#but he WAS initially very flirty w me and sort of asked me out 'if we ever get out of this' (quarantine) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1kook · 5 years ago

Text

late fee

jeon jeongguk x (f) reader

summary: “Captain Underpants isn’t glorified by all the tryhards, so when I pick those books, you’re unknowingly more interested in me.” tags: f2l, flirty kook, jk’s obsession w/captain underpants, he’s a fuckboy but he’s a soft fuckboy dont get it twisted, campus boy crush jk(yes again), jk abuses the FuCK out of pet names, miss koo1aid actually writes some PLOT warnings: much flirting, nsfw bc of a lot of heavy petting, pussy eatin’, a lil dirty talk, very s l i g h t coochie sniffing, BUT!!! protected sex :) wc: 10.3k

i wrote another fic (applause) and the entire thing is based off my belief that jungkook 10000% would enjoy captain underpants books. not proofread bc i am a hermit and speak to exactly 0 ppl on here, que dios los bendiga

“Helloooo, sexy librarian,” Jeongguk says the moment he steps through the door, lopsided grin adorning his features as he swaggers over to obnoxiously lean against your desk. You can’t even pretend you didn’t see him, his presence so blaringly consuming, and evident in the way some dorky high schoolers glance over to gawk at him.

“What book are you checking out today, Jeon?” You muse instead, leaving your desk chair to head over to the stack of new books that needed to be stamped. As you turn, Jeongguk whistles at the sight, and you don’t even have it in you anymore to retort back the same way you would when he first started bugging you. “Also, are you aware that your copy of Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants is due tomorrow? It’s a dollar for every day it’s late—”

“You needn’t worry longer, baby,” Jeongguk interrupts, and the loud smack of a hardcover against the desk catches your attention. There lies Jeongguk’s Captain Underpants book, alongside the paperback copy of Beloved that has definitely seen better days.

You furrow your brows. “When did you check out this one?” You question, checking the spine to make sure the book belongs to your library. Much to your surprise, there’s no barcode on the side, and no stamp on the inside.

Your question goes unanswered as Jeongguk jumps into a full-length novella recapture of the hot frat party he’d been to last weekend, and how the Zeta Theta Psi guys knew how to party. That Jimin fellow that Jeongguk frequently mentions had apparently snorted a line of coke off their friend Seokjin’s broad shoulders just to prove his friend had godly proportions. It’s weird, but Jeongguk says it’s because you have to ride for your bros. You try to act uninterested, but Jeongguk’s a funny guy, really, and you can only hide so many chuckles with the sound of a stamp.

He’s in the middle of trying to cover up of one of his frequent trysts after accidentally exposing himself—”Don’t get it twisted, baby, I just took her upstairs to call her friend.”—when Namjoon comes out of the back room looking for you. He barely glances at your guest, before handing you a list of overdue books.

“Would you mind calling these people?” He asks, voice soft, just as everything else was about Namjoon. “They’re all a week past.”

“Yikes,” you say, eyes scanning over the list. Surprisingly, Jeongguk is still there, hovering over you as if waiting for you to dismiss him. “Do you mind, Jeon?” You say, channeling your best customer service voice. As much as Namjoon was wary of him, he still considered Jeongguk a patron in your establishment and hated to see him treated poorly, no matter how many library rules Jeongguk broke.

“Of course,” he sighs, and you miss the hostile glare he throws Namjoon when you whirl around for a highlighter. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart,” he says when you turn back around, stretching ana rm in your direction.

Half of you knows exactly what he’ll do, but the other half of you, the one trying desperately to act like his advances have no effect on you, have you placing your palm in his. You’re not super surprised when he tugs your hand upward, pecking your knuckles with a flirty wink. “Adios, Juliet,” he smirks.

“Wrong language,” you inform him, rolling your eyes nonchalantly even though your heart is beating one hundred miles per second. Jeongguk cackles, loud as all hell in the silent library, before making his exit.

It’s silent for all of twenty seconds before Namjoon jumps right into it. “So are you seeing him, or…” he interrogates, trying to act like he’s hardly interested, but you’ve known and worked alongside Namjoon long enough to know he’s secretly the community gossip.

You ignore him, choosing to jam the buttons on the phone instead.

The weird thing about Jeongguk, was that, although he was notoriously known amongst the undergraduates (and even some graduates, because he just had it like that, you suppose) as one of the biggest fuckboys, he was different. Not to sound like every teen romcom you’d ever scanned, but he genuinely was. For starters, he’d fuck your brains out and then make you his best friend the morning after. He definitely had a very peculiar, and backwards, way of doing the whole one night stand thing.

All this you’ve gathered from your friends, who, at one point have had some sort of encounter with Jeongguk. Dahyun’s was last spring at a club event, when he’d oh so smoothly flirted with her for a solid hour before realizing she didn’t swing that way. Which is how they become close friends, which is how, by association, Jeongguk set his sights on you.

Your introduction to Jeongguk wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; he’d been tagging along behind Dahyun like a lost puppy, begging her for some class notes, and had subsequently followed her all the way to your favorite meeting place. From then, he’d dropped his petulant, childish act and put on his macho face, chest puffed and eyes hooded as he devoured your very presence.

The next time you see him, it’s at a frat party where some guy had been harping on you go upstairs with him. Another weird thing about Jeongguk, he hated when other fuckboys didn’t utilize their brains. You assume it’s because it gives the fuckboy community a bad rep as a whole, but Jeongguk hated when guys were overbearing. So he’d taken the initiative to snatch you away from that fellow, guiding you all the way back to Dahyun and friends just to make sure you were alright. Somewhere along the way, you’d informed him you worked at the local library—”The one that does bingo on Tuesdays?” “That’s for senior citizens only, why do you know that?”—and he’d never left you alone again.

This time, he spots you in the dining hall.

“You come here often, dollface?” He says the moment he slides up beside you, instantly zeroing in on the burrito wrap on your plate. Like the little immature baby he is, his hand immediately snakes out to touch the precariously wrapped white tortilla holding the deliciousness inside, and you have to physically slap the offender away. He jumps, bumping into a girl standing in line behind him, not that particularly cares. “So, it’s fuck Jeongguk hours, huh?” He huffs, adorning his face with that uppity glare he mastered from watching Mean Girls on repeat a few months ago.

“Your plate is stacked, but you wanna grab the one thing on mine,” you point out, and his lips curl into a smile at your response. “By the way, your book is past due.”

At this he gasps, all real, no Regina George effects added. “You’re lying,” he chokes, switching his plate to his other hand, and you nearly jump when the muffin balancing dangerously on top shifts. He tugs his phone out of the pocket of his sweats, scanning through his remind app until he sees that his book is overdue by three days. He groans, staring at the ceiling in shame.

You nod, breezing over his inner meltdown. “Was wondering when we were gonna get the wedgie winner, or whatever its called, back.”

He scoffs, giving you an unimpressed glare. “Wrath of the Wicked Wedgie Woman,” he corrects, looking so disappointed that you don’t have these bizarre titles memorized. “For such a pretty librarian, you sure are ignorant to these literary masterpieces.”

This makes you cackle, and your cheeks flush when at least three people turn to stare at your outburst. “You aren’t seriously calling these Captain Underpants books masterpieces,” you snort. Jeongguk shrugs, and you begin to wonder if he really is as airheaded as the characters he admires. “Jeon,” you try to reason, giving him a pleading look, because arguing the credibility of kids novels in line for lunch simply does not seem real. You must have been warped into another dimension where all pretty boys are as dumb as the movies make them out to seem.

“Listen,” he says, smiling when you grow desperate for him to prove you wrong. “I’ve read a lot of good books, but nothing tops a hypnotized superhero principal fighting crime in his underwear.”

You sigh, paying for your meal, and then, surprisingly, waiting for him to pay for his. You tell yourself it’s because you want to finish this conversation, but part of you just genuinely enjoys being in Jeongguk’s presence. Gag.

“I saw you with Beloved last week,” you carry on the second he’s done giving flirty eyes to the middle-aged cashier. “Now that’s a masterpiece.”

He nods in agreement. “But, baby,” he purrs, and the sudden switch from weird, 12 year-old literary enthusiast to grown as hell, suave bastard has you jolting a step that you try to play off by pretending to look at something on the ground. “How else will you remember my face?”

You blank. “What the hell are you talking about.”

Jeongguk gives you a pointed look. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t remember a damn thing about me if I did what every other stuck-up bastard did trying to pick up chicks at the library.” You tilt your head in confusion. Jeongguk sighs. “If I went in every rainy Friday and checked out a Tale of Two Cities, or Oliver Twist, or some other Charles Dickens shit, you wouldn’t glance my way.”

“Do people still read Dickens?” You say instead, glossing over the fact that apparently Jeongguk’s visits were apparently blatant attempts to flirt with girls. Finally, you find a suitable spot at a long, dinner table so you don’t have to sit completely alone with Jeongguk.

“You know damn well better than I do that that those wannabe sophisticated books have waitlists.” He shoves half a pizza slice into his mouth, and you hate how your eyes immediately laser in on the strong movements of his jaw. “My point is,” he says through a greasy mouthful. “Captain Underpants isn’t glorified by all the tryhards, so when I pick those books, you’re unknowingly more interested in me.”

You cradle your burrito in your palms, rolling his words around your head for a bit. Jeongguk doesn’t particularly seem like he’s awaiting an answer, munching through the mountain of food on his plate as you revel in your thoughts.

It’s right when you go to take your first bite that you finally come to a conclusion. “But have you ever considered I’m interested in you because I think you’re funny?”

