnnyxie @st1rvoid @pastatata @morgyyyyyyy @venusinx @lees-chaotic-brain @nishii28 @meguemii @honeyfewr @nobody289x @afatalheat @hopeladybug @becsmarvel @bakugouswh0r3 @enigmaticnephilim @nanamiswifes @you-always-made-me-blush @everythingseasoning @jayathelostdragon @tranzumaki @saesofficialwife @delulusuga @tar0sw0rld @hexrts-anatomy @camilo-uwu @revrse @tanchosanke @ashfrommyfire @liveincans @gyuville @fushigurosdevinedogs @zamorazz @amenial

[frost-queen]

Bodyguarded // part 3 (Reader!Grimes x Daryl Dixon)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, Tag: @strangerthingslover69, @ankhmutes, @yoowhatthefuck, @sseleniaa, @deansapplepie, @abbiesxox

Summary: After your little fall-out with Shane, you start to distance yourself. Daryl gives zero f*cks about you distancing yourself as he keeps himself aroud. During a heart to heart with Daryl, you might discover more of the underlying tone of Shane's attitude towards you. [series]

Crickets cricked in the bushes around the fire. Rick sat by the fire with Lori and Carl. Carl was leaning against him staring at the mesmerizing flames. Lori was in deep thought. Some had joined them but mostly everyone had an agenda of their own. Daryl stood a bit further away, leaning against a tree. His gaze turned away from the fire, but rather turned towards you. You weren’t engaging with the crowd, but keeping your distance from them.

You felt humiliated. Like a spying glass had been cast upon you. Everywhere you went, a set of curious eyes followed. Trying to figure out what was going on between Shane and you. Frankly you hardly had a clue to his behaviour towards you. Perhaps you needed to dig deep. Go way back to old memories from before the fall. Before the world went to hell.

Looking over at your brother made you smile faintly. He looked so happy yet somehow you felt like an outsider. Adverting your gaze from him, you turned your posture to take your leave. Going further away from the others to find solitude. The moment you got in motion, went Daryl after you. Leaving the others for what they were to go with you.

Hearing a second pair of feet trail behind you, you exhaled deep. – “Daryl I want to be alone.” – you told him keeping your pace up. – “Fine. I’ll just keep my distance.” – he answered slowing a bit down. Looking up with a heavy sigh, you stopped. – “Daryl you don’t understand. I don’t want you here!” – you made clear having turned around to him. – “Too bad for I’m not going anywhere.” – he made clear. – “Daryl!” – you groaned out. – “What!” – he called back going in defence.

You groaned loud pressing your palms against your eyes, feeling yourself get worked up. – “Daryl please give me some space.” – you begged. – “I’ll give you space but at least let me be around.” – he asked in return. It made you furrow your brows. – “I don’t want to lose… I mean… if a walker appears…” – he spoke swallowing a lot of his words back in. – “Then what? I can shoot Daryl, remember!” – you made clear.

“I know but you…” – he exhaled loud walking up to you. – “You are not in the right headspace right now.” – he told you, touching your elbow. You turned your head bothered away. You hated how right he was. – “Just… just let me keep you save.” – he lowered his head a bit to catch your attention.

Untensing your muscles with a deep sigh, you surrendered to him. Daryl took you by the other elbow as well, pulling you closer to his body. Sensing just how much you needed it. He wrapped his arms one by one around you. Your arms remained at your side, not feeling it yet. – “Give it a few moments.” – Daryl teased half chuckling. You scrunched your nose, hating how right he was. Not a moment later you gave in, wrapping your arms around him too.

“Good girl.” – he said chuckling. You slapped him hard on the back. – “Don’t patronize me.” – you responded grumpy. Daryl removed his arms from around you, cupping your cheek as he tilted your head a bit back. – “Never.” – he whispered staring down at you. He left a quick kiss on your forehead as it didn’t feel satisfying to you.

He let go of you, spinning you around by your shoulders. He started pushing you through the woody parts of the camp. – “Where are we going?” – you questioned. – “To be alone, like you wanted.” – he simply said, continue to push you forwards. Using you like a compass, navigating his way through.

You came to a clearing in the woods. All the cars were parked over there. Daryl guided you towards the truck opening the door for you at the drivers seat. You got inside, watching him jog around to get in on the other side. He shut the door firm behind him. – “Solitude and silence.” – he joked. – “You are still here.” – you reminded him with a tease. Daryl leaned down in the seat, getting all comfy. – “No I’m not.” – he adjusted the seating lower, leaning back.

“Go ahead and mope or cry or shout, just wake me up when you see a walker.” – he said casually flopping his arm over his head. – “Daryl!” – you said laughingly nudging him hard. – “What?” – he responded unable to hide a smile. – “You’re an idiot.” – you nudged him again with a silly smile on your face. – “I know.” – he answered all smug. He shut his eyes, pretending to take a nap.

You exhaled soft looking out of the dusty window. – “It’s a bit too quiet.” – you said out loud. – “I’m not singing any songs.” – Daryl mumbled in response without moving a muscle. It made you laugh. Daryl set himself back up with a deep exhale. – “Alright fighter, let’s talk.” – he tapped his hand on your knee.

You grabbed the steering wheel staring in front of you. – “How are you feeling with your brother being back, Y/n?” – he asked. You breathed out a laugh, looking at him. – “What I can be serious.” – he let out making you laugh even more. You then calmed letting your hands rejoice at the top of the steering wheel. – “It still feels a bit weird seeing him alive. Don’t get me wrong I am overjoyed he is alive… it is just…” – you started. – “You thought he was dead for so long.” – Daryl finished as you hummed.

“Before… before it all went down my brother was shot.” – You told Daryl. – “They were armed and shot at my brother. Shane… my brother’s partner brought him to the hospital. He wasn’t waking up so they left him in a coma. It was already then a risk if he would make it out alive.” – taking a deep breath you let your forehead rest against your hands on the steering wheel. Suddenly you were pulled back in the memories of the first strike.

Shane drove his car aggressively onto the front lawn. He stepped out all worked up when Lori appeared in the door. – “Shane?” – she said. – “Lori get your bags!” – Shane ordered pointing firm at her. Carl squeezed himself between the opening and his mom, coming in front of her. – “Lori your bags!” – Shane shouted having opened the trunk. – “What for? What is going on Shane?” – She asked feeling herself go in a panic because of his behaviour.

A few houses away broke the window with a clashing sound. Screams filled the streets when a woman tripped. A person going up to her and dropped himself to the ground. A moment later his head lifted a bit of flesh between his teeth. Blood staining his chin as he munched on the flesh. Lori covered up Carl’s eyes, shakingly holding a hand before her mouth. – “Lori!” – Shane yelled startling her. – “The bags!” – Lori nodded shockingly letting go of Carl.

Shane rushed over to Carl, grabbing him roughly by the arm. – “What about dad?” – Carl asked when Shane opened the car door. Shane pushed Carl on the backseat, closing the door on him. Shane ran into the house to help out Lori. Carl looked out of the window, crying silently at what he saw. Flesh being ripped off and blood splattering all around.

You were running horrified by what was occurring. Utter panic in the streets. People eating people. Biting bits and pieces for their own hunger. You didn’t lived far so your first reaction was running over to Rick’s house. There you saw Shane’s car parked poorly on the grass. Upon seeing Carl in the car, you started running faster. – “Carl!” – you shouted loud. Carl heard some muffled sounds before his eyes fell upon you. – “Auntie Y/n!” – he called out, pushing the car door open.

He ran up to you, bumping hard against you. He was crying loud against your body as you shielded him from the horrors. Lori and Shane came out of the house with bags. – “Y/n!” – Lori said surprised. – “Get in the car!” – Shane ordered to Lori. Lori nodded going to the car, tossing the bags in the trunk. Shane walked up to Carl, pulling him off you. – “In the car!” – he shouted at Carl, tossing him towards the car. Lori took Carl, putting him in the car.

“Where is Rick?” – you asked confused. Shane remained silent. – “You were with him! You were at the hospital so where is he?” – you wanted to know. – “Where is he?” – you shouted punching Shane on the shoulder.  Shane grabbed you by the wrist. – “He’s gone!” – he shouted at you. – “No!” – you cried out.

“You are lying!” – you told him. Shane grabbed you by the arms. – “You want to go and see for yourself? Fine! It will be your dead. He is gone Y/n!” – Shane’s hands moved further around you towards your back as it made you step back before they could fully close around you. Shane’s expression hardened. – “Go chase a dead man than!” – he said rudely pushing you away.

You stumbled to the ground in shock. Shane stormed off towards his car. – “If you would just…” – he began, looking over his shoulder to you. Without another word he got in the car. Your eyes widened knowing what he was about to do. You got up to your feet running towards the car. The car got in motion as you missed it. It took a turn, driving off. – “Shane!” – you shouted running after the car.

“Shane!” – you screamed as the distance increased. You couldn’t keep up, you never could. Stopping you dropped to your knees crying and screaming. Carl on the backseat knocking against the glass and shouting was the last thing you saw.

Your head shot up making Daryl blink confused. – “Is…is everything alright?” – he asked after your long silence. – “He told me Rick was dead.” – you mumbled staring hard in front of you. Your hands tightening around the steering wheel. Knuckles turning white. – “He lied…” – you said a bit louder. – “Who?” – Daryl asked getting a bit cautious of how terrifying cold you were being. – “He lied!” – you called out.

Out of anger you started to slap your hand against the steering wheel. Hitting it repeatedly even when your hand felt sore. – “Y/n, Y/n.” – Daryl said trying to get you to stop. He grabbed your hands as you continued to slap, hitting Daryl in the process. He pulled them off the steering wheel pulling at your hands to turn your posture more towards him. He wrapped his arms around you tight as you cried your heart out against his chest.

Pressing his lips hard on top of your head. Daryl turned his head spotting a trailed off walker appear from between the trees. – “Y/n.” – he whispered. – “I’ll be right back… you stay here…” – he said as you felt his grip around you loosen. You lifted your head up as well, seeing the walker. Daryl moved his finger to his mouth, letting you know to remain silent. He then gestured for you to stay put. He was going to take care of it. Your gaze darted down to the crossbow on the floor. His arrows sticking up.

You grabbed an arrow, getting out of the car. – “Y/n!” – Daryl called out, hurrying out of the car. Clenching your grip around the arrow, you went up to the walker. – “Y/n!” – Daryl shouted as it caught the attention of the walker. The walker gaged making it’s way over to you. Daryl ran up to you trying to keep you out of harms way. You raised the arrow, jamming it into the walker’s eye. Pushing it further in, the walker fell backwards with you on top of it.

Pulling the arrow out of it, you jammed it again in it’s eye. Then again and again. Gory blood splashing up. You kept trusting it in the eye, creating a massive hole. – “Y/n! Y/n!” – Daryl called out grabbing your arm to stop you from hitting it once more. – “It’s dead.” – Daryl made clear. You gasped for air with a loud sob, lowering your arm. Daryl took the arrow from you.

You wiped some gore off your face with your arm. Getting up with a loud huff. You wanted to walk off as Daryl grabbed your wrist, keeping you in place. – “What the hell was that about?” – he wanted to know. You didn’t have to speak as he understood. Daryl searched his back pockets taking out a key with the most ridiculous keychains on them. He opened your hand slapping them in your hand.

It made you frown. – “You can drive if you like.” – he said. – “Daryl what… what do you…” – you began as he interrupted. – “I don’t need all of them! I don’t! Hell I can survive better on my own!” – he made clear with a loud tone. – “So f*ck them all and drive off!” – he continued finally making himself clear to you. He grabbed you by the shoulders with a deep exhale.

“All I care about is you Y/n. Let’s get in the car and go. Just go. Leave this pile of shit behind.” – he pulled you closer letting his forehead rest against yours. – “All I want is for you to be save Y/n. So say the word and we’ll leave.” – he finished. You closed your hand with the keys in it, smiling up to him. You kissed him tender on the lips.

Daryl held himself back knowing it was a bittersweet kiss. He knew you couldn’t leave Carl… or Rick. – “I’ll hold you to it.” – you told him not saying entirely no to his offering. Daryl cupped your cheeks, kissing you once more. Deepening his kiss. Lips brushing against one another. A promise made underneath the moonlight.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[ruoshik0]

The snake-like Cuckoo who lives among the Bats and Birds

The first lesson Janet Drake taught Tim was about how everybody has their own agenda. That he should never give someone else his trust, at least not very easily.

Tim was young then. Very young. Toddler years if you will. However, his mother still taught him such a thing because while children are impulsive and hard to control and most importantly stupid, Timothy Drake- her flesh and blood, the only heir to the Drake fortune and the one who will, one day, be the reason she will continue living her dream life in early retirement- was a genius. A prodigy if you will.

He was smart. Far smarter than even some adults (people Tim meets at every gala he attends). Sharp and calculative in the same way Janet was. Because Tim was all mother and no father. He didn’t inheret even a remotely similar personality trait from Jack. And Janet- ever the observant woman- noticed that fact early. It gave her a chance to raise a proper Drake heir. A cunning and successful man who will one day raise Drake Industries to new heights and dominate everything else.

And in the real world, no one is ever above deciet and betrayal if all the right buttons are pushed.

Tim’s trust never came to anyone very easily after that.

The second lesson Janet Drake taught Tim was about subtle manipulation.

Trusting no one doesn’t mean that Tim couldn’t predict his opponent’s moves as long as he has enough information about them. A little trick there and a little accident here. No, Tim wasn’t the cause of this! How could you even think of that? Tim was the one who brought justice to the wronged! It’s just that, because he helped, these people trusted him. Became somewhat loyal!

And giving your trust to Tim was always the wrong move. Because trusting Janet Drake was a wrong move too. Back then, as stated before, he was a child. So most of the time he just acted dumb and got people talking. He was kind of a spy for the Drakes in that way. Janet knew how to utilize resources just as well as Tim of the present. He prided himself for never getting caught.

Nowadays, resprting to a little manipulative tactic became a bit of a habit. Second nature of you will.

The third lesson Janet Drake taught Tim was about the art of acting and wearing masks.

When Janet was small, she learned that masks are absolutely needed if she wanted to survive among the hungry and greedy gotham elites. Back then, she helped Jack Drake he was too trusting, too gullible, and too loyal. Janet learned to take advantage of her little bodyguard and fool the rest of the elites. Wearing the little sweatheart of gotham mask- a mask that seamlessly fit her face- wasn’t easy. Jack was too annoying, too clingy, too prideful, too… obsessive.

She learnt to love him all the same. Because she was also too much in certain areas too.

She taught Tim how to act and switch between masks effortlessly. To build a mask, one for every occasion. Every separate identity, and every separate Tims that he wanted others to see and percieve.

The shy and timid Drake child.

The invisible shadow that follows the Bat and his birds.

The perfect sweetheart of gotham.

The amicable, old money heir.

His first lesson was to never trust. His second was to do anything to get what he wanted. His third was to decieve.

Gotham elites are a different kind of crazy than the rest of this cesspit of a city. No one, other than the truly decieving and despicable, could survive in it. No one, other than a truly born and raised Gothem elite, could Thrive in it. It was the reason why the Drakes didn’t associate with New money. New money didn’t know the ins and outs. They were gullible and weak and the Drakes wouldn’t be caught dead letting them talk to them longer than socially necessary.

Gotham elites were selfish and had their own agenda. Everyone manipulated, no one trusted another, and everyone wore a mask- however, lacking they are.

That was the world Tim came from. So imagine his fascination when he found out about Batman.

A man who, seemingly for no reason, was fighting crime and helping the city. It juxtaposed everything Tim knew and the rules he lived by. Which was why he needed know the man’s motives. Because surely, everyone has their agenda, everyone does something to gain for their selfish reasons. Surely, Batman isn’t an outlier.

Gotham elites, the Drakes, everyone. Even Tim. They did everything for their own gain. They stopped at nothing to get it. There was no symptathy for the weak who fell. No respect for the strong who thrived. Tim did not pity the street rats. That was simply their role in this waste pool of drama and plays.

But Batman. He helped without getting paid. He made it seem like he had no motive. And Tim, being the genius whose mind is constantly undersimulated, decided he wanted to solve this case. His first case.

And then he quickly became obsessed.

Stalking wasn’t hard when you somewhat practice self defence arts. This is Gotham. And he was a Drake. A Drake wouldn’t be caught getting kidnapped. It would bring shame on the family name.

He took up photography rather quickly, playing it off as a hobby. Batman and Robin were magical. Beautiful. And Tim still hasn’t solved Batman’s motives. His life fianlly had meaning beyond being a perfect heir to the Drakes.

Then he found out about their identities.

Tim began stalking Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson in the galas too. It was obvious to him that Brucie was a mask. Even before he found out about Batman.

The Gotham elites didn’t have empathy nor sympathy towards anyone who fell and those who never got the chance to fall. He assumed Bruce Wayne was the same.

Everything he did was for the publicity, at least that’s what he thought. He thought wrong.

No one ever saw Bruce Wayne and Batman in the same room. And to prevent people of finding his secret identity, Bruce created the mask named Brucie. He found out one of Batman’s motives.

It was exhilarating.

And then everything came apart.

Dick had an argument with Bruce. Bruce found another Robin. That Robin died. Batman became a man willing to give up.

Tim couldn’t have that. While being birthed and raised by Janet Drake meant that he had a very loose moral compass, he couldn’t have Batman giving up. That would lead to Batman dying, Gotham falling, and most importantly, Tim never getting the chance to solve Batman.

He did the standard things in order the right everything. Asking Nightwing to come back was a bust. Demanding Batman find a Robin was also quickly becoming a bust. Then both were captured by two face.

Alfred handed him a Robin suit with a haunted look on his face.

Robin was magical. Robin was empathetic. Robin was kind and helpful.

Robin was everything Tim wasn’t.

Then, Tim quickly created a mask named Robin and saved both heroes.

The only reason Tim was still welcome in this house was because he had his uses. No matter what, Bruce Wayne is a Gotham elite. And Gotham elites all have their agenda, their reason to do anything they did. Bruce welcomed his kids in because… they were his children. Because he loved them. It escaped Tim why love is the way it is.

But among the Bats and Birds, Tim was the Cuckoo. He forced his way into the family. As a born and raised Gotham elite, Tim has his own agenda of being here. He wanted to be useful. To be… loved the same way the others were.

But because he was a Cuckoo, that love is hard to earn. He knew that. So, he remained useful. Became the smart Robin, the detective that is almost on par with Batman himself. Lead the WE gracefully, kept the Wayne public image as high as possible, entertained the other elites so that the others wouldn’t need to.

Everyone knew a slightly different Tim.

The Bats knew the case obsessive Red Robin.

The Waynes knew the sleep deprived Tim.

The Gotham elites knew the genius CEO Timothy.

And the media knew the Gotham’s sweetheart Tim Drake.

No one knew the Tim that existed beyond the high raised walls upon walls.

Just like how he liked it.

Because the Drakes may be prideful Dragons and the Waynes may be the protective Bats but Janet and Tim were the deceitful snakes that grew wings and feathers.

[misspookiehere]

HE TAXED HIS PEOPLE TO DEATH? His provided lots of flexibility in his tax system.

When Lucien was explaining Feyre he said if they don't pay in 3 days Tamlin is expected to hunt them down.

But during tithe Tamlin said they have 3 days or the offer double next tithe. He don't want to hunt them down.

Plus they can literally give anything. Money is not necessary.

Girly thinks Rhysand have a tree that grows money or maybe they got occasional money rain in Velaris. Huh? How do you think he is running his court.

THE WEIRD ORGY FESTIVAL?

Lo jiii now their fae tradition that they've been doing for thousands of years is now suddenly Tamlin's fault.

SOMEONE HAS TO GIVE THEMSELVES TO HIM?

Girly make it seem like he is dragging women to sleep with him. All the women participating in Calanmai is there on their own.

LOCKED HER IN

Yes he locked her in, biggest mistake but did he controlled what she eats?,did he forced her to do physical training?,did he forced her to work with no salary? Did his people in the mansion was verbally lashing on her? When she locked Nesta in the name of therapy they forced her to do all of these things.

Pls don't start saying that in Nesta's case all these things helped her. Bcoz in Feyre's case staying in the mansion will make sure she is still breathing. Do I need to remind you that Attor & Hybern were still lurking in the SC borders ready to snatch her any moment they got. Yes in SC borders bcoz at this point everybody knows she is in SC they don't exactly have to find her. They are more closer to her than she thinks.

GAVE HER SISTERS TO HER ENEMY?

I thought this one is clear. Looks like I still need to talk about this. Tamlin & Lucien didn't know about Ianthe's plan. How did Ianthe know about her sisters? Almighty Feyre herself told her in details.

And also didn't they visited her sisters when Rhysand was fully aware that Attor was tracking them. And then they invited those Queens who betrayed them later in the same house.