Silence. Jeongguk stares at you through his fringe, pizza slice slowly going limp in his hold as he absorbs your words. Before you know it, his ears flush red. He splutters. “I-You think I’m funny?” He asks, cheeks slowly growing rosy as well, and his lips quirk in a cute way to the side, as if he’s trying desperately to hide his excitement.

You nod, because it’s true, why would you lie? “Duh. You come in every week and just talk about your day, Jeongguk,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “I think you’re very interesting and entertaining without trying.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, and for the first time, you’re thrown off by how adorable this man looks, lips pressed tight to contain a smile from your compliments.

Realization hits you all at once, but you’ve long since trained in the fluid art of avoiding your emotions.

“There’s a party tonight,” Dahyun announces from her desk, not even bothering to glance at you when you return from the showers. You hum, not really that interested in whatever is going on this fine Thursday evening. You plop down at your own desk, starting your skincare routine.

Dahyun lets you relax in the soothing motions of self care for all of three seconds before she adds, “Jeongguk wanted to know if you’re coming.”

You press down too hard on the pump of your moisturizer, sending a large glomp onto the tips of your fingers. “That’s nice,” you say, trying to play it off, but you doubt Dahyun hadn’t heard the little spaz you had, or that she couldn’t sense the way your body immediately lit aflame at the mention of him and you in the same sentence.

She turns in her seat, and you catch sight of her in your mirror. You avert your eyes right away, because Dahyun had many talents, and her best one was reading your mind with a single gaze. You maintain an aura of unbothered and uninterested, finishing with the rest of your skincare.

Just when you think you’re safe, Dahyun pounces.

“Y’know,” she says, and you can hear the grin in her voice. “He hasn’t slept with anyone in almost a month. In fuckboy time, that’s the equivalent of two years.”

You roll your eyes, putting away your products before trying to busy yourself with anything else. “He probably has, but with people who know how to keep their mouths shut.”

Faintly, you hear Dahyun’s chair scrape against the carpet, and then suddenly she has you in a headlock. “Admit you like Jeongguk or I will throw your toothbrush into the toilet on the third floor.”

You choke, grappling her arms in an attempt to pry her off. “No,” you huff, switching tactics to tangle a hand in her silver locks. “Why would I confess to something that isn’t true?”

She shrieks when you give a sharp tug, sending her careening sideways against the foot of your bed, but not without taking you with her. “You are lying to yourself and to the entire librarian community, you sick fuck.”

You snort. “The fuck does Namjoon have to do with this?”

“He told me Jeongguk’s been bringing you Starbucks.”

Her reveal has you halting in your tracks, cheeks flushing at being exposed. “That gossiping fuck,” you seethe, finally loosening your grip on your friend. Somehow, you’ve ended up sprawled on the floor of her side of the room, nestled into the stupidly fluffy carpet she thrifted. She rolls onto her belly, propping herself up on her elbows to narrow her eyes at you.

“So it’s true,” she sighs. You shrug. “Well,” she claps her hands together. “Shimmy into that sexy dress from Windsor, we’re going out.”

You groan, rolling over in metaphorical agony. “Dude, I just washed my face. No way in hell, I’m putting on makeup now.” She considers your point for negative three seconds.

“The Glow Kit is in my bottom left drawer,” she announces right as she exits the room with her towel and shower essentials in hand.

The Glow Kit is in fact in Dahyun’s drawer, which is a little suspicious considering it’s the same one you thought you lost three months ago. Nonetheless, it never lets you down, and by the time you’re done with your makeup, you’re looking like a shimmering, little succubus in the hot dress from Windsor.

Normally, you and your self-esteem were rivals; never on the same page, always bickering, sworn enemies from birth. But right now, as you admire yourself in the closet mirror, you can’t help but marvel at how good you look in the slightly loose dress.

“Damn,” Dahyun says as soon as she returns, all fluffy in her towel. “You will fuck tonight, or else.”

“Hey, baby,” Jeongguk smiles at you the moment you walk in, hooded eyes raking over your body in an agonizingly slow manner. Dahyun chooses then to do her party trick—disappearing without a word.

“Hi…” you respond, voice meek in this party setting. There’s more people than you anticipated, which is weird because it’s a Thursday and surely some of these people have morning classes. You can’t comment, though, because you’re here knowing damn well you have an eight am tomorrow.

The music is blasting, so loud you can feel the bass shaking the floor, sending jolts up from your toes to your head with every beat. There’s people in every crevice of this household, some even taking refuge on the staircase leading up to the bedrooms. Someone brushes by you, and you instinctively step closer to the wall to avoid being in the way. You should have known Jeongguk would follow.

He ducks down to shout into your ear. “Wasn’t sure if you were coming tonight,” he tells you, right as one of his friends rushes by, thrusting a cup into his hand that Jeongguk doesn’t even stop to question. He takes a sip, then offers you some.

“Dahyun didn’t wanna come alone,” you lie, tentatively sipping from his cup only to realize it’s worse than any alcohol here: it’s Sprite. Jeongguk seems amused by your subtle disgust, immediately taking the cup back. You send out a light prayer for his stomach and his skin. “Aren’t you supposed to be out pulling hoes or something?” You say, trying to go for teasing and playful but missing by a mile.

Jeongguk grins. “Why would I do that when the only girl I want is right here,” he motions, and then does that cliche move where he places a hand by the wall behind you. The worst thing is, even though Jeongguk seems intent on pulling every cheesy act known to mankind, your heart actually races.

“Shut up,” you laugh, “you just like that I don’t charge you the late fees on your books.”

At this, Jeongguk genuinely smiles, nose scrunching up as he gazes at you. “False,” he argues, and then leans forward, same stupid dopey smile on his face. “I love a woman who snorts milk out of her nose.”

“Jeon!” You shriek, smacking his arm as embarrassment washes over you. “You said you would forget about that!”

Jeongguk cackles, all boyish and rough like he does when he’s around Hoseok for too long. Somehow, knowing you’re the cause of that charming laughter has your annoyance fading away, a soft smile crawling onto your features.

“I hate you,” you say instead, looking up and meeting his gaze dead on for the first time that night.

Jeongguk smirks. “Do you now?” He throws back, then takes a step forward. Your shoulder touches the wall when you take a tentative step back. You give a half-assed shrug, entranced by the playfulness that lurks behind his eyes. He gives you an exaggerated pout. “That sucks, because I,” he steps closer again, and this time he’s looking down at you over the bridge of his nose, “really like you.”

“I…” you trail off, too hypnotized by the pink tongue that swipes across his lips as he gazes at you. There is no hesitation on his face.

When you don’t say anything for another moment, Jeongguk ducks down. His nose bumps against yours, his breath warm as it fans across your face. “Y’know, I’d treat you so right,” he suddenly says, and your panties immediately turn into Niagara Falls at the newfound deepness of his voice. You feel lightheaded from his close proximity and promising words. “Could make you feel so good, baby, if you just let me.”

You shiver, nearly jumping out of your skin when a hand snakes its way around your waist, tugging you forward gently. Not overbearingly, because you know the last thing Jeongguk would ever do was want to make you uncomfortable. He pulls you close enough that it ends up being you who steps completely into his embrace. Your trembling hands find their place on his shoulders, and Jeongguk has never looked more content.

“You... only want sex,” you softly accuse, and the only reason your quiet voice doesn’t get lost in the noise is because of how close the two of you are.

Jeongguk bites his lip at your words, and you wonder if part of him is surprised that you’d so openly say such a thing. “Not with you,” he says eventually. “Wanna hold you like this forever, ___. And if that leads to you cumming on my tongue every now and then, well,” he smiles, “all fine by me.”

“Jeon,” you scold, scared that someone might have heard him.

“What?” He grins, pressing impossibly closer. His lip gives the slightest pucker, and you find yourself unconsciously leaning closer, the hand around your waist tightening. “I want you, baby.”

You can’t hide the lovestruck expression on your face as you look between his mouth and his eyes, and you wonder if he’s being honest.

Right as you’re about to throw all your doubts out the window and kiss him, you’re bombarded with the sound of obnoxious air horns from a DJ who obviously knows shit about, well, DJ-ing.

You jump at the sudden sound, bumping your head against the wall behind you. Jeongguk’s eyes widen. “Oh shit, are you okay?” He fusses, all traces of that suave, heartthrob replaced with a fretful Jeon.

“I’m fine,” you say, though you’re not because you’re absolutely dying right now. From the fact you almost gave into Jeongguk but also the embarrassment of hitting your head. “I-I need to find Dahyun,” you announce, and give Jeongguk no time to process that before you’re bolting into the crowded house like you just broke something.

jeon tell me you got home safe jeon please

You pause in the middle of removing your makeup, one eyelash on to symbolize the mess you are right now. Dahyun is humming some tune as she does the same, the both of you clad in your pajamas and fuzzy socks. Carefully, you pick up your phone.

you im home! me and the girls ubered home lol you sorry i didnt get to say goodbye :(

jeon dont worry abt it babe jeon just happy to know ur ok

“You better be texting Jeongguk, since you failed to complete the one job you had tonight,” Dahyun calls and you curse. You whirl around to face her, and she snorts at your one eyelash.

“Be honest,” you say. “If you were the campus crush who could get coochie every time he breathed, would you leave all that for me?”

Dahyun freezes. “Well, not when you’re only wearing one eyelash.” You groan, flopping into your seat uncomfortably. “Babe,” Dahyun sighs, as if sensing the gravity of your dilemma. “You’re hot! Everyone knows this except you.”

“But am I?” You whine. “Am I attractive or do you just feel obligated to say that because you’re my friend, be honest.”

“Oh my god,” she huffs, climbing into her bed, phone in hand. She doesn’t even bother looking your way when she’s all settled in. “You have this weird idea that Jeongguk is some intangible idol, as if you haven’t seen the dude deepthroat an entire bratwurst at the diversity fair. If anything, you’re the dream girl on campus, you stupid bitch.”