And don't even think about saying If Tamlin hadn't made that deal none of these would have happened bcoz he made the deal after Ianthe was already in the SC. That woman has her own agenda so it doesn't matter if he made the deal or not she still would have carried out her plan.

And also Tamlin's deal was not only to bring Feyre back. 1st of all the deal allowed him to spy on them and 2nd the other part of the deal was that he'll allowed them to cross the wall if they don't attack anyone in SC. Let's just say What if he hasn't made the deal then the war will still happen, they'll still cross the wall, the first court they'll attack will be his but without the deal they'll kill each & every person in SC. I would say it was a thoughtful idea but unfortunately not everything thing was fulfilled.

(putting this here bcoz I commented it somewhere & atleast 10 people said they don't remember & even more people said that this never happened & that I'm a crazy girl making fake scenes in my head)

NEVER TREATED HER LIKE AN EQUAL?

okay fine he didn't give her HL title (the title that didn't even existed) but he was marrying her in front of his people that means he is basically introducing her as the lady of SC ( if not HL) to his whole court . That still gave her lot of power plus respect. 

What exactly Rhys did? Married her privately with only one witness ( I'm guessing) that is the priestess. And then he introduced her as a whore in his court.

THE WHOLE COURT NEEDED TO BE RECONSTRUCTED BY A COMPETENT LEADER?

What kind of leader? Like Rhysand?      Haah Funny coz that dude can't even rule the other half of his court properly.

[imaginedanvrs]

when the world stands still

part 1 l masterlist

natasha romanoff x reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: explosions, manipulation, coercion, descriptions of stage 4 cancer, character death, grief

“I don’t like her,” Natasha said to her friend freely from where they sat at the bar, the Russian’s eyes focused on the woman in question.

  “I know,” Wanda replied, glancing briefly at the small crowd gathered on the opposite side of the room. “She seems better than Ross though.” Natasha scoffed lightly. 

  “Doubtful. If he practically gave her his old job then they’ve got to have the same agenda,” Natasha theorised. “Doesn’t this worry you?” She asked, turning to the younger redhead with a furrowed brow. She had more reason for concern than the Russian did.

  “Of course, but it’s nothing that we can control or even have a say in. It’s best if we just try and stay on her good side,” Wanda explained. “I doubt we’ll ever see a Secretary of State that actually likes the Avengers. They don’t like what they can’t control.” The mentor didn’t respond, still examining the newest political figure Tony had invited to his party, most likely having the same thinking as Wanda. 

  “Krasnyy,” Wanda muttered. “Don’t give her reason to make things difficult for us,” she said with a slight plea. 

  “I’ll play nice,” the older woman assured with a teasing smile that didn’t help put the Sokovian’s mind at ease. She hummed and followed Natasha’s gaze to where it had travelled to the spacious balcony outside. There were few people scattered around on the other side of the closed doors to keep out the evening autumn breeze that proved to be too much for most of the guests. They retreated back into the warmth, leaving you to stand alone. 

  “You don’t like her wife either?” Wanda queried.

  “Fiance,” Natasha corrected. “Of two years,” she added with a knowing smirk over the tip of her glass. 

  “Spreading gossip about them is the last thing you should be doing,” Wanda scolded lightly before taking her own sly glance in your direction. Your back was to the party, the city beyond captivating your attention instead. You had dutifully shown your face by your partner’s side at the start of the party but apparently hadn’t felt the need to mingle like most did at such an event. “Two years?” Wanda asked as though it only just clicked. Natasha chuckled with a small nod. “Well I suppose they must be quite busy.�� 

  “Too busy for a lot of things I bet,” Natasha continued. 

  “Tasha,” Wanda warned again, unable to hide her smile this time. “It’s my turn to escape early,” she said as she stood up. The brunette had a mission early the following morning, a card Natasha had been able to play at the last few events. It wasn’t that either of them disliked Stark’s parties, they were infamous for a reason, but nights like that one didn’t compare when there was a clear political motive and the heroes were paraded around like trophies that could perform tricks. 

  “Tell me what I miss when I’m back,” she said, leaving the spy to her own devices at the bar where her attention soon flickered back to you. 

  Play nice, she reminded herself as she started towards the balcony. You didn’t turn around when the door opened behind you, taking another drag from the glowing cigarette as your gaze remained fixed on the night life below. 

  “I’m glad someone can admit how tedious these events can be,” Natasha called out, putting several paces between you as she leant over the railing next to you. You glanced her way in acknowledgment but gave no indicator if you were pleased or irritated by the company. 

  “This is the third one this week,” you told her simply. 

  “Just don’t laugh too much at the unfunny jokes or they won't leave you alone,” Natasha advised. “Oh and pretend you don’t find them incredibly irritating,” she added. You took another steady drag as you eyed the Avenger, unsure what her angle was with you. Most of the guests at such parties that approached you on your own just wanted some gossip about your personal life. Vultures.

  “Is that what you do?” A genuine smile crept through Natasha’s strategic features that you apparently saw through better than most.

  “And find the right people to pass the time with. I suppose your fiance is preoccupied though,” the redhead stated as she peered back at the party. You didn’t reply, nor did you show any interest in what you were missing behind you. “If you can stick it through, it gets better once people get drunk,” the spy continued, set on getting some kind of reaction or exchange from you. 

  “They’ve got the right idea,” you muttered as you crushed the cigarette but under your heel and finally peered back at the party. Your fiance was still immersed in conversation with Steve, one of the few heroes that was willing to converse with her for so long. Natasha’s eyes twinkled in a way she knew Wanda would disapprove of. Regardless, she opened an invitation to you. 

  “Not many people know this, but I’m a pretty great mixologist,” she told you. You considered her for a moment before turning back to the party you had no interest in attending. Might as well enjoy the free drinks, it’s the only perk this new lifestyle seems to come with.

  “Screw it, why not,” you shrugged, allowing the Avenger to lead the way back inside and to the edge of the bar where she and Wanda had sat, out of the way of the main events. “How often does Stark throw these events?” You asked as Natasha began pouring from bottles you didn’t know the names of. 

  “Not as much as people think,” she told you. “And there’s usually less people.”

  “Is it better that way?” You asked out of your own sheer curiosity. 

  “Much,” Natasha admitted. You had to give her credit for her honesty. “Events like this just feel like a show.”

  “For my fiance?”

  “Who else?” The redhead placed a martini glass on the bar and pushed it gently towards her. You thanked her and briefly glanced back in the direction of the main party, seeing the guest of honour still mingling with Steve. “Now that bit isn’t an act. They’re talking shop because he’s the only one who can make it seem so harmless at these events,” Natasha continued. 

  She didn’t stop there. As the evening became night, the redhead analysed everyone in the room to you as she continued to push more drinks. You weren’t entirely sure why she was doing it, but it did make the event more interesting to know the unkept secrets about some of the other guests who had appeared. It was also helpful. The gist of it was, none of them were as powerful, generous or influential as they believed themselves to be. 

  Though as enlightening as Natasha’s tale’s were, you couldn’t sit at the bar and listen to her all night, as reminded to you when midnight came around as indicated by the chime. The Avenger was about to pour from another bottle when you stopped it all, the content smile remaining on her imperfect features. 

  “Stop,” you muttered under your breath. 

  The world obeyed. 

  You examined Natasha for a moment, noting the lonely stillness that had fallen over her features and that of everyone else's in the world and briefly wondered if it would ever stop feeling so isolating. You couldn’t ponder on it, even if you did quite literally have all the time in the world, because you had a job to do. 

  Begrudgingly, you stood up from the bar stool and leisurely made your way across the grande room with a slight intoxicated sway to your step, passing by every statue without a second glance. You always felt guilty when you saw all their oblivious faces. 

  You had never uttered that magic word after a drink before and you could feel yourself having less of a control over keeping everything still than you usually did. You were playing a dangerous game, resuming everything too soon could have endless consequences that you weren’t planning on exploring. She certainly wouldn’t be happy. 

  More than that, you had never performed the task on a building with such impressive technology either. What if you were finally caught? It couldn’t have worse outcomes than the only other time you had been found out. For you. Someone else would pay that price though and you weren’t ready to deal with the debt that would follow, ironic for someone with your abilities. 

  Even though you had tried your best to memorise the route to the control room prior, you still found yourself getting lost numerous times on the way. It didn’t help that such a large tower only had two sets of stairwells for you to use because Stark apparently had too much faith in his building's ability not to catch on fire and render the elevators useless. You couldn’t use them yourself, having to be sure that everything was left in place when you resumed the world. 

  Finally, you found the main control room and didn’t waste any time placing the small chip under the nearest surface. It was hard to believe what it was supposedly capable of, but you had no doubt that their plan was flawless, it always was. 

  Just like that, your work was done and you returned to the party, feeling far heavier than you had when you left from the guilt that was already weighing on your shoulders. It wasn’t the first time you had done something like that, but you were sure this deed was going to have a worse impact than any of the prior ventures. 

  You let go of your hold on the world’s time so that the chaos could resume. The midnight chime ended and was replaced with another sound, one that was far grander. 

  The explosion shook the building, startling every guest that looked to each other for solace and guidance with terrified expressions. Alarms blared, people screamed, orders were yelled from the building’s AI and heroes. “Stay here,” Natasha ordered as you painted your features with the same fear that everyone else carried. 

  “But Cecilia-” you started, because anyone would be first concerned about their lover, right? Amidst the chaos, you really couldn’t see her. 

  “Wait!” Natasha repeated, springing over the bar and starting down the hall you had come from as the AI reported where the explosion had started. Steve rushed off after her, then Tony, then a few others. Then the next alert came. 

  “Security breach within the mainframe!” The robotic voice alerted. 

  You were so focused on watching the crowd panicking around you that you didn’t even notice the presence behind you until her body crashed into yours, supposedly to embrace you in a blaze of panic and relief. “Are you okay?” Your fiance asked as she examined your features carefully, playing the role without fault. 

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” you told her, staring long enough into her features to give the nonverbal answer she was looking for. She hardly needed it, the scenes unfolding around you were evident that you had done as she instructed. 

  “Good,” she exhaled, pulling you flush against her into a tight hug that gave her enough cover to whisper into your ear. “Good girl,” she praised, maintaining that fake worry as she pulled away. You felt sick. People were crying around you. God, you hoped no one was hurt. 

  The situation was handled with impressive ease and it wasn’t long before everyone was being evacuated from the tower. Despite yourself, as you followed the crowd out of the building, your arm protectively around your fiance’s waist, your eyes drifted back in hopes of catching a glimpse of the redhead that had entertained you for the last stretch of the party. Part of you actually wanted to thank her for making the tension you had been feeling lessen, but that couldn’t happen, so you carried on. 

  The moment you were in the car together with the driver speeding off to your home, Cecilia was on the phone to her team. “Did you get it?” You didn’t hear the response, you didn’t want to know. Still, her chuckle told you it had. They had hacked the Avengers and retrieved whatever files they were looking for. You weren’t sure which ones, all you knew was that you had been able to damage the controls enough to provide a window for them to enter and take what they pleased. 

  “I don’t know what you’re looking so down about,” Cecilia sniped when a silence fell over the vehicle. “You know the deal, your sister gets more treatment now,” she said simply. 

  Yeah, she will. That’s all that matters. You nodded. “Thank you,” you muttered. “Can I see her?” You asked, hoping you could make a stop to visit her before you were taken back to the house. 

  “She’s already in surgery,” she told you with a smile. You returned it politely, willing yourself not to argue that that meant you really should have been taken to where she was so that you could wait for her, so that you could be there in case… Fuck, you didn’t even know she needed another surgery. They never told you anything. 

  You fought back tears, adamant that you wouldn’t show weakness in front of her, especially when she was on a power trip of success. She had the job, she had the files, she had you. To her, everything was working out perfectly. To you, it was all falling apart. 

*

“What files were accessed?” Tony asked, feeling an uncertainty arise within his chest. No one had ever hacked him before. No one had ever successfully attacked the base. What was worse, there were still no answers as to how it had been done. He sighed, running his hand through his hair as he gazed at the monitor that offered no comfort. 

  “Just under half of all existing documents. Displaying now.” Files streamed onto the screen on cue, all ranging in dates and topics. 

  “Anything?” Steve and Natasha entered his space cautiously, knowing that the billionaire was stuck in his own head that was no doubt flooded with anxiety. 

  “No, keep the tower shut to all other personnel until we know for sure that there are no more bombs.” 

  “They’re already gotten what they want,” Steve said. 

  “We can’t know that for sure,” Natasha input, leaning over to examine the different documents that were presented and trying to pinpoint any recurring themes or patterns. “We don’t even know who they are.”

*

  Gently, you ran your fingers over the skin where your sister’s hair should have been. You always used to do that when she was sick, from her fevers as a baby to the start of her diagnosis, you were always there to provide her with whatever comfort you could. Getting her the medical help she needed had been a long, greying, journey that you had never for one moment considered might not lead to the destination you wanted. It had been difficult for you both, but you had never dared let her in on what you had done to get her there. 

  It wasn’t a hospital by any means, yet the equipment they carried in the building was far superior. There was a team of professionals that were so highly trained in their respective fields, you had to wonder how much they were being paid to treat your sister and the other unknown patients. It was certainly money that you had never handed them, but you had worked for it. It wasn’t the personnel that had drawn you to the facility, it was the medicine they used. It wasn’t from Earth. 

  You had seen first hand the miracles that occurred on the hostile city streets, the last place anyone would expect to find them. Sicknesses being rid of, disabilities being lessened, burdens released from those who could never have afforded lesser help from elsewhere. All they had to pay with was their services. Thieves, thugs, gangs, dealers, the skills that flourished in the city’s underbelly were revived and given the chance to be used in ways they never could have imagined. 

  Once those rumours fell on your ears, you thought you had found the solution to your problems and that if you gave yourself to the ones pulling the strings behind the curtain, you could save your sister's life. Even as you gazed down at her pale features, you refused to believe your efforts were in vain. 

  Footsteps broke you from your trance as they thudded into your space. You knew who it was, she had a habit of interrupting what little time you had with your sister, as though she was genuinely jealous that your attention was on someone else. Cecilia was hardly in love with you and your relationship was purely for the convenience of getting you access to restricted events and places, but her possession was fierce. She was adamant on knowing where you were at all times and who you were with, preferably being the one to send you to those specific places. You kept to the diet and workout plan she set for you and never let you sleep in a different bed to her. You didn’t understand her insistent dictatorship over your life that was already in her hands, you just knew to obey it. 

  You didn’t react when she pressed a kiss to your neck and snaked her hands around your waist to peer over your shoulder at your sister. She didn’t comment on her declining condition, instead, she brought up the absolute last thing on your mind. “I’ve finally decided on a venue,” she informed lightly, humming into your neck. You could have slapped her. You didn’t want to think about the goddamn wedding. “You’re gonna love it,” she added when you remained silent. 

  “Can you ask the doctors what they’re gonna do next?” You asked. They never told you, too busy to make conversation with someone that didn’t matter to them. You felt your fiance exhale against your skin. She was frustrated, as though your little sister’s cancer was an inconvenience. 

  “She’s dying,” she said bluntly. You stiffened and hoped she didn’t notice. You weren’t in the mood for a fight. 

  “Not yet.” Cecilia kept her hands on your waist as she moved around to your front, placing a fresh kiss to your cheek that you refused to let be stained with tears in front of her. 

  “I love that stubbornness,” she told you with a small smile. “There’s so much fight in that heart of yours,” she added, trailing her finger over your chest to where your organ was thumping. “So much strength.” Her hands threaded around your neck. “It’s why you’re my favourite,” Cecilia said fondly, kissing you once more before finally leaving you be. 

  Your sister died a week later. 

  The only comfort you were able to take from it was that you were by her side when she took her final breath. You were there to tell her that she didn’t have to hang on for you, that she could rest, go be with mum and dad, be without pain. You told her that you would be okay on your own, even though you knew you wouldn’t. You held her hand and felt her give a final squeeze of recognition, of comfort. Her silent goodbye. 

  Just like that, you were left alone. 

  Your sobs could have been heard throughout the entire building. You were inconsolable, grasping onto your little sister’s lifeless body like it would keep her around. You begged for her to take you with her, to let you join them and come home. You begged for an ending. You cried so much your throat felt as though it had been ripped out, torn to shreds from the source. They only intervene when you tried to draw out your time with her. 

  “St-” you couldn’t complete the desperate command because hundreds of volts were sent through your body. You convulsed and collapsed to the floor in a defeated heap, unwilling to ever get up again. What was the point if you didn’t have her to fight for? 

  “Shh, it’s okay,” Cecilia cooed as she pulled the taser clips from your back and pulled your head into her lap. She cradled you, offering her solace for something that never concerned her. She was probably happy your sister was gone. She finally had you all to yourself, even if you were hardly present. “We’ll make it better. You’ll do your best work without the distraction, get you training more.” You weren’t listening, too engaged with setting your eyes on the opposite wall. You didn’t care for her plans for you. 

  “She never would have died if you had been given more help,” she explained, catching your attention. “But no one cared, not the government, not the people, not the Avengers. They just kept you away from us until it was too late.” You didn’t entirely believe what your fiance was telling you, but your mind was so fractured you were desperate for some kind of explanation and someone to blame. 

“Humanity cannot be trusted with its own freedom. We fail time and time again because we aren’t led in the way we should be, the way we can be. Help us change that, y/n.” Dutifully, you sat up and nodded.

“We’re the only ones that looked after you and we’re the only ones that ever will,” she explained. That was true. You had no more foundations or life beyond the commands you were given. No one else could give you a future. 

  “What do you say?” Cecilia asked. You moved to kneel in front of her, features dead straight and eyes as dull as your sister’s behind you. 

  “Hail Hydra.” 

[yoongihan]

Paint My Nails - HJS - OneShot

pairing: jisung x femreader

genre: f2l, almost pwp probably, slice of life smut, fluffy too

rating: M (so not for minors)

word count: 4.5k or so

warnings: smut in the forms of fingering (fem receiving), penetrative sex (protected - responsible people here in this fic), cursing, a lot of kissing and mc fantasizing about Jisung in ways that are not platonic. They (Felix makes an appearance as the roommate) are all the same age, but mc is older by a few months so they call her 'noona' to annoy her. Mc has a few too many drinks, but most of it is burned off by the time anything provocative occurs. everyone is of age to drink and consent. there's a mention of penance and self-flagelation, but not in a literal sense. mc is just being dramatic.

a/n: i wrote this today. i barely edited it because it was like a race against time because it's still his birthday here where I am and my god, I love this man so much that I hate him (you know what I mean). so in typical me fashion, here's another fic of just pure han jisung adoration, kinda friends to lovers (typical me again), and all inspired by the skz-code episodes of them at the sauna and nail-painting. I'm kind of sure this is just a mess and I apologize for any inconsistencies.

~~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a knock on your apartment door and you lift your eyes from attempting to paint the nails on your right hand (why can’t you be ambidextrous? It’d be so helpful. Like you know…for spy stuff and nail painting) to Felix who is seated on the floor, leaning back against the sofa you’re both using for tonight’s chill night.

“Who’s that?” you ask, squinting at the door now, like you might be able to perceive who’s on the other side. You have had a couple of drinks. Sweet sweet cocktails premade in bottles and cans. Both you and Felix have been indulging in an evening of dumb 80s teen films and self-care. You’d already done his nails, a very pretty lavender, and he was letting them dry.

“Jisungie,” he answers, carefully pushing off the floor to go and answer the door.

“What?”

You don’t mean for your voice to go so shrill, but this is brand new information and there should always be a warning when Felix invites people over.

Especially the Han Jisung.

Felix pauses to look back at you. “Jisung. I invited him over. He was bored at his place.”

“And you didn’t think to let me know?” You gesture wildly. “When I look like…” You wave at yourself, encompassing the loose sweatpants and cropped t-shirt that you definitely first bought in middle school. It wasn’t cropped then. It was normal. You just got taller and a little more…endowed. 

Wearing something like this was fine in front of Felix. Because it’s Felix, your beloved roommate. Yes, he’s one of the prettiest humans on the planet, but because the world is weird, you don’t feel anything but massive amounts of love and affection for him - platonically. Which works out well because romance is the subject you struggle with most. 

Felix cocks his head to the side and you remember that he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how you feel about his friend, Jisung. 

Probably because you keep that shit to yourself because the moment you ever share stuff like that with someone, it comes back to bite you in the ass. Broken and strained friendships, accusations of trying to steal someone’s crush, loss of contact…a mess. 

“You look fine…he knows we’re just hanging out.” 

Oblivious boy.

You huff and close the nail polish bottle tightly (you don’t need to add a tangible mess to this evening’s agenda). You also decide to finish off your off-brand vodka-cocktail-in-a-can as though liquid courage can save this night.

Never mind that you usually say way too much under the influence. 

The door opens and you stare as Felix embraces the newcomer. Jisung’s smile is tired, but warm as his chin rests on his friend’s shoulder. He sees you and mouths a quick ‘hey’. 