“The only true thing I heard is me being a stupid bitch,” you mope, and Dahyun throws a pillow at your face. You take this attack as initiative to finally take off your other lash, finishing your cleansing and moisturizing (for the second time) routine.

“Listen,” she says, setting her phone down to stare you dead in the eye. Her voice is devoid of any emotion. “If it makes you feel better, he wrote JK + __ on our group handout last week.”

You don’t sleep that night.

The last person you’re expecting to see at this secluded cafe on a Saturday morning was Jeon Jeongguk, yet here he was in all his delicious morning glory. By morning glory, you mean the soft, sleepy eyes that stare at you from across the table, voice so deep and husky.

“Why are you here if you just woke up?” You interrogate, settling into the empty seat in front of him. Carefully, you begin pulling things out of your bag, trying your best to not look away too long. This sight was rare, Jeongguk usually being at an energy level of about eighty seven at all times. To see him so tired and sluggish was unheard of.

He gestures over to where Taehyung is in the middle of what looks like a job interview. “Moral support,” Jeongguk informs you. You nod in understanding, before returning your gaze to the sleepy angel in front of you.

He’s ridiculously tired, eyes dropping shut every time you so much as pause for a second. He seems apologetic too, murmuring I’m sorry I’m sorry whenever his eyes flutter shut. Your heart was going haywire at the sight. “Jeon,” you say softly, and get one, soft hum in response. “I think you should go home, Taehyung seems fine.”

He shakes his head. “Needs me,” he murmurs, trying desperately to snap his eyes back open to no avail. Eventually, you make the call, packing your things up way earlier than usual. You haul Jeongguk out of his seat, him sleepily trailing after you as you drag him out of the shop. He sleeps on the short bus ride back to campus, and even almost sleeps on the elevator up to his dorm.

“In we go,” you announce, unlocking his door before nudging him inside. His roommate is nowhere to be found, oddly enough given the early hour. Jeongguk stumbles inside, plopping down on his bed right away. “Sleep.”

He lets out a high pitched whine the moment you turn to leave. “Come cuddle,” he huffs, face pressed against his pillow. His hair’s haloed around him, pout smushed against the cushion as he stares at you.

“You need to sleep,” you point out.

He rolls onto his back, patting the mattress beside him. “Wanna feel you,” he says. Your cheeks flush red. As if realizing the meaning behind his words, sleepy little Jeongguk takes the initiative to push you further. “Pressed against my body,” he drawls, his deep chuckle resonating throughout your body. “C’mon, baby, too scared to be in bed with me?”

You scoff, though your cheeks are warm. “You wouldn’t do anything anyway, you’re half asleep.”

Jeongguk shrugs, lips quirking to the side as he motions to his side again. “So? Can tell you like it slow anyway,” he grunts, before sitting up and shuffling to the edge of the bed and assuming a sitting position. Without warning, he catches your wrist in his hand and tugs you between his spread thighs.

He’s more awake than he’s been all morning, and part of you is happy but the other is anxious. God, was this boy dangerous.

“You’re half asleep, Jeon,” you say, trying to diffuse the sudden sexual tension. Jeongguk smiles up at you.

“Cmon, baby,” he exhales, and one fluid tug has you plopping onto his thigh. You startle at the sudden change, grabbing onto his shoulders for support. All he does is laugh some more, nuzzling his face against your neck as your heart goes into panic mode. “Bet I could get in so deep,” he murmurs, breath tickling your neck and you feel your legs turn to jelly.

“G-Gguk,” you try to warn, but it ends up sounding more like a plea. For what, you’re not entirely sure.

A sudden kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder has your spirit ascending into another plane. Jeongguk smiles at your pliant body. “Look at you,” he continues, kissing down your neck until your body is physically quivering. “So sensitive. No one ever touched you like this before, doll?”

You shake your head no, and nearly jump out of your own skin when a hand clasps onto the inside of your thigh. “Jeon, we shouldn’t…” you choke out, even though your traitorous hand clamps down on his and pushes it closer to where you need him most.

“We shouldn’t?” He teases, and then cups your sex.

You transcend.

Jeongguk laughs, airy chuckles fanning across your jaw. “Then stop,” he tells you, the both of you watching as your hips unconsciously grind into his palm. Even when you tell yourself you need to stop, your body feels heavenly being touched by him, so you physically can’t.

“I can’t,” you reiterate, and muffle a moan against the side of his face when he presses a finger down on where he knows your clit is hiding. The thin leggings you’d worn did nothing to spare you.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he sighs, watching you work yourself on his hand. He traces his index finger over the seam of your leggings, where your folds meet and you moan again. “You gonna let me finish you off, princess? Gonna let me finger your tight little pussy until you cry? But I bet you’d make the prettiest noises if I licked you down there. Or are you gonna cum in your panties like this?”

All the different ideas he stuffs into your brain are overwhelming, especially when the only thing you really want is to be stuffed with his fingers and cock. “J-Just do it,” you beg.

“Do what?” He plays, watching the way your face contorted with every brush against your mound.

“Whatever you want,” you cry, biting down on your fist to stop any more noises from spilling out.

Jeongguk smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Such a simple gesture, but it has your stomach somersaulting. God, you needed this. You were practically sobbing for his dick, which was embarrassing in itself, but actually getting dicked down sort of cancelled it out. PEMDAS or whatever.

Just as his hand creeps to the hem of your leggings, there’s a rattle of the doorknob, and you jump. The cloud of lust that had engulfed you two fades away and you’re suddenly aware of the jingling of a key outside.

“What the fuck,” Jeongguk whisper-shouts, looking absolutely scandalized that his roommate is coming home at this moment of all moments.

“Should I hide?” You whisper back, never having been in such a situation before. Jeongguk looks at you like you’re stupid.

“Just,” he sighs, standing up. He ruffles his hair anxiously. “Just… act natural.”

You sit perfectly still. “Not like a Sim!!”

“Captain Underpants and the Invasion of the Incredibly Naughty Cafeteria Ladies from Outer Space (and the Subsequent Assault of the Equally Evil Lunchroom Zombie Nerds),” you read, gasping for breath by the end of it. Jeongguk beams at you. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope,” Jeongguk says, leaning over the counter and watching as you scan his book under his name. “I’ll let you know how it is.”

You roll your eyes, writing down the return date on a piece of paper you stuff inside. “Please do, I’m absolutely dying to read this book.”

You hand the book over to Jeongguk, and try to ignore the way he stares at you for a second too long. Namjoon chooses this exact moment to take his lunch break, sauntering off whistling the the Angry Birds tune.

Right before Jeongguk can jump into an interrogation, the door swings open and Jisoo from your sociology elective saunters in, carrying the same mountain of books you had checked out for her two weeks ago.

“___, hi!” She exclaims right away. She, too, was infected with the same bimbo disease as Jeongguk, the one where they both had no concept of being quiet in a library.

“Hi,” you greet back, immediately standing to take the books from her. “Did you actually read through all of these?” You ask, trying to make polite small talk. You’re not particularly close to her, but it’d be rude to act like you didn’t know her.

She laughs at your comment. “Oh god, no. I just open random pages and reference them for essays,” she admits.

You try to make more small talk with her as you scan through her books, but the girl literally almost hit the material limit, which is fifty books, so you soon become consumed in scanning the barcode, briefly flipping through the book for any damage, and then repeating it all over. You’re not surprised when she drifts away, and you’re mentally cursing Namjoon for going on break now of all times.

It’s about ten minutes later when you’re all done, the computer’s library system going haywire on you, the same way it had when she first checked out all these books. You look away from the screen, standing to face Jisoo, only to find she’s drifted to the other end of the welcome desk, where a certain someone had gone to while you served her.

Oh.

You’re not anticipating the wave of jealousy that hits you watching gorgeous, smart Jisoo talk to Jeongguk. She matches him perfectly, both so beautiful it hurts. It’s when she says something to him that you snap out of it. “When can I come over again?” Soft enough that you wouldn’t have heard if you hadn’t been paying attention.

Jeongguk’s toying with a bookmark stand, but you still see the quirk of his lips on his face when she says that.

All you can do is watch from the sidelines, so close yet somehow miles away as he says something back to her that gets drowned out by the thundering of your heart. You suppose it’s only natural for a guy like Jeongguk to flirt with girls, and he’d never said he only, exclusively wanted you. Really, you shouldn’t be as surprised.

But you are.

You’re surprised and, dare you say it, discouraged by the scene. He’d been so eager to finally win you over the other night, so much so that he made you feel special with every word he uttered and every look he gave you. You’d almost believed in his sincerity, but seeing him so easily converse with Jisoo about whatever past they have, served as a cold reminder that you and Jeongguk believe in two completely different relationship styles.

So you sit back down, gnawing on your lip as you try to do other duties, clicking around uselessly on your computer until eventually, Jisoo wanders back.

“Am I all set?” She smiles, and you can’t even find it in you to dislike her. You plaster on your best customer service smile, nodding and handing her back her library card. She thanks you three times over for the hassle, before waving goodbye to you and Jeongguk.

When the door falls shut behind her, you immediately drop the facade, though Jeongguk doesn’t seem to notice. “Whew. She left a lot of work for you,” he laughs, eyeing the big stack beside you. You don’t even bother responding, as, at that moment, Namjoon returns from his lunch break.

(How convenient! You swear this fucker had a sixth sense for knowing when work was about to become hard.)

“Joon, I’m taking my break now,” you announce, and Namjoon stares at you like a deer in headlights, the last bite of a sandwich raised to his mouth.

“Uh,” he says, 140 IQ and all. He glances behind you at Jeongguk, who also is confused as all hell. “Okay, then.”