You wave. Or you mean to wave, but you actually knock over the empty can instead. 

“Shit,” you mutter, picking it up then cursing again because you definitely messed up a fingernail in your can rescue. 

“Okay there?”

You look up as Jisung slinks off his windbreaker, tossing it on the arm of the sofa and sitting down in the middle. You have one side and Felix was on the floor of the other side. Cuddling would happen after fingernails were dry and safe. 

“Just clumsy,” you say, feeling your face heat up. Hopefully, it shows up just as too much alcohol and not embarrassment. “Hi.”

“Beer?” Felix asks. “Water…Coke?”

“Coke’s good,” Jisung states and glances at the television. “Is this…Teen Witch?”

“Oh my god,” you practically squeal. “How do you know that?”

“My older brother’s girlfriend loves eighties movies. Like…so many…” he glances over at you, grinning. “You know this is like shitty cinema, right?”

You make a face. “You can walk right out that door, Han Jisung, if you’re going to mock our viewing preferences. Tonight is classics,” you point to the screen. “Drinking.” You hold up an unopened bottle. “And nails.” You flash your mostly finished left hand at him. “To stay here you have to participate in at least one of those. Unironically.”

His grin has just widened as he takes a glass of soda from Felix, the latter who plops back down on the floor and unpauses the movie. 

“I do?”

Felix shrugs. “She’s the noona.”

You sigh dramatically, turning back toward your bottle of liquid ‘Starry Night,’ an almost blue-black polish.

“We’re all the same year, losers. I just showed up in the spring instead of the fall like you two.”

Felix and Jisung fist bump (Felix is very careful again because nails) in September solidarity and you huff again. 

“Noona,” Jisung says just to irritate you before taking a swig of coke and reaching into the big bowl on the coffee table in front of him for some trail mix. 

Felix wiggles and groans. “My butt is numb.”

Jisung laughs. “Then sit on the couch, idiot.”

Felix points at you both. “There’s not a lot of room.”

“Since when did you have personal space, Lix,” Jisung scooted closer to you, bumping your arm and you pouted. Another messed up nail. “Sorry.”

“I’d be mad if I actually had had success with this hand,” you reply as Felix plops in the empty space at the end. You can smell Jisung this close. Sort of like cloves and rosemary. He turns to see you sniffing. 

“You okay?”

You are such a moron.

“Sorry…” You stare back at your hand, trying to undo the damage of the last attempt. “You smell good.”

“You can smell me over that?” he points to the open bottle. He has a point, but to explain, you’d have to detail how hyper-aware you are of him and that isn’t going to go well at all. 

Felix pipes up about the movie and Jisung is momentarily distracted from your lack of reply. You try again to paint your right pinkie nail.

“I can do it for you?”

“You can?”

Jisung laughs bashfully, head ducked down as he takes the polish bottle from you. He turns toward you, crossing his legs and patting his knee for you to rest your unpainted hand on. 

“I’m not claiming I’ll be great at it, but I feel like I’ll do a better job than you doing it on your own.” He snorts. “Felix should have offered.”

“I can’t until mine are dry!” The youngest protests. 

“Obviously, Felix is a terrible friend,” you say, placing your hand gently on his jean-clad knee. 

“Both of you suck.”

You and Jisung both coo over Felix’s pout, but Jisung starts painting your nails. You watch his face more than his hands (either feature is one you’re weak about, so it’s really like which type of suffering do you want to inflict on yourself); the furrow in his brow as he concentrates, the pursed lips (okay you cannot stare at those too long because getting horny while drunk is just asking for a restless night), how soft his hair always looks. It’s currently his natural black after having it wavy and orange for a time. He’d worn the unusual color well, but it wasn’t like you could see anything but stars when you looked at him anyway.

“So…” you begin. “Drinking, movie-watching or nails?”

“Hmm?” He lifts his head to meet your gaze and you want to just openly stare (you are the heart-eyes emoji). He has such big pretty brown eyes and when they’re focused on you, you lose all ability to function.  

“Which are you going to do? To stay?”

He smirks at your persistence. “I guess nails. I drank too much last night and still feel like I need to recover.”

Felix holds up his nails. “She does a pretty good job, Sungie.”

You preen at the compliment, making them both laugh. 

It gets quiet (except the movie) as he continues your nails. You press your lips together to not speak, because having his hand holding each of your fingers might be the most erotic moment of your life.

Which is just sad when you think about the last time you had sex. 

“Why were you out drinking?”

“Bin and Hyunjinnie won their bowling league tournament thingy.”

“Why didn’t you go, Lix?” you ask, looking over at your roommate.

“I didn’t get the text until I woke up the next morning,” he says. “Also, are you both going to talk through this…the whole time?”

You and Jisung share a smile. 

“Does it bother you?”

Felix shoots you an unamused look. “I’m going to grab us more drinks and food if you both are going to talk over this.”

“And miss the witty dialogue?” Jisung mocks. You smack his arm with your already dried and done hand and he winks at you.

Fuck. Why is everything he does so impactful?

“Are you okay to drive?”

Your roommate rolls his eyes. “I've had two of those…the rest…was all you.”

You look at the empty cans. “Oops.”

You’re rewarded with laughter from both of them as Felix grabs Jisung’s windbreaker and heads to the door, slipping on shoes. 

“Stealing this, Sung.” 

“It swallows you.” The owner of said windbreaker seems unperturbed by the theft. 

“Because Felix is a delicate flower.”

You get a defiant middle-finger from Felix as he shuts the door behind him. 

Leaving you alone with Jisung.

Which you just realized. 

“How’d I do?” he asks as he holds up your right hand, looking at it with critical eyes. 

“Much better than I was doing.”

He grins at you. “That was a pretty low bar, noona.”

You pull away your hand, mock-annoyed. “I guess, thank you.”

He leans back on the sofa as you screw the cap to the polish back on and set it on the side table. You lift up a green bottle for his inspection.

“This color?”

“For what?”

“For you, Han Jisung.”

“Oh….” He crosses his arms over his chest, drawing your eyes to the width and breadth (is that the same thing, your brain questions) of his torso. He’s not a big guy, not like Chan or Bin, but Jisung works out at the same gym as them and my god, you can tell. 

He once wore a sleeveless t-shirt at a cook-out and you nearly fainted. 

Felix thought it was just the heat and humidity, but you knew it was Jisung’s glorious shoulders. 

“I think I’m going to be super basic and go with black nail polish.”

You grimace. “Ugh, why so boring?”

His eyes are warm. “Cause I am boring.”

“Bullshit.” You hold out your last can of whatever you’ve been drinking. “Please open.”

He pops the top and hands it back to you. You take a long swallow, knowing you’re flushed with his proximity more than anything else. 

“You don’t think I’m boring?”

“Are you fishing for a compliment?”

He straightens up and leans toward you as you continue to look through your supply of polishes. “If I am?”

He probably has no idea that his breath has hit the exposed skin of your neck. Like there’s no way he knows that you shiver because of him.

“If you want me to wax poetic about you, just say the word.”

You can hear his chuckle as you finally find your black polish and turn. He’s only half a foot away and you see his eyes widen at how close you are. 

“Really?” He swallows and draws back just a little, which reminds you that he most definitely does not feel about you the way you feel about him. 

You shrug and hold out your hand. “Hand please.”

He doesn’t immediately do as you ask, and it makes you look up at him. He isn’t smiling, he’s not frowning either. He looks thoughtful, like he’s trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle. 

“What?”

“You can’t see the movie like this.” He says it slowly, as though he’s testing…something. 

You look at the television then back at him. “So?”

“I thought movie-watching was vital to this evening’s plans.” One corner of his mouth lifts and there’s the beginnings of a smirk. “I wouldn’t want to mess that up.”

You roll your eyes, a little nervous for some reason you can’t really explain. “What do you suggest then?”

He adjusts so he’s facing the screen, leaning against the cushiony back of the couch, and then pats the space between his legs. 

“Sit here. Then we both can watch.”

If he sees how wide your eyes get then he doesn’t show it. He just looks at you expectantly, innocently like sitting on his lap, in between his legs is the most normal of things to do.

Which…with Felix, yeah, you totally have. But Felix isn’t Jisung.

Jisung is not Felix. 

It’s probably only a few seconds (it feels like an hour) but you shrug again and move to sit right there.

Oh this is a bad bad idea.

He curls around you, hands coming to set upon your thighs, ready to be decorated. One of your friends might diatribe about Minho’s thighs and you never really got it, but sitting with Jisung’s flush against yours is up there with all transcendent experiences; seeing the Sistine Chapel, getting high in a field at sunset, hearing Led Zeppelin live…

You shake the bottle and undo the cap, placing the bottle in one of his hands before taking the other in yours. 

“You have nice hands, Ji.”

You feel his chin touch your shoulder before resting fully. He’s so close to your neck that he could press his lips (those perfect lips - full bottom and sharp top lip) without having to move much. 

“Thanks.” His voice seems deeper but that’s probably because he’s so close. You start with his thumb, trying to focus on doing a good job and not that your body temperature went up a million degrees in the last two seconds. 

A few minutes pass, not that you’re watching the movie because nail-painting takes all your concentration. You don’t know if he is and if you try and look, your faces would be so close and you don’t think your self-control is that good. 

You know it’s not.

“Are you cold?”

“No, why?”

“Your legs are shaking,” he says softly and you look past his hand to where your legs, clad still in sweatpants are indeed trembling.

Yeah, you’re not cold. You’re so turned on that your body is about to go into a lust-frenzy. 

“Just fidgety,” is all you can come up with.

His head moves on your shoulder, turning a bit more toward you. “Yeah? Do you need to get up, move around?”

God, he’s so nice. Worrying that you might be atrophying and here you are, trying to imagine his hands were under your shirt. 

You might need to do some major penance after this. Some self-flagelation too. 

“I’m good.”

Yeah, you’re so good. All you want to do is turn your face and kiss one of his beautiful cheeks, trail along his jawline, nip a little at that neck, climb him like a fucking tree…

You squeeze your eyes tight in an effort to calm the fuck down. 

You finish one coat on both hands despite your wandering mind. You take the bottle out of his hands, recapping it and shaking it well. He shifts, one hand (the first, the drier one) touching your waist which is bare because of the way too small t-shirt you still have on. 

His touch is scorching. 

“Um,” you squeak. “Do you need to get up and move around? Legs falling asleep?”

You feel his chest move against your back as he takes a deep breath. “No.”

You do turn (stupid really) to see him, confused as to why he’s now gripping your waist as though to keep you in place.

“Jisung?”

His eyes, closed when you turned, now open and stare into yours in a way that makes you forget how to breathe. 