“___?” Jeongguk questions. You stalk off, pushing the gate away from the desk before bursting into the employee break room right across from it.

You cry the moment you get home, and Dahyun jumps ten feet out of her bed in shock. Her girlfriend, Momo, is sitting on the floor painting her toes. “Oh no,” she cries, sweet and understanding in all the ways Dahyun wasn’t. “My poor baby, what’s wrong?” She asks, waddling over in the my-nail-polish-hasn’t-dried-yet way to hug you.

“He was flirting with another girl,” you sob, dropping your bag by the door as Momo continues fawning over you, wiping your face with tissues. Dahyun gets out of bed, cracks her fingers, and promptly announces:

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Initially, you would have let her. But after a while you manage to calm down, loud Kim Kardashian sobs fading into tiny hiccups as the two of them coddle you. You tell them all about what terrible, good for nothing Jeongguk did, and in true female solidarity, they vow to kick his ass for you. Eventually, you settle on not whooping his ass, just cutting any romantic notions with him off to avoid further heartbreak. After all, you were kinda friends before you had your little crush revelation.

It’s later in the night when you announce you maybe got 2% over him, which the girls count as an absolute win, but then Jeongguk texts you and they groan at the way you jump for your phone.

jeon hey can we talk ? jeon did I do something wrong today? jeon felt like u were mad at me lol, and then u took a really long break and I had to leave for class so I didn’t even get to see u again jeon just wanna know if everything is ok

You read through the messages a couple times, and wonder if he’s being serious and didn’t see anything sus with his actions, or if he’s just toying with your emotions. Momo tugs Dahyun away to give you some sort of privacy, and then you’re left alone in your thoughts.

you everything’s fine ! you I just wasn’t feeling well lol

He responds right away.

jeon please don’t lie to me ___ jeon I know what you’re probably thinking and I just want to say it’s not like that

For some reason, him saying he knows you enough to know your thoughts irritates you. He obviously didn’t know shit about you if he was out here making you look like a clown. Your fingers type before you can even think.

you lmao you thats funny

jeon ?

you you most def do not know what I’m thinking so please just take my word when I say I felt sick

jeon lmao. what do you mean...

you you barely know ME besides the fact I work @ the library and dorm w Dahyun. don't say u know what I’m thinking, bc that would imply you know me on a closer level which you don’t

jeon ok seriously what's up with you? jeon im trying to make sure ur okay but ur just being difficult as fuck

you I’m not being difficult I’m just being real

jeon ur not tho, ur being defensive for no reason at all

you so? we’re barely friends and we barely know each other, how I feel is none of ur business

jeon lmfaoooo, so now we’re barely friends?

you thats what I said didnt I

You set your phone aside when you don’t immediately see the texting dots appear, assuming your dry response is probably enough to ward Jeongguk off. Your face feels warm, and you’re not sure if it’s from frustration or anger, but you guess it’s both. You’re not sure what set you off, the fact Jeongguk wants to act like he knows you, as if he wasn’t just chasing after you for some pussy, or the fact he wanted to act like some all-knowing being when it came to your feelings.

Eitherway, you’re extremely heated, grinding your teeth together when five minutes pass and he hasn’t texted you back. As if sensing the tension, Momo and Dahyun abruptly announce that they’re going to the ice cream place down the street, offering to bring something back to which you decline.

They leave, the heavy door slamming shut behind them. You get exactly two seconds of peace and quiet before your phone starts going off like crazy, all from Jeongguk.

jeon you’re starting to piss me off jeon drop the attitude baby. jeon bc I can be just as mean as u jeon and I won’t hesitate to make you cry

You blink. Every ounce of your body that had been consumed with an unknown anger slowly fades away as you stare wide eyed at Jeongguk’s messages. This was nothing like the Jeongguk you knew; he was soft and playful. He never raised his voice at you, and he’d never been anything less than a sweetheart.

you I don’t have an attitude

Is your feeble reply, too scared to reply to any other part of his message because you truly had no experience with this Jeongguk.

jeon so then put your big girl pants on and tell me what’s wrong jeon enough w this other shit

You sigh, snuggling into your covers as you absentmindedly tap the back of your phone.

you nothing is wrong

He doesn’t reply for a couple minutes again, but Dahyun sends you a text letting you know her and Momo decided to go to an event on the other side of campus, and telling you not to wait up. You reply back a simple ok right as Jeongguk responds.

jeon ok. so let me tell you what’s wrong then jeon you’re mad bc I was speaking to Jisoo today and she asked abt coming over jeon she comes over all the time jeon bc she is my roommates girlfriend

Your mind goes blank.

How embarrassing to have your mind read word for word, even more so when apparently, your worries weren’t even plausible. God. Instantly you feel stupid, replaying today’s entire scene and trying desperately to find something to catch Jeongguk in a lie. But other than asking that one question, there had been no other interesting talk between the two.

Your phone pings again, and you scramble to type a response, only to freeze at the words on the screen

jeon what blows me is that i don’t even owe u shit especially not an explanation jeon u don’t give 2 flying fucks about me. U just like the attention I give u and watching me make a fool of myself for u jeon I bend over backwards chasing after you, trying to get you to notice me, but you’ve done nothing to show me u feel the same jeon but you’re the one allowed to get mad when I speak to other girls? like u said “ that’s funny ”

Oh, no. Immediately your heart comes crashing down, and your fingers tremble as you watch Jeongguk slip away right before your eyes.

you Jeongguk you it’s not like that please you I like you so much, it’s just hard for me to

jeon to what? Get over your stupid stereotype of me?? jeon lmfao. Yeah that must be sooo hard jeon it’s whatever tho bc I had one of u too jeon my dream girl

This is not what you expected when he said he’d make you cry.

“Honey, you just have to talk to him,” Momo says the next morning, pressing a cucumber slice onto your eyes. You flinch at the initial iciness, but then relax when she brushes your hair out of your face. You’d gone to sleep a wreck, crying and sobbing as you thought desperately on how to win Jeongguk back, but everything he had said was true.

You’d done nothing but reject him since the beginning, had only just begun treating him as a friend, yet you instantly placed the blame on him at the first signs of trouble. God, he was right. You’d been selfish this entire time, and now he wasn’t responding to your messages anymore.

Dahyun nods from her cocoon at the foot of your bed. “I’m sure it’ll be easier in person, text convos are always weird,” she tries to comfort you. “But keep those slices on, those bags under your eyes are no joke.”

Momo smacks her calf. “Be nice! She’s going through a crisis.”

Right as you’re about to pay for your meal and sprint back to hide in your dorm, you spot a coconut head of hair facing the windows in the far corner of the dining hall. Fuck. Faintly, you can hear Dahyun’s voice shouting for you to stop being a pussy and go talk to him. You pause by the exit, one leg in one leg out, before saying fuck it. If worse comes to worse, you transfer schools and live with heartbreak and three cats for the rest of your life.

“I-Is someone sitting here?” You say before you can chicken out, and mentally curse yourself for stuttering. Oh, the social horror.

Jeongguk visibly jumps at your voice, wide doe eyes staring at you as if he expected to never see you again. After all, it’s been a week since your little fight, three days since you last tried texting him. He shakes his head, turning his attention back to his plate, but not before tugging the hoodie of his sweater over his head in a classic self defensive tactic.

You slide into the seat, staring at the plate of food like you’ve never seen it in your life, never mind the fact you picked it out less than fifteen minutes ago. You accidentally scrape your fork against the bottom, and the both of you cringe.

Jeongguk clears his throat, hands clasped together between his thighs as he stares out the window. “Don’t you have work?” He asks, voice raspy.

You shake your head. “I took the week off,” you confess, hoping he doesn’t press for more, because then you’d have to tell him your reasoning was due to heartache.

“Oh. That’s nice,” he says, and then you fall into a pit of awkward silence.

You push the food around on your plate, hoping he’ll say something, anything to save the two of you. In the end, he stays silent, sleepily glancing out the windows.

When you look closer, though, Jeongguk doesn’t look much hot than you. He’s got the same bags as you under his eyes, and his hair looks messier than his usual messy style. The fact he’s wearing his blue crocs out in public only confirms your theory.

After a solid five minutes of silence, even your hungry stomach managing to stay quiet, you decide enough is enough.

You shift ever so slightly, until you’re somewhat facing him and clear your throat; Jeongguk barely spares you a glance. “The Preposterous Plight of the Purple Potty People,” you blurt. Jeongguk blinks, face slowly morphing into one of confusion. Your cheeks feel hot under his gaze, having missed his brown eyes in the past week. “It’s your favorite one,” you announce. “Of the Captain Underpants books.”

After a moment, Jeongguk snorts, turning his attention away from you. “You’re not gonna win me over with that,” he says curtly, and your heart tightens at his emotionless tone of voice.

But you’ve done your research, and you’re not letting it go to waste. “You like George more than Harold because you think he contributes more. You love the characterization of Mr. Krupp the most, but you hate his theme song. You think the cover art could use some work, but you enjoy the overall art style. You hated the movie adaptation because Kevin Hart was in it,” you list, recalling every bit of information you’ve ever heard Jeongguk share about the stupid novels.

There’s a small quirk in the corner of Jeongguk’s lips, but it’s not the one you’re aiming for, so you switch tactics. “You hate the smell of bananas because you don’t think it should have a smell. You can’t put your left sock on first, because it’s bad luck to you. Your mom still washes your sheets for you. You know the lyrics to the original Dragon Ball series in three languages. You like wearing rings because it makes you feel like a pimp. You hate when Hoseok calls you the baby, because, according to you, you bench press his weight times two.”