You turn a bit more and as you do, you realize why he’s holding you still. So you couldn’t feel him.

You’re not the only one stimulated right now.

His cheeks are red and he drops his gaze. 

“M’ sorry. I wasn’t…”

With guys, you know that anything can encourage such a response physically. It doesn’t mean that he likes you back. That he even really thinks of you like that. Your nearness to his dick and movement might just be all it is.

But you prefer a different interpretation. Fueled by alcohol and your overactive imagination. 

You kiss him.

Just a light kiss because he’s embarrassed and though you really want to like go full ‘rip off clothing and fuck’ mode, your heart is pretty soft for him. And you just want him to be okay. To know that he’s wonderful and every part of him is wonderful and he doesn’t have to be embarrassed around you.

Because he’s wonderful.

You draw back and offer him a smile. His eyes are wide again, looking at you like you might be speaking in a foreign language. 

“It’s all good, beautiful.”

You’ve never called him that before, but you don’t take it back. Because it’s true and even sober you wouldn’t argue that fact. 

He’s really just beautiful. 

You hear and feel him take another breath, this time a bit shaky. 

“How drunk are you?” His voice isn’t much more than a rumble. 

“Not enough to pass this off as just a drunk mistake.” You fiddle with the closed polish bottle. “Unless you want me to.”

His mouth covers yours in less than a millisecond and you’re too stunned to react immediately. The bottle of nail polish falls from your hand, you hear it plunk on the floor as he turns you around, lifting you so you face him, straddling him. Any worry of the damage to his unfinished nails flies out of your head because holy shit, Jisung is kissing you. 

His mouth is so warm, tongue wet and slick. You fist the front of his tshirt, your other hand tracing his ear and down his jaw. He hums at this, holding you by the hips, pressing you down so you can feel exactly what he wants you to feel. 

“Fuck,” you breathe against his lips. He’s hard and when his hips roll, the contact is delicious. Your head falls back when he does it again, a moan that echoes in the empty apartment. 

He presses kisses to your neck, his teeth catching slightly and you tremble. 

“So damn cute,” he mutters into your skin. He lifts his head, pulling you back down for another kiss. “Cute as fuck, telling me I’m beautiful, watching me like I’m special… I really hope you aren’t drunk because I want you so bad.”

Super reluctant, you draw back, staring at him. His hands have drifted; one is up and under the back of your shirt tracing along your spine. The other has spread over your ass. 

“Not drunk…a little bewildered.” 

He grins up at you, pressing a kiss to your chin. “You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

His eyes are nearly black, blown out with as much desire as you feel. Lips bright red, plump. Skin flushed. 

“That I see you.” He lets go of your ass, cupping the back of your neck to maneuver you into another kiss. “That the moment Lix said that it was just him and you hanging out, I wanted to come over.” He tugs on your lower lip with his teeth, making you whimper. “That I really hope he gets stuck in traffic and doesn’t come back for several hours.”

“That’s not very nice of you to say about one of your best friends.” You brush his hair back out of his eyes. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve never wanted to fuck Felix.” 

The sentiment reverberates through your body and you wrap your arms around his neck, mouth finding whatever skin available. He holds you like that for a while, groaning when you suck a bruise in the curve of his neck. He stands up, letting you slide down his body until your feet touch the floor.

“But you know, in case the universe isn’t listening and there isn’t any traffic, can we go to your room?”

You laugh at his sheepish expression.

“If you want, I mean.”

You link your fingers with his, tugging him away from the living room and down the hall. You gesture to your open door, but he backs in, pulling you to him, one arm wrapping around your waist. Another kiss or five as he shoves close the door. 

He laughs when he falls back onto your bed, letting you straddle him and start untucking his shirt. 

“How long?”

“Hmmm?” he replies to your question. He’s secured you by your hips, only letting go so you can pull off his shirt. You trace one finger down the center of his chest. 

“How long have you–?” Liked you? Just wanted to fuck you? 

“Wanted you?” He watches as you smooth his tousled hair before you lean down and kiss his forehead then his nose then his lips. “You remember when you took one more green tea shot than Bin?”

You raise up to meet his eyes. “Then? Like the fact that I drank too much?”

He smiles, clasping his hands together at your lower back. “You got pretty sick after that, but you didn’t care. You were so happy to beat Bin.” His fingers slide down past the back of your sweatpants’ waistband. “Fuck…you aren’t wearing anything?”

“I mean…it was just a hangout night…with my roommate. I didn’t expect you to show up.”

He pouts as he pinches your butt. “You’re saying you’d have on underwear and a bra if you’d known?”

“You knew I wasn’t wearing a bra?”

He rolls his eyes. “Duh.”

You try to smack him on the arm, but he catches you by the wrist. He props himself up (hand leaving your un-underweared butt) on one elbow before kissing the hand he’s captured. Just one peck in the middle of your palm. Then he rolls you over, tugging on your shirt. 

You dutifully raise your arms as he rids you of it. Watching his eyes sweep over your half-naked form will live in your memories eternally. He has the most expressive face.

“I…um…” It’s dawning on you that you are definitely about to have sex with Han Jisung. You have not prepared for this at all. “There’s…condoms in the bottom drawer.”

His eyes pull from your chest to your face before he leans down to kiss you softly. 

“Baby, are you shy now?”

“A little.”

He rolls off of you, grabbing a condom before slipping a finger under the waistband of your pants. “Can I take these off?”

“Yep, sure.”

He laughs again before lying down next to you, his hand resting on your stomach. “Why are you nervous?”

“Maybe because we’ve never done this before. I mean, us. Together.”

He nods solemnly. “But I like you, you know. I want you to feel good, so I think it’s gonna be okay. Hopefully more than okay.”

He likes you. 

You roll to your side to face him, mouth meeting his. You undo the button of his jeans, the zipper, hand wrapping around him. He curses. 

“Fuck, your hand feels so good.”

“Ji…it’s your dick. Any hand feels good.”

He makes a face at you before kissing you again. He works to shove off his jeans and boxers.

“Feels way better than my hand.”

You snort as you stroke him, carefully, listening to his breathing, his gasps. After a minute or two his hand encircles yours and he pulls you off.

“I’d like our first time to not have me embarrassing myself.”

You can’t help but look at him fondly as he pushes down your sweatpants, those big brown eyes of his fiery and dark. He cups you before raising one eyebrow.

“Was this just from sitting on my lap?”

“Your very existence is a turn-on.”

He laughs at your petulant tone before sliding one finger into you. You grip his wrist, eyes on his. He moves close, tongue finding yours as he matches the rhythm of his finger with his kissing. It feels good, even if it’s not getting you there. Kissing Jisung could last for days and you think you’d be this content. 

You jolt when his thumb presses on your clit and you feel his smirk against your mouth.

“Cocky bastard.”

“Sounds mean, but your breathy voice tells me I’m doing it right.” He adds another finger and you moan. “You close?”

You nod, which is insane because you’re not usually this primed. 

His fingers curl and his thumb presses just right and you break. He swallows your cries, kissing you as your body quivers with the aftershocks of a very good orgasm. When your heartbeat starts to slow down, he pulls his fingers out of you, drawing you close to kiss your cheek and forehead.

“Okay?”

You push him so he’s on his back, your meager strength enough because you’ve surprised him. You move to cradle his hips between your thighs before looking for the condom he’s dropped on the bed. You open it and roll it on him, seeing his eyes close the moment your hands are back on him. 

He lifts up, resting on his elbows when you position him. HIs fingers grip your hip so tight, you think there might be bruises tomorrow, but it feels good. 

As you sink down on him, he raises up more, almost sitting so he can kiss you, holding your face in his hand. 

“Okay?” he asks softly when you don’t move anymore.

“You feel really good,” you whisper against his lips. 

“Not to try and one-up you, but you feel amazing,” he says, making you smile even though all you want to do is have him move. “Can I?”

Your nod is enough for him and the rhythm for you both takes a few tries to get in sync, but his little laughs when it goes wrong are almost as good as when it finally goes right. He’s sweaty and flushed and panting and when his eyes open to see you, you’re overwhelmed. Because he likes you, he laughs with you, he paints your nails…lets you paint his. 

He likes you because you outdrank one of his friends. 

He comes first, a full-body shudder as he falls back onto the bed, you in his arms. You rest your head on his chest, hearing his heart. 

It’s quiet, even though the movie credits are rolling in the other room with some very poppy eighties one-hit wonder creating the soundtrack to this moment. 

You wonder if you should get off of him, let him clean up when his hand comes back to help you find your own end…again.

“Ji, you don’t have to–” He pushes just enough with his thumb that you squeak. His laugh is weary, but happy. He lifts his head to look at you.

“I don’t, but I want to.”

When Felix does come back, he says nothing about the fact that you are in a different set of pajamas, that Jisung’s t-shirt is backward, and that you are still painting his nails. 

He drops the bags on the coffee table and plops on the floor. 

“You didn’t do it on the couch at least, did you?”

--

(c) yoongihan 2023. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

[oofthwoods]

PROLOGUE! ── ˙ ̟ speed and shadows !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: when a high-stakes mission requires you, a renowned spy, to go undercover as charles leclerc's girlfriend, your worlds collide in unexpected ways. tasked with infiltrating a secretive organization with ties to international crime, you must navigate the complexities of your fake relationship while keeping your true identity hidden.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: this chapter is heavily based on the first chapter of stars and smoke, just like the rest of the series. I tried to think of any other way to start it, but this just felt like it fit most. i know i said i wouldn't be starting this so soon, but since i had something to base it on, it was easier <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 1k

masterlist next ‭→

Right after the checkered flag waved, everything blurred into a whirlwind of emotions and frantic movement.

A throng of people gathered around him as soon as he returned to the garage. A dazed smile spread across his face as hands reached out to congratulate him and the team helped him out of his racing harness. The post-race haze enveloped him, heavy and comforting.

Beneath his feet, he could feel the vibrations from the grandstands, the prolonged applause of the spectators echoing even after he left the track, while the podium ceremony continued without him. Yet, he knew he had done a good job. The warmth of accomplishment surrounded him, though he could already feel the adrenaline fading, giving way to deep exhaustion. As he followed the team down the same corridor he had traversed hours before, the roar of the racetrack began to gradually fade, turning into nothing more than a background hum against the echo of his footsteps.

The interviews followed their usual course, dragging on in a monotonous, slow rhythm, as always. A succession of questions about his teammate's performance and rivals filled the air, along with inquiries about potential improvements to the car. And of course, there were no shortages of questions about plans for the next season, as if each answer could reveal the best-kept secrets of motorsport's backstage.