“And a half,” he softly corrects, gazing at his hands, cheeks slightly tinged with red. You bite your lip, tentatively reaching a hand out to place on his arm. He looks at you right away, doe eyes so vulnerable and scared, like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

“I said we barely knew each other, but that was a lie,” you chuckle humorlessly, suddenly feeling your eyes tear up just remembering the conversation. “I know so much about you because I love listening to you talk. I love hearing your voice, and watching you wrestle with your friends, and fight with Dahyun. But I never tell you,” you bite your lip, blinking your eyes to backtrack the tears.

“And you’re right, I made you do all the work and I’m sorry, but I’m just so scared, Jeongguk,” you admit, voice cracking on his name. Your press a hand over your mouth, trying to collect yourself. Suddenly, a soft hand gently pats your thigh, and you find yourself reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “You can have anyone, Jeongguk, and you obviously know this,” you sigh. “I’m scared that I won’t be enough for you.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jeongguk says, voice soft in the way you’ve missed so much. His hand, shaky and unsure, reaches up to brush a tear from the corner of your eye. “Look at me,” he commands, and you do. “I think we’re both stupid, because I feel like I’ve never been enough for you,” he confesses with a chuckle you try to replicate through sniffles.

Suddenly, he’s close, forehead pressed to yours. “And maybe it’s true,” he says. “You won’t be enough for me, and I’ve never been enough for you.” Your heart aches at his words. “But that’s okay,” he assures, squeezing your thigh between his fingers. “We don't have to be right now, but we can try.”

You nod, clamping down a sob. “God, I hate how optimistic you are,” you laugh, and he smiles, cupping your face in his hands.

“And I hate watching you cry,” he says, fingers wiping your cheeks. Before you can say what you’re thinking, he’s snatching the words right out of you, “yes, I know I said what I said, and I felt like such a dick typing it, I made Jimin flick my forehead right after.”

You giggle, and he beams that dreamy smile at you again. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” he announces, and your heart thunders in your chest faster than the wings of a hummingbird.

And he does.

“I don’t know, I think Kevin Hart sounds great in this,” you mention, and you feel the hard scoff Jeongguk lets out from your position cradled on his chest. “It’s not the worst thing in the world,” you defend.

“You’re sick,” he says, then pauses the Captain Underpants movie to engage in your third debate of the evening. You’re barely fifteen minutes in. “You think that weirdo did George justice? How? In what world?”

“Babe, it’s just a voice actor,” you placate. “No one died because Mr. Hart voiced him.”

Jeongguk splutters. “Mr. Hart—you don’t know this man! And something did die! My hopes for a sequel!”

You shush him, pressing your index finger to his lips. “Enough complaints, Rotten Tomatoes. We won’t even finish at this rate.”

Jeongguk hits play, grumbling under his breath.

Just as you’d predicted, you don’t even make it to the halfway mark before Jeongguk’s got you on your back, plush lips working yours until they’re bruised, tongue halfway down your throat. “The mov—“ you mumble.

“Fuck Mr. Hart,” Jeongguk says, kissing down your jaw like he can’t allow himself to miss a single spot. When he reaches the collar of your shirt, he wastes no time tugging it off of you. You whine, instinctively covering your chest. “Don’t be shy,” he chuckles, “here, look-,” he tugs his sweatshirt over his head, and you’re met with the strong muscles of his abdomen and pecs, “-twins.”

You roll your eyes. “Just kiss me, Mr. Jeon,” you tease, wrapping your hands around him to bring him closer. He chokes, and mumbles something about saving that for another time.

Before you know it, he’s kissing between your thighs, soft lips producing the most erotic sounds with every smooch he gives. “Can I take these off?” he asks, one lone finger creeping beneath the hem of your panties, right where your hip is. You nod, biting your lower lip hard the moment he begins sliding them down. His hands are soft as they glide over your legs, and when he finally tugs them away from your ankles, he wastes no time nudging your legs open for him.

“Don’t just look at it,” you whine, jabbing his ribs with your foot. Jeongguk grins.

“Sorry I stare, you’re just so pretty,” he smiles, and you muffle an annoyed groan into your palms. “Gonna eat you out now,” he announces, finally, and you uncover your face to watch the way he lowers his mouth onto your throbbing pussy, pink tongue coming out to lick at your clit.

The first press of the wet muscle has your toes curling, back arched. You’d been craving this for the longest, and just as you’d expect, it’s better than any fantasy. “Right there,” you moan, reaching down to tangle a hand in Jeongguk’s wavy hair, the other fisting the pillow beneath your head.

Jeongguk absorbs all your tiny reactions, toying with your clit just how you like it. He rolls his tongue around it, making sure every part has been in his mouth at least once. When he suctions his lips around it and moans like this was getting him off, your body melts. “Fuck,” you cry out, your thighs quivering around his head. Part of you wants to slam them shut, hide from his tongue and all its devious ministrations. But the other part has never felt so good in your entire life.

When Jeongguk decides he’s pampered your swollen clit enough, he gives it one final kiss, wet and slippery. “Good?” He smiles up at you, lips slick with your juices. You nod, probably already looking fucked out. He smirks at your response, and your heart backflips in your chest, when he reaches up to knot your fingers together.

He kisses your knuckle and you whine. “How many fingers do you want?” He asks, and you blurt out the first number you can think of.

“Eight,” you choke, and immediately flush in embarrassment afterwards.

Jeongguk laughs, dropping his head to your thigh in a fit of giggles. He looks absolutely ethereal there, soft brown hair sprawled across your skin like an angel. “Smaller numbers, baby, please,” he chuckles. You shrug, so he decides for you. “How about I just use my tongue instead?” You think you might love him.

He settles back down, lips pressing against your mound one final time, before he’s diving in. You mewl right away, body becoming one with the mattress beneath you at the first brush of his tongue.

“Oh, Jeongguk,” you gasp, hands burying themselves in his scalp again. He hums in response, and the sound has every nerve in your body lighting up. His tongue prods against your folds, slowly licking his way deeper and deeper into your cunt.

The worst comes when he sighs against your pussy, literally sighs, like he’s so blessed to be there. “You’re s-so good at this,” you cry out, trembling fingers twisting his hair so tightly that you manage to pull him off just an inch. He pinches your thigh in warning, before stuffing his tongue into you again, absolutely plunging into the depths of your hole.

Just when you think he couldn’t possibly outdo this, he jolts up suddenly, nose brushing against your clit. His eyes go wide for the slightest second, as if he really hadn’t planned that, before flickering at you.

To your utter embarrassment, he takes one long whiff, eyes rolling to the back of his head in pleasure.

He pulls away from your dripping hole. “You smell so fucking good,” he informs you, spreading a fiery blush across your cheeks.

“Thanks?” You say, and he grins, shuffling onto his knees all of a sudden. You mope the loss of his tongue on your pussy, but forget about it the second he reaches for his desk and returns with a condom.

He tears the foil packet open with gentle hands, eyes weirdly zeroed in on that only. You nudge his hip, and when he meets your gaze, he instantly averts it. Like he’s suddenly shy.

Oh he was gonna be the death of you.

You tug his boxers down and get to revel in more of those bashful glances, but you soon forget about that when he grips his rock hard member in one hand, jacking it to its full potential. “Ready?” He says, one hand gripping your hip, the other his cock. You nod, and then shift up onto your elbows to watch him sink into you.

You can barely keep your eyes open, the second the tip of his cock brushes against you your eyes roll back into your head. You moan, letting yourself flop back against the mattress, chest heaving with each inch he sinks in. “Fuck, you’re big,” you cry, biting down on your fist.

Jeongguk chuckles. “Yeah?” He grunts, and then stills as he waits for you to catch your breath. He gives you exactly four seconds before he’s thrusting the remainder of the way in.

Your back arches off the bed, a high-pitched moan ripping itself out of your throat. “Jeon!”

“Relax, relax,” he croons, releasing your hip to lean over you, peppering your face in kisses. You’re heaving for air, so overwhelmed with emotions. “You’re doing so good for me, doll,” he comforts, kissing every inch of you until you regain your wits. “So wet and warm for me, you have no idea how bad I wanna just ram my cock into your tight, little pussy.”

You huff, heart still skipping by the time you grow familiar with the sheer size of his dick inside of you. When you’ve finally come back down to earth, eyes fluttering at Jeongguk, he gives you one affirmative nod before he begins really fucking you.

He starts carefully, like he’s afraid he’ll break you with one push. You’re thankful that he’s at least somewhat aware of his own bear strength, but you’d prefer if he picked up the pace. Before you can file a complaint, he’s hiking your thigh up onto the crease of his elbow, and ramming himself into you.

“Could already hear some smart ass comment coming,” he groans, snapping his hips into you with a newfound intensity. You moan, trying desperately to reciprocate some movements back.

“Wasn’t gonna say anything,” you gasp, fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders, scratching lone lines down his back. Jeongguk snorts, pushing in, and then grinding your pelvises together deliciously.

He rolls his eyes, then chooses that exact moment to capture your lips in his. You groan softly, body boneless beneath him at the gentle way he kisses you, like his entire life depends on this single kiss.

When he finally releases your lips, he’s huffing against your mouth, hips having not stopped a single time. You know he’s tired and so riled up; you’d felt the brush of his half-hard member from the moment you first laid down to watch the movie.

But Jeongguk was a gentleman, through and through. You’d felt the brush of his cock, and heard the thundering of his heart, but he hadn’t pushed you further a single time. He basked in your presence, waiting until you crept your hand beneath his shirt to finally pounce.

“I’m close,” you tell him, reaching down to toy with your clit. Jeongguk had treated it like the finest treasure earlier, but now your gentle caresses feel mediocre compared to the way he’d touched it. Jeongguk nods, the tips of his wavy hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck. You abandon your quest to finish yourself off and focus on brushing his hair away from his face. “You’re so good to me,” you moan, lightly picking the corner of his mouth. “Don’t deserve you.”