Each journalist seemed to have their own agenda, their own interests to be met, and the driver found himself at the center of this whirlwind of curiosity. While he maintained his composure in front of the cameras and microphones, inside he longed for the moment when he could finally retreat to the privacy of his team and reflect on the challenges faced and the paths ahead.

Nearly two hours dragged by until he finally found himself back in his cramped driver's room. Amidst laughter and congratulations, he swapped the team's sweaty shirt for a light, soft cotton blue t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, liberating himself from the confines of racing uniforms. His muscles screamed for rest, his limbs heavy with longing for the comfort of a mattress.

"Take a little rest," Ruth, his manager, advised him with a concerned expression. "But I need you out of here before the crowd flow. Ten minutes, tops. Okay?"

A weary smile appeared on his lips as he wiped his sweaty forehead.

"Okay."

Ruth held his chin firmly, giving him a gentle shake.

"And for heaven's sake, eat something."

"I will," he assured her with a nod and a tired smile.

The room now seemed vast and empty, shrouded in an oppressive silence that contrasted with the earlier bustle. Charles wandered the space, his footsteps echoing softly against the floor as he passed by the vacant table and the small wooden chair in one of the corners. The silence was almost tangible after the cacophony of cheers from tens of thousands of spectators and the deafening roar of the engines.

In about an hour, the headlines would start boiling again. The performance of his race would be scrutinized meticulously, as well as his responses in the post-race interviews. Amidst news of global conflicts and protests, reports would also speculate on the astronomical value that tickets for the next big prize could reach in the secondary market. Rumors and gossip would spread like wildfire.

He leaned against one of the tables, letting his head drop forward. Strands of sweaty hair clung to his forehead, partially obscuring his vision. For some reason, his mind drifted back to the image of soaked fans waiting outside the side entrance, yearning for a glimpse of him stepping out of the car.

Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion hit him mercilessly, rapidly dissipating all the euphoria he had experienced during the race. A latent restlessness, always hovering within him, now manifested as palpable pain, pulling him incessantly towards the simple idea of escape, ordering room service, and sleeping.

Although Ruth had mentioned ten minutes, he glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Five minutes," he muttered to himself.

It was enough. Knowing Ruth, the cars would probably be ready and waiting for him by now. He straightened up, running a hand through his tousled hair, and headed for the corridor, walking away towards the reserved area where the drivers' cars were parked.

So far, the men who usually accompany him hadn't shown up. Maybe it was still too early, and they were gathered somewhere near the back entrance. He walked alone down the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the tense silence until he reached the small, discreet side door leading to the driver's garage.

Charles emerged into the cold, damp night, his breath forming small clouds of vapor in the air. His eyes quickly found a shiny black SUV waiting at the entrance. As he approached, the car door opened automatically, as if the vehicle were eager to receive him, revealing a luxurious interior.

A slight sigh of gratitude escaped Charles' lips as he got in. Ruth had undoubtedly upgraded the cars since the last Grand Prix. This one in particular boasted tinted windows as well as new leather seats, already heated to a pleasant temperature.

The door closed automatically behind him, enveloping him in the comfort of the vehicle. Then, the car pulled away smoothly.

It was only then that a sense of unease began to creep into his consciousness. The figure sitting in the shadows beside him wasn't Ruth. And the driver, neither, was someone he recognized.

Charles blinked, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Am I in the wrong car?" he questioned, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Maybe that car belonged to Carlos, or some other driver.

The woman beside him smiled ominously.

"You're exactly in the car you're supposed to be." she replied. And at that moment, Charles realized, with a tightening in his chest, that he was being kidnapped.

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed. crossed names means i couldn't tag you) :: @redcoatgirl @moonlight-girls-posts @barnestatic

[i-am-trying-my-best-okay]

Season Three Bridgerton Predictions (Mostly Just Stuff I Want To Happen)

With Charithra Chandran not coming back in season three, they're going to excuse Edwina's absence by saying she married the prince and is living with him in Prussia.

We get flashbacks of Colin and Penelope as kids, where they were closer, but then we see them get distant because of ✨️society✨️ sending them on different paths.

Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth start having a few relevant and independent character moments and actions other than just being 'the younger ones' and have a greater impact on the story.

So. Much. Jealousy. From. Colin. And he doesn't even know it. He sees all their lessons paying off, and he gets jealous, but then he has no idea what he's even feeling. He'll act so passive aggressive with a potential suitor and Penelope's will be like, "What's wrong with you; we had a plan?" And he's like, "I don't know??" "Well stop." "I can't????" He'll land to the conclusion that he just think these men aren't good enough for Penelope for so long. It'll come up in a big argument and she's all like, "Well whose good enough for me? Someone like you?" And then he's like "Yes! Oh." And Penelope is so annoyed because NOW this guy likes her? Just as she was trying to move on? But the thing is she still likes him, so things progress.

Eloise and Penelope avoid each other like the plague, but when Eloise finds out Penelope and Colin are kind of having a thing, and she flips out. She doesn't want Colin to get hurt, so she tells Penelope to steer clear from Colin or she'll tell everyone she's Lady Whistledown. So she does and Colin is very confused and hurt. Then Penelope and Eloise go through some sort of shenanigan and end up having a deep conversation, making up and are once again friends. But then Colin accidently does find out Penelope is Lady Whistledown and is hurt, and Eloise becomes Penelope's #1 defender.

Kate's pregnant, and has the baby within the season. Anthony is freaking out about this; about being a dad, about the baby being okay, about Kate being okay, and how difficult the birthing process will be (trauma from Hyacinth being born). Meanwhile, while Kate is worried about the baby, she's more so focused on what responsibilities she now has as a Viscountess.

They don't reveal the Whistledown secret, at least not to the general public. I think the Bridgerton's will find out, as well as the Featherington's; so when Portia finds out, she sees Penelope in a completely different light, and they have a bonding moment. Maybe in lieu of a big reveal like in the book, at the end of the season the Queen finds out, and instead of exposing her, now she and Penelope sort of work together, aligning their agendas. This elevates the importance of Penelope's work, low key spying for the Queen and reporting on things to manipulate general society. BUT I think Eloise is leaning more to the politically radical side of things, and Penelope's work is now sort of leaning in the opposite direction of that. Despite this, they still find a way to be close friends, despite their very different agendas.

Colin does a big gesture on how he's proud of being with Penelope, that he'll flaunt it in public for all to know.

[glitteringsunshine]

Pairing : Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader wife

Jethro's   POV:

I enter home and the delicious smell of dinner hits my nose. I see Y/N cooking pasta. I tried to dip my finger and taste the sauce but she swats my hand away.

“ So is this your way of telling sorry ?” I smirk.

“ Yes. Well technically  not for apologising  for what I did but for the trouble I put you and your team in” she says with her eyes staring at the floor.

I pulled her chin up. “ So stealing  a cellphone logged into evidence, contacting a world renowned spy , luring him into US soil, that’s okay for you.” I say angrily.

“ Hey , NCIS ‘s agenda was catching the navy personnel leaking secrets.  We tried to do it the official way , asking you to cut that guy a deal to get to our spy, her handler, or give up his cellphone to get his  location, but you were more interested in protecting  navy secrets that you don’t want to share with state. We had to act. You got the small fish, but we required the big fish who tried to wrecked havoc in the relationship  between  our allies, sabotaging talks and treaties things that you guys are not even aware of. “ She sighs.

“ You stole evidence, not a big deal. We have the confession , other evidences. But I wish  you would have told me.  I could have helped you. Damn it Y/N , why didn’t you trust me?”

“ Plausible deniability Jethro. I didn’t  want you to get in trouble at work. I mean state and defence don’t always see eye to eye. I didn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.”

“ Y/N love , I understand  what you did. You were doing  your job. But that doesn’t mean  I am not angry.”

“ I know Jethro” she said gently cupping my face and brushing her lips against mine.  

“Kids are at their sleepover?” I ask as she nods in the affirmative.

I grabbed her wrists , pushed her against the wall and pinned her helps on top of her head.  I kissed her demandingly.  I carried her on to the bed and laid her down. Getting in top of her , I pinned her arms and lifted her dress.  I pushed my fingers inside her. She was soaking.

“ No panties. Already wet . You naughty girl” I chuckle.

“ Someone’s  hard too. I can feel it” she retorts back grinning.

“ Well well well aren’t  you a brat Mrs Gibbs” I chuckle back.  Unzipping my pants I slowly slid into her with slow shallow thrusts,  earning a moan from her. I gradually increased my pace slowing everytime she was at the brink of climax.

“ Jethro” she growled. 

“ What love?” I smirked. “ What do you want baby?”  

“ Jethro , Oh fuck , Jethro?”

“Shh be a good girl baby” I whisper.

“ Ohh ohh ohh” she moans.

“ Do you wanna cum baby?”

“ Yes Jethro”

“ Then ask me nicely” I chuckle.

“ Jerk” she whispers.

“ Yes, as you say” I say slowing my pace and edging her again.

“ Jethro , Please,  please let me cum”she shouts.

I increased my pace. “ Let go baby , cum for me.” I bit down on her neck , leaving a trail of hickeys.

She unfurled at my command as her sweet moans filled our home.

“On your hands and knees” I commanded. She took her place, face on the pillow ,ass up on the air. I pinned back her hands slamming myself inside her from behind as I grabbed her hips.

 

“ Jethro , I can’t hold it any more” she gasps.

“ Go ahead baby. You can cum. You don’t need my permission.  I felt her walls convulse as she milked my cock. I gently laid her on her back before entering her again. She flipped me on my back and pinned my arms as she ground on me.  

“ If you want to be on top , just ask” I chuckle.

She built her pace moving her hips. As she reached her climax, she  let go off my hands. I grabbed her and flipped her on her back, wrapping her legs around me.

“ Y/N I am close” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

“ Me too” she whispers back.

We reached our peak together, holding each other tightly.   We panted our foreheads touching together. I claimed her lips and kissed her.  

 

“Well the pasta is all cold now” she giggled.

“ You hungry?” I ask

“ I was” she chuckles.

“ I meant the food Y/N”

“ Yea that too”

“ Gotta say I  really love my dinner, and I am not talking about food” I laugh back.  “ Don’t worry babe I will warm the pasta up.” I assured her.

“ Thanks , gotta take a shower I smell of sex” she giggles.

“ I like that” I chuckle. “ Though I would love to join  you in the shower” I grinned.

“ Yep” she giggled. I carried her to the shower. I kissed her making my way to her neck ,collarbone and then took her nipples in my mouth. Cupping and kneading her breasts, I knelt down on the floor , tonguing her clit in circles.  As I increased  my speed of eating her out,  she grabbed my hair , arching her hips on my tongue and came hard. She pulled me up, tasting herself on me. She rubbed my chest and stomach before kneeling down on her knees.  I rubbed her lips with my thumb , before she took my fingers, sucking on them ,giving me a preview  of what she intended to do. She gently rubbed her fingers on my hardness, before Licking the tip. Slowly she took me in her mouth , her tongue feeling like warm velvet. She bobbed her head up and down alternating her pace as I moaned. When the first spurt of my cum hit her mouth, she licked it. She aimed my cock rubbing it as the  second load of cum hit her breasts, before taking me inside her and swallowing the rest. I pulled her up, kissing her and Licking the cum off her breast making her cum one more time by rubbing her clit.  I held her by her waist as she put my arms around my neck.

…

After dinner I sat on the couch with her sitting in between my legs. I was gently rubbing circles on her back as she laid her head against my shoulder. I held her close to me as we kissed. “ I love you” I whisper smiling.

“ I love you too dear” she smiles back.

[seongwave]

⎙  » hidden agendas

pairing : lee woojin x kang!oc

synopsis : taunting the taboo couple.

warning : lowercase intended. not proofread. revenge. mentions of pedophilia. implied nsfw. usage of korean words.

a/n : a continuation of vengeance ?? and to the anon in my inbox, i definitely agree with you ! we need more hierarchy fics !

observing as their teacher strolled with a new hermes sack was a sight to see for chae. she was doing her best not to chuckle at how proud their pedophile teacher was, flaunting it.

'hmm, let's see,' chae thought as she planned things in her mind.

sitting on a stool at the bar in the private club known among the certain group of friends, chae patiently waited for a man to take the bait.

'well, that wasn't so hard,' chae thought, smiling slightly as she felt the next stool beside her become occupied by a certain man.

"never saw you around here before, what's your name?" woojin asked after ordering a drink, observing the girl next to him.

"chae laurent, pleased to meet you, mr.?" chae held out a hand, smiling slightly and batting her eyes at the man. seducing her target.

"lee woojin, a delight" woojin greeted her, holding her hand and kissing the back of it while tenderly caressing it, feeling like he had ensnared the girl when in reality, it was the opposite.

events unfolded and they found themselves in woojin's studio. bodies was shared throughout the night.

the ringing of a phone stirred them awake, with chae being the first to rise and woojin just stirring. noticing the caller's name, H, she smirked slightly and chose to answer the call.

"woojin? where are you?" their worried teacher's voice came from the phone. chae wanted to answer, but a hand stopped her from speaking.

woojin snatched the phone from her grasp and hung up the call. he questioned her in frustration, "why would you do that?"

"I picked up the phone when it was ringing for a long time, assuming it was urgent," chae replied, acting naively. "but why is ms. han calling you so early in the morning?" she asked, trying to provoke him.

"It's not your concern," woojin said gruffly, trying to leave, but chae stopped him and pushed him onto the bed. "why are you getting so agitated?" chae asked as her hands explored his body, their eyes locked. and bare bodies pressed against each other.

"it's not a big deal," woojin averted his gaze, while chae chuckled. "aww, you're adorable, you think I'm clueless?" chae teased, smirking as she caught him off guard.

"oh bunny, how could a teacher like her possibly have enough money for a hermes bag?" she teased as she moved closer to his face, her hands exploring his cheeks. "i also saw you both entering the art room, just so you know," she laughed. "just what happens there" she added, smirking widely.

woojin attempted to move her aside but chae caught him off guard by connecting their lips. despite the surprise, woojin reciprocated the kiss as chae drew him in closer. pulling way, chae started putting on her clothes when woojin asked, "what do you want to keep you silent?"

"hmm, don't fret, you have accomplished enough," chae said with a smile. what he didn't know she had placed cameras around his habitat. and stole a copy of the spy cam from the pen.

in the school hallway, a sophisticated lady and a cheap girl faces each other. "ms. chae, would you be open to having a conversation?" asked the teacher.

chae chuckled when she felt the woman's fear and craving for blood, "there's no need to talk, teacher," she said with a smile. "actually, there is. please come with me," she said, grabbing her arms, which chae dismissed.

"If you don't remove your hands off of me, I will shove my fucking mouawad diamond purse into your low-cost rear end, teach."

masterlist !

[imthepunchlord]

I always felt that Nathalie always had more potential as a villain than Gabriel. Not only was she portrayed as more competent than him (she had a lot of better plans than he did, like using a fake ladybug to manipulate Chat Noir and using a sentimonster to spy on the exposed heroes), patient, and stealthy, she was also seemingly more calculating and manipulative than him. Plus she was also a lot more athletic and a better fighter, she was able to hold her own for a while against three different akuma at once (and also season 5 showed that she used to be a treasure hunter so she would probably know more about the miraculous than Gabriel (she was the one that found the butterfly, peacock, and grimoire)). Plus, I don't know if it's just me, but I always got a femme fatale vibe from her, especially as Mayura.

Well, if Nathalie was always planned to be Mayura, it'd make sense.

Mayura was initially built up as THE big bad, that she was HM's boss and "would make him look like a baby". Being his boss suggests he got the Butterfly from her, and I think there was lines in Origins where Gabriel is double checking information fed to him, which can back he knows less and is potentially a pawn in comparison.

And yeah, how Nathalie works as a villain, it could make sense if she was a bigger bad. Though I feel that potential was ruined by her being "in wuv" with him. And largely following him and his agenda (until he was a big enough idiot that she got over him; shame she wasted her time and got sick for him).

Biggest thing that bothered me about Nathalie being Mayura is that she's just another addition to the Agreste plot, semi meant to be a sort of mother figure in Adrien's life (though it does vary certain eps), and Marinette still lacks her own villain. Which is a wonder what's the point of applying the villain plot to Adrien if he's not even going to be involved in his own plot? Additional frustrations that she actually was a great visual counter to Ladybug: bright red vs dark blue, dark spots to light (pink) spots, bright pink eyes against dark sclera vs dark blue eyes against white sclera.

First time seeing her, I actually wondered if Mayura was going to have some sort of familial relation to Marinette on her mother's side, since at the time we had nothing of the Cheng side of the family and it was largely just Agreste focused so far.

But nope.

We needed more to the Agreste plot I guess. For 5 freaking seasons...

To add to the topic, I do wonder if Nathalie is one of those characters that has two earlier character concepts mashed together. It does seem like Gabriel was going to be working with a woman (who was probably early concept Emilie), and was presumably his wife/in love with him.

Mayura though, by how Zag built her up, didn't match up at all for what we got. She felt like a big upcoming threat who was going to shake up the status quo. Bring in that needed edge that HM just wasn't delivering.

But I guess that shook things up way too much. Can't have that.

So yeah, it feels like they wanted femme fatale Mayura but also lady in love with villain and doing evil because it's what he wants and mashed the two concepts together.

Not to say it couldn't work but man it was awkwardly done. And frustrating.

[actual-changeling]

We need to talk about the Archangel Michael.

No, seriously we NEED to talk about Michael because I think she's going to be way more important than we currently think.

(quick side note: I will be jumping between pronouns for everyone involved because I go by vibes and also bc I'm trans and I like doing it. Hopefully it won't be too confusing, but I'll try to make it clear who I am talking about.)

So! Welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner. In accordance with the usual essay rules, let's begin with my hypothesis before we go down a long, probably very unhinged spiral.

I completely underestimated how thorough I was going to be, so to not overwhelm everyone with a miles long post, I will be dividing this meta into parts and will post them as I finish them.

A lot of small details have been fluttering around my mind over the last few weeks, and I think I am finally starting to put all the pieces together—and there are a LOT.

Part 1: Season One and Michael's Rank

We know them as one of the three (four—but that's another post) Archangels next to Gabriel and Uriel. While Gabriel's title was that of the Supreme Archangel, Michael's is explicitly stated in episode one of season two as 'duty officer', which, broadly speaking, makes them the Watcher, the one in charge in the case of Gabriel's absence for whatever reason, taking command where he can't; usually that probably meant him simply being busy and not him being unemployed and naked.

Their position is further signified by their ring, which resembles the Ophanim, the many-eyed angel wheels.

They are the one to keep a literal eye on things—they find pictures of Aziraphale and Crowley in S1 in the Observation Files, they watch over the heavenly hosts, they oversee plans, everything.

Michael even takes it a step further and (presumably created) the grapevine with hell, having direct contact to higher ranking demons such as Ligur, most likely also Dagon, and Beelzebub.

This is where we get to my theory: Michael is actively working with demons against both heaven and hell. It doesn't mean that they care about preserving earth, though they might later on, but that whatever plans heaven currently has are to be stopped.

I'm going to take this one step further and say that Michael also knew about Gabriel and Beelzebub, and helped him escape.

Now to the fun part: the evidence!

In season one, they are interested in stopping Crowley and Aziraphale from preventing the apocalypse, but that does not mean that they agree with the plans heaven has for said event—only that they need it to happen so their own agenda can stay on track. She has information she technically shouldn't, like, well, literally all the details about how, when, and what is going to go down

This is due to heaven and hell's general cooperation, which is its own post, but all of that runs through them.

That 'apparently' is doing a lot of heavy lifting here, it's the basic and plausible deniability that's required for them to not be in trouble. She is also in charge of ORGANIZING the troops, fulfilling her role as a navigator.

On top of that, the way she talks to Ligur highly mirrors the way two covert operatives might talk to one another, using phrases like 'our man' and 'working for you'. The mere assumption Michael makes here, that Aziraphale could be a spy, implies that there ARE already spies and angels working for hell.

Consorting with the enemy is allowed as long as it is done within a very specific framework, so Michael and Ligur are free to do so, while Aziraphale and Crowley are working outside of it, which gives heaven & hell the basis to punish them for it.

I think the phrasing of this sentence is also quite interesting.

Not "time to come back to heaven" or anything along the lines that takes Aziraphale's ethereal status into account, no, she simply says he needs to 'choose sides'—and who is to say that he needs to choose heaven or that heaven and hell are the only sides one can choose? Additionally, Michael is the one to bring the holy water to hell while they send one of the Erics, and while the trial as a whole holds a certain tension, there does not seem to be any open animosity between him and the dukes of hell.

In short, Michael is working with hell behind the scenes, likely pursuing their own goals, and standing in opposition to heaven.

Moving on to season two, and here it gets REALLY fun.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

(hopefully it will just be five. it was supposed to be two. then three. but here we are)