He rams his cock into you, the arm not holding up your thigh weakening, until he’s leaning on his forearm over you. “Don’t say that,” he chokes out, and you wonder if his orgasm is as close as yours.

A particular brush of his cock against your cervix has you seeing stars, thighs clenching around him. “Just a little bit—more,” you beg, body writhing beneath him, pushing yourself up to meet his thrusts.

“So perfect,” he praises, kissing along your jaw. “Come for me, baby.”

You nod, but not before cupping his face in your hands, and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He makes a soft little sound of surprise, smile pressed against your mouth, and the heat in your abdomen finally explodes. You disassociate for all of one second, consumed in a wave of bliss never before heard of, his pistoning thrusts working you through it.

You nearly cry from how good it feels, throwing an arm around his neck to pull him closer. You’re babbling like an idiot, saying shit you won’t remember later. What you do recall is the chuckles Jeongguk had muffled against your neck, hips never faltering as he chased his own high.

He finds it a few beats later, the muscles of his back suddenly going rigid. He moans your name, somehow making it sound like it’s the best song in the world, before his hips begin stuttering in their mission. He eventually goes slack, slumped over you without completely crushing you beneath the weight of his muscles.

By the time you’ve fully recovered, he’s sliding out of you. Right as you go to speak, he stuffs two fingers into your sensitive cunt. “Jeon!” You wail, reaching down to push him away before you come again.

He snickers. “What? It’d be a waste to let it out,” he says, letting go when he’s decided he’s done his job, popping the digits into his mouth. You groan, trying to quell the excitement that builds in your chest from watching him suck your cum off his fingers.

“You’re the worst,” you sigh, snatching his t-shirt off the edge of the bed to tug over your bare form. Jeongguk tugs his underwear back on, retrieving yours from where he’d flung them across the room. When you’re settled into the blankets again, you’re not expecting the laptop to return as well. You raise a questioning eyebrow.

Jeongguk shrugs, nestling into your chest. “Hit play, this is when Professor Poopy Pants begins attacking the city.”

#kpopwonderlandtag #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jjk♡#jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #mine

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foulserpent · 4 years ago

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your Skyrim romance mod showcase and analysis keeping me company as I do my university project and got me wondering. if you were to rewrite/redesign the suitors what would be your take? and would Alec Theprinceofsong be a slam poet

ok this is really hard bc romance mod type things are NOT my thing but here goes:

actually its going under the cut bc this got SUPER long

casavir is a vigilant of stendarr heavily devoted to his duty and a little goofy about it, like a little too self-serious. you help him out with some missions and hes a little interested in you but very very awkward at flirting. it turns out he hasnt had a relationship in a long time and is repenting for a past where he was callous and self-centered and hurt some people, and feels undeserving of love. he has some religious sexual guilt but no actual vows of chastity or w/e, its more just “feels the need to atone and not be self-pleasing”. hes a little “knightly” and arrogant, but not patronizing to you. hes a real do-gooder type and will stand up against injustice wherever he sees it, getting him into trouble sometimes.

neeshka is a romance option in this. shes a thief who has fallen on hard times, and will approach you and bishop to trick and rob you. shes successful and you track her down, but you have the option to talk to her and she will explain herself to you, and wind up offering to help you out. shes a little flirty, but nothing over the top. it becomes evident that shes had to rely on only herself for most of her life and has a difficult time being vulnerable, but will eventually open up to you. she asks you to join her in visiting the site of her childhood home so she can have someone with her to talk about the memories there, which are painful and bittersweet and something she’s been running away from. you have an option to gently hold her hand in this moment.

alec prince of song is kind of an eccentric bard who is struggling to find success in skyrim due to his musical stylings being something that can be described only as slam poetry and interpretive dance. hes a hopeless romantic artist type who might be a little annoying. but in an absolutely bizarre turn of events, it seems that he has some loose grasp of the voice or possibly a form of TONAL ARCHITECTURE and can perform some tonal magic by his “singing”. basically hes incredibly pretentious but also really powerful without really being aware of it

darren is gay so hes only actually a romance option if youre playing as a man, but is extremely forward and no-filter towards everyone. kind of self-centered, but in a pretty friendly way? like he thinks hes amazing but is also super impressed with whatever you do. hes a mage in training and offers to help you on your quest, and it turns out hes not super great at most aspects of mage-ness (though he certainly thinks otherwise) and kind of just wanted someone to hang out with because hes a little lonely.

jack has like almost nothing to him in the game so im having a hard time with this one. i think he wouldnt be a real romance option but might be a fun one-off quest where you find him stranded IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WILDERNESS NOWHERE NEAR ANY WATER, hungover and having no idea where his ship is. you have to retrace his steps to help him get back and its sort of like the quest “a night to remember”. maybe just for fun it turns out hes not even human (which he forgot about due to being drunk) and is a dremora shiphand for the one and only velekh sain, but hes pretty friendly about it and you get to meet a whole ship full of dremora pirates.

cael also really does not have much of anything in the mod (not even a quest) and is also the least horrible character so idk what id do with him?like there isnt much to say here about the character himself bc theres the least amount of horrible shit.

bishop is rewritten from the ground up. hes an asshole and pretty mean, just not in the specifically misogynist abuser way. you only travel with him by hiring him as a mercenary. he starts to chill out and open up to you a little as you go, and eventually reveals the thing about how something claiming to be mara appeared to his mother, who sold his soul to it.

eventually he apologizes for being so nasty to you. hes still a bit of a jackass because thats who he is, but he makes the effort to be better because hes starting to care about you and enjoy your time together, and its making him want to be a better person. he sees himself in neeskha a little bit, being also someone whos been self reliant and chewed up and spat out by the world and turned hard and cold as a result, and meeting her is a point where he starts to come to Understandings about himself.

at no point are you made to feel obligated to be nice to him or to heal him, and when you say things that are confrontational to him he wont always “win” that conversation. he will be a little flirty at times, but just slightly, and your character will be the one to initiate relationship progress should you choose to do so.

the romance mod has a “main quest” of finding out what happened with his soul and etc (maybe to make it have relevancy, theres a background of events of this type happening a lot lately and people hallucinating the aedra and being asked to pledge to them), which you meet the other characters as a part of if you dont meet them on your own. bishop is not the only romance option you can end up with, and will end up as a friend regardless of that choice

#saint-nevermore #oh i forgot the redesign thing. with that just have them not all be white blonde people with smooth poreless faces and boyband hair #also also this is exclusively based on the mod and not the neverwinter nights 2 characters this mod plageurized from

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hrina · 3 years ago

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Soo for you it was only like a gut feeling about him that he is a good person and wouldnt assume right? Because i feel like some men/pigs would only invite you over to have sex

Also thanks for the comment and advice i appreciate these women to women talks

yeah like okay i was ALSO kinda drunk when he asked so i can admit if i was sober i would have been a bit more apprehensive but we were having a really good time and there were no red flags and ive been wanting to get out of my comfort zone for a while (hence why i downloaded hinge in the first place) so my mentality was sort of like "if not him, then who?" yk what i mean?

but yes yes yes 100% trust ur gut! i doubt he was expecting me to sleep with him because he knew i was going to bus home. i dont even think he expected me to kiss him tbh sksdjnfs but again, i was really enjoying the date so i was like fuck it. he was very flirty and kept giving me a lot of compliments so i knew he found me attractive, but at the same time he didnt push at ALL so i felt comfortable initiating something knowing that it was gonna be because EYE wanted to

also yes i love our lil chats too lol i feel like nobody rly talks to me much anymore so i always enjoy interacting w yall <3333

#anon

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darth-mendax · 4 years ago

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Mendax and the Wolffe: One-shot Fic

A/N: Yes, I made this a while ago, yes it’s dirty, and yes I did it for my enjoyment. I am sorry for making this.

WARNING: It’s a dirty fic, man. You know what you gotta watch for. Stay safe bois. Also, the clones are being nasty lil boys, especially Wolffe being feral

Word Count: 5k-ish

Pairing: Darth Mendax x Commander Wolffe, OC x Wolffe

Ahsoka, Maul and his new, previously Jedi love Eli, weren’t resting on the random forest planet when evening was approaching. Eli had decided to try and save a few new clones from the wrath of this new Empire born from Sidious. Cody was their first target, and were going to supposedly deliver him to Kenobi. I felt it wasn’t wise to bring Maul on that adventure, but Eli argued against my opinion. Wherever Eli went, Maul followed. Now, I was stuck sitting near a growing campfire and surrounded by a couple clones and their downed ships acting more as shelter. I’d only learned their names when we first got here a few days ago.

The clones were relatively easy to tell apart, thank the Maker. The only blonde there was Rex, formerly Captain of the 501st. He had a blonde buzzcut, a clean shave but stubble was close to growing in, and his legs looked like they could kick her head clean off.

Next was a brash clone of the 501st named Fives, easy to pick out from the tattoo of the number five on his temple. He had short hair like Rex, only he had black hair, as well and a goatee like beard. He’d been injured badly, but he was healing relatively fast.

Jesse was next, almost like a child of the 501st group (based on personality). He was playfully flirty to me at times, but overall, was like sunshine after rain. He had a large tattoo of the previous Galactic Republic on his bald head, and a 5 o'clock shadow. Like Fives, he was injured badly but was healing.

Gregor, one of the few who survived relatively unscathed and a republic commando, was a bit shorter than his brothers. He had longer black hair that was neatly styled, and stubble growing in like Jesse. Rumor had it that his hair was much longer once. He was built like a boulder though, with large shoulders and seeming a bit thicker in build than his other brothers. His gentle nature contrasted his look greatly.

Kix was probably the most average looking of all the clones, and their medic. Once in cryo after some mystery mission, got rescued by pirates a good while ago, now helping the injured that survived the Order. He had a short sort of haircut with black hair, and friendly brown eyes like the rest of his brothers. Only, his eyes seemed to be able to comfort anyone and managed to speak in the calmest voices possible.

Echo had a messy sort of story, and his appearance made that possible. His skin was slightly lighter than the deep tan of his brothers, and he had darkened eye sockets, like he was constantly sick (though he was perfectly healthy). Multiple scars could be seen on his head in a particular pattern, and black hair was coming in like the crew cuts of Rex and Fives. He had a handprint on his armor, which made him stand out. He was also practically stuck by Fives’ side at all times, including around the campfire.

The last one was Wolffe, the one clone I knew before the mess Order 66 had caused. He was very different from his brothers. He had a pink scar going over right eye, and in the eye socket was a white cybernetic eye (it made him almost seem like he was blind on that side). He had short black hair like many of his brothers there, but it looked most similar to Kix. He was probably the tallest, even if it was by little over an inch. He had a stubble shadow, like Jesse and Gregor. Like the wolves on Lothal, he was built to fight and it showed. His biceps were certainly the second largest, outranked by Gregor, and thighs able to crush skulls (if he wanted). Without his top half of armor on and relaxing in his blacks, there was the clear outline of abs on his waist. I wasn’t sure I picked that detail up. He nearly killed me when I first arrived with Maul, Eli, and Ahsoka. My eyes remained focused on the fire in front of me, memories flooding my brain.

It was done, the Order initiated and finished in only what seemed like an hour. My clothes were dirtied by dust and almost ratty. Maul was in his usual sith robe attire, minus the usual cloak that hid away his features. We were sitting at a small table in what was like a casual living room. Eli and Ahsoka were whispering to each other nearby, wiping away a few stray tears. This Order had killed many of their friends, and clones alike. Families were shattered and Sidious was to blame, me and Maul knew that for sure. Ahsoka nodded to Eli, and then walked up to the bridge of the ship. Eli fixed her neutral colored Jedi robes and turned to Maul.

“Lucky for us, our ship is arriving at the safety rendezvous soon. I’d be wary of a few clones, they may think you’re against them so. . . don’t act too aggressive.” Maul leaned on the heel of his hand and gave an expression similar to someone raising an eyebrow. “Eli my dear, I’m constantly fueled by anger, driven by spite and revenge for years. Being aggressive is my personality.” I didn’t care to speak or include themselves in conversation. I simply hid in the hood of my Sith robe and remained silent. Eli turned to me, “Hey Mendax, there’s one guy who you’ll know once we arrive. Though I’m not sure he’d be the most happy to see you. Not the biggest fan of Sith still.”

“Don’t humor me. I’m not looking to make friends.”

Eli scoffed, then rolled their eyes. “Alright, fine, sit and brood. But you better not say anything that will make you end up with blaster holes.” I chuckled, then looked Eli in the eye, “If that were to happen, I’d consider it a mercy.” The Jedi turned away and went to join Ahsoka Tano on the bridge. Maul sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I know you’re still hurting, I can sense it. . .”

“I just don’t understand. . . It feels cruel to live. To live in such darkness as overpowering as this. All the death he brought, to us, to the Jedi-”

“I know that’s not the real reason you’re upset, Mendax. . . Savage would want you to live on. He loved you, so dearly.” I was silent, then leaned on Maul’s shoulder. Maul slowly placed a gloved hand on my head. He wasn’t one to regularly give comforting touch, but this. . . this was nice.

“Things will change now, and we’ll move past Sidious’ plans.”

When we were introduced, almost all the clones had aimed their guns at us. Wolffe seemed a bit hesitant to aim at me though, instead aiming at Maul. A few good sassy remarks were thrown, but we all agreed no more killing was needed. Wolffe still kept a close eye on me as days went on, however.

Jesse’s laughter tore me from my thoughts and into his conversation. All of the clones seemed happy, or amused. I glared at them and asked, “What’s so funny, boys?”

“Oh, nothing Mendax. We’re comparing body count and the comments made about us.” Body count? Was this a sick count of all the enemies killed? Fives made an impression of what sounded like a moan, then said, “Oh Fives, you know just how to please me!”

“No way! There’s no way you can please a woman with as rough as a hand like yours!” Nope, definitely not an enemy body count.

My face felt a little hot once I’d realized. I guess I should’ve known that soldiers like clones had needs. They weren’t Jedi so sexual acts were more. . . allowed? Wolffe was the only one who wasn’t talking about who fucked the best or how many men or women they spent a night of pleasure with. Feeling a little bothered plus warmed by the fire, I removed the cloak from around my body.

Fives was the first to try and get Wolffe to join in. “Hey, Wolffe! What’s your body count, hmm? I bet it’s a high one, what with the ‘rugged charm’ I’ve heard some women say about you.”

Wolffe grunted, taking a drink from a small cup he held in one of his hands. Fives went on, “Grunting is not usually an acceptable answer to a question, Wolffe.”

“It is now,” Wolffe replied, eyes landing on me as I sat across from him by the firepit. His gaze seemed to soften, and then he went back to staring at the contents in his cup. Fives decided not to push further, but rather turn to me. “And what about you, Mendax? Did the great Sith lord ever get any love?~”

“As much as I admire the Sith and their passions, we never really see many who use passion in a sense that they fight for someone. Most use passion more as ambition, seeking power and their way.”

“I asked if you had a boyfriend once, not your philosophies,” Fives said, rolling his eyes. I scoffed, and glared at him, “No, does that satisfy your curiosity? I had no one. All I had was Maul to oversee my progress and Savage to. . . to make me feel less lonely.”

“Define less lonely. . .”

Jesse shoved Fives, “Shut up. She’s obviously never had a boyfriend.” Wolffe turned his gaze to me again; I couldn’t tell what emotion was behind his eyes. A few of the brothers muttered to each other, then turned to Wolffe. He caught on to the staring and sneered, “What?”

“So are you going to tell her, or. . .?” Wolffe gave a low growl at Kix. He practically barked at him, “Know your place, soldier. And stop your insane claims.” Kix held his arms up in surrender, and smiled, “Just saying, Commander.” Rex rolled his eyes, then lightly shook his head. Clearly, the captain was getting just as annoyed as Wolffe was at his men. I couldn’t really blame him. Darkness was swallowing the forest around us; Rex added more logs to keep the fire burning.

“So, what’s the sleeping situation, boys? Since the generals and Maul are gone?” Gregor had asked, his meek voice coming through with the brief silence. Echo wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “I already figured it out for you.” He pointed at one of the ships, the largest one of them all. “That one will hold me, Fives, and Rex,” he said. Echo then pointed to the smaller ship next to it, saying, “That one there will be for you, Jesse, and Kix.” The smallest ship there was a simple cruiser, but good enough for a few people to live on, and it was the one Echo pointed to next. “That ship there is where Wolffe and Mendax will be,” he concluded. Rex started to snicker to himself, and tried to cover it with one of his gloved hands. “Something funny, Captain?” Wolffe asked. Rex replied, “No no, it’s nothing. Just laughing at the arrangements.”

“And why is that?”

“You’ll have a ship alone with Mendax. And I don’t want to ruin the moment for the two virgins.”

Wolffe growled loudly at Rex’s comment, clenching the cup tightly in his hand. His voice lowered dangerously low, “How about you shut it, Captain? I’m sure you men would hate to see their leader suddenly get a black eye and busted lip.” Rex squinted at Wolffe, “You think your strength could save you there? You believe that you can take on the Captain of the 501st in a fist fight?”

“Oh, I know it would. My squadron regularly fights in the dirt, so what makes you think this will end with you winning against me.” The two brothers got up and stood in front of each other, Wolffe glaring slightly down at Rex and teeth bared. Rex seemed relatively calm, but a sneer was forming on his features. “How about you prove it, Commander?” Rex challenged. Wolffe stiffened and clenched his fists tight. The two of them raised their fits, ready to fight then and there. Hearing enough banter, I got up and decided to stop the impending fight.

“SILENCE! If you keep bickering, I’ll give you all a good reason to shut up!” The flames of the fire flared, and burned bright for a few moments. Silence followed my shout, besides the cracking of the firewood.

All the clones looked at me in shock, Jesse’s, Kix’s and Fives’ faces all slowly turned to smiles as they looked at Wolffe. He was staring at me, eyes wide and blinking as if he was processing what had happened. I could only imagine that my eyes changed, a little side effect of being Sith. If I was angry enough, they looked just like Maul’s. Rex sat down next to his men, “Sorry Sir.” I huffed, calming down and rubbing the back of my neck. Wolffe made a rumbly noise in the back of his throat, before stomping off. Gregor called out to him, “Where are you going, Wolffe?!”

“To relax! And hit the refresher!” The rest of the clones made attempts to bring Wolffe back, but it was in vain. He’d already entered the ship, and disappeared from view. I sat back down by the fire, hearing the clones burst into some sort of shanty, and had their arms around each other’s shoulders. It was touching, to see them still act like family even after everything. It was almost like Order 66 didn’t happen. But it did.

The moons of the planet were well in the sky, and it’d been nearly an hour since Wolffe went into the ship he and I would supposedly share. The fire was dying, as was the nightly commotion. There was less energy, less blood flowing through the clones’ veins. Growing restless of being quiet while the clones talked amongst themselves, I got up and put my cloak on. I mumbled, “Heading in for the night. . .” before trudging over to the shared ship. I stretched my limbs and back, beginning my walk towards the beds. There were at least five rooms, each one with a decently sized space and bed. Making my way down the hall, I passed by the way leading to the refresher. I paused, hearing that it was still on. “Wolffe must like long hot showers,” I thought to myself. I was about to walk on, when I heard quiet grunting, then what sounded like mumbling.

“Mendax-” I heard, barely heard over the water running in the refresher. A few curses followed, and I felt a bit of panic. Did he hurt himself? Did he know I was here? I slowly walked through the small locker room, seeing Wolffe’s armor and blacks resting on a bench. Moving past them, I peeked into the refresher room.

It was a line of refreshers in glass stalls on the opposite wall from the entrance. The floor was tile, leading into the locker room. Only one of the refreshers had their door closed, somewhat clouded up with steam. The amount of steam in the room made the air humid, and I was sure that my hair was starting to puff up with it. There was a towel on a hook nearby said refresher. Moving closer, but out of view, my face heated up as I looked at what was in front of me.

Wolffe was still in the refresher, but certainly not injured. His eyes were screwed shut, brow furrowed and biting his bottom lip. He was naked of course, water washing over him and moving down his body. Leaning against one of the tile walls of the refresher, one of his arms rested against the wall he leaned against, and his other was in front of him. He had hair on his chest, leading down to a nice trimmed happy trail leading down to his cock, where his hand was a bit. . . busy. He groaned again, his hand wrapped around his cock and moving faster. Wolffe’s head leaned back against the tile, his mouth slightly open now as a soft moan past his lips. He was close, very close.

“Fuck- Mendax~, I want you so bad~. . . Make me feel so good.” Wolffe’s voice was lower by an octave or two, rumbling and lustful.

I’d be lying if that didn’t cause some sort of feeling between my legs. He was so vulnerable, and definitely not bad to look at. We had had our differences before and were becoming something of friends, but this? It was a little unexpected.

Scrambling to get away, I made the mistake of kicking his helmet. It made a clatter that echoed through the whole of the locker room. Ashamed that I’d be caught. I hid behind the small wall of lockers in the middle of the changing room. The noise of the refresher being on stopped, and there was silence. Very tense silence. I heard the sound of bare feet walking on the tile, moving to where Wolffe’s armor was. They stopped, and the silence returned. He was behind the lockers, where I was hiding. Suddenly the footsteps sounded like they moved away and out to the hallway. I quietly breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. Slowly, I moved around closer to the refresher room and towards the edge of the locker wall. I peeked around, and looked for Wolffe. He wasn’t there, but his armor was still on the bench. That was odd. . . I turned back and collided with something solid and damp.

I pulled away and found myself staring into a pair of eyes, one an amber like brown, and the other a pale cybernetic white. I froze, and felt immensely flustered. Wolffe had a towel wrapped low around his hips, the happy trail disappearing under the soft white cloth. A few droplets were still moving down Wolffe’s body, and he felt very warm, even just by being so close to him. His cheeks were reddened, and a blank expression on his face. I gulped, swallowing down my nervousness and composing myself.

“What are you doing in here?” Wolffe asked, his voice low and rumbly like he was in the refresher. I cleared my throat and crossed my arms, “Was wondering why you were taking so long in the refresher.” Wolffe didn’t seem to buy my reasoning. He leaned down, trapping me with his hands on either side of my head.

“Really? And you didn’t hear anything?” I shook my head, not bearing to look Wolffe in the eyes. “Liar,” he growled out. He knew, of course he knew. One of his hands grabbed my jaw and forced me to face him.

“Look at me in the eye.” My eyes moved back to lock on Wolffe’s. His human eye was blown with lust, brown being swallowed by inky, hungry black. I found myself looking at his lips, and the feeling between my legs returned. Wolffe tilted my chin up, “I’ll be honest with you. When you said you’d give us a reason to shut up, my mind went to. .. less than innocent ideas. And I couldn’t sit with them all when you were right there and looking so . . . delicious.” I let out an exhale through my nose, and dared to ask, “Like what? Hmm?”

Wolffe let out a guttural growl, and the hand holding my chin moved down to my neck. He gave a light squeeze as his lips moved to whisper in my ear. “I want you to shut me up and kiss me until I forget my fucking name. . . I want to swallow all of your moans into my mouth, know the taste of your lips. I want to feel your tongue, and maybe stop your snark for once.” My thighs were twitching with his words; he didn’t even stutter. My hands found their way on his back, and I raked my nails down the muscle. “Would you like that? Would you like to have me?” he asked. I quietly replied, “I’ve never wanted anything more than that right now. . . but I don’t know what to do. . .”

“Then I’ll show you. . .” Wolffe’s hands found their way to my thighs and he picked me up with ease. He carried me down into the hallway and opened one of the doors leading to a bedroom. I was carried right to the bed, and the door closed behind him. It was doubtful that anyone would come barging in, so there was not much reason to lock it. He was already trying to take off my robes as he carried me, rushed kisses being pressed to my jawline. Wolffe was desperate, and the desire coursing through him was infectious.

His lips crashed against mine once my back hit the bed, and my legs were wrapped around his hips. They were softer than I anticipated, and much more intoxicating than I believed kisses should be. I felt drunk, limp as Wolffe pushed his tongue into my mouth and hands explored under my now messy robes. He made quick work of the top half of my clothing, almost ripped them in the process. Wolffe’s lips moved down to my neck; my head moved to the side so he had better access. A rumbling noise went through his chest like a building growl and he bit down into the flesh of my neck. He bit hard enough that I whined at the pinching pain. My feeble attempts of squirming were stopped by the weight of Wolffe moving on top of me: one of his thighs between mine, and hands pinning my wrists down. The gesture of biting and leaving dark bruises on my neck was repeated until my neck and collarbones were littered with the marks like a night sky, varying in size and color. Taking his time and kissing back up to my mouth, Wolffe gave me a tender, sweet kiss.

When he pulled away, I felt cold and my lips felt like they were buzzing. “I’ve wanted to do this for a while, in honesty. . .” Wolffe muttered, eyes looking over my face and his handiwork. His hands cradled my face lightly, like a feather caressing my skin. The innocence and purity of the gesture was lost when his thumb brushed over my lips and lightly tugged my bottom lip down. I opened my mouth and he pushed his thumb in, groaning as it was coated in my saliva. “Such a pretty little mouth,” he mumbled.

Wolffe pulled his hand away, then moved to pull off my pants. He started breathing heavily once he had a glance at the mess between my legs. “Fuck, you’re soaking,” was what he said. Without another word, he pulled me to the edge of the bed and knelt between my legs. Moving them so they rested on his shoulders, Wolffe began to mark up my thighs just like my neck. The feeling between my legs was starting to become unbearable, and I was aching to be touched. “You know, you could stop teasing and get to the point,” I grumbled. Wolffe responded by a smack on my thigh, looking up at me. The scene in front of me was sinful, and I thought it was all a dream since it seemed too good to be true.

“You want me to get to the point?” I nodded.

“Then I won’t stop til you’re begging,” he replied before moving his head down.

The feeling was heavenly, Wolffe’s tongue working through my folds and up to my clit. My hands found their way into his thick hair, tugging on his short black locks. He groaned at the action, then focused on working my clit. My body was twitching, and my back began to arch off of the bed. “Fuck- Oh Maker- Wolffe~!” were just a few of the words that spilled from my mouth out of pleasure. I tried to push him even closer, digging my heels into his muscular back and my thighs squeezing his head. It was almost embarrassingly fast how close I got in a matter of seconds, and my orgasm came with little warning. The pleasure was white hot, I felt like I was floating and my moans filled the room. Wolffe worked through it, and even a moment after I’d come down from the blissful high. My legs were twitching, and in the pale dim lights that were on in the room, I saw Wolffe look up at me with a smug look and my wetness on his chin. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, and hummed, “My assumption was correct, you do taste delicious.” I sighed and flopped back against the bed to catch my breath.

“Maker above, that was nice. . .” Wolffe chuckled at my comment.

“It’ll get better.”

“Hm?” I looked down to see Wolffe taking off his towel and his cock ready for attention. He was big, as far as I could tell. Moving himself closer, Wolffe held onto my legs and I felt him nudge my core. “I’ll go slow, ok?” His voice was quiet and gentle again. I pulled him down into a quick kiss, and gave a soft smile. “I know you won’t hurt me,” I said. Wolffe gave a short nod and held onto my waist. He pushed himself in slowly, and his jaw clenched tightly as he did. A struggling groan came from his mouth, and was joined by a weak moan of mine. Once fully in, he was panting and practically laying on top of me. Wolffe was cursing under his breath, resting his forehead against mine. “This feels- mm fuck- way better than I imagined. . . Fuck me, you’re killing me over here,” he managed to rasp out. As if I wasn’t aroused enough, his praise pushed me even further.

I held his face in my hands, watching as he looked at me with a half-lidded, dazed gaze. “You can move now,” I said. He didn’t move at first, and I was about to tell him again until he interrupted me.

With a voice lowering a good few octaves, he asked, “You want me to move, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes.” My impatience was getting to me.

Wolffe gave a grin, “Then beg.”

I could only assume I made a somewhat amusing shocked expression, because Wolffe chuckled. “You heard me, beg for me to move,” he said. I didn’t want to, at first. After all, I was a Sith and he was just a clone. I could’ve overpowered him and take control easily, yet I didn’t. My desire was getting the best of me, and I could barely move from underneath him. So I begged for Wolffe.

“Please- Please move, I need you.”

“Please who? What do you call me, sweetheart?” This was near torture at this point, but I went along.

“Please Sir. . . Please move~.” He smiled again, and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek.

“There’s my good girl~.”

Wolffe moved slowly, but Maker did it feel great. The slow drag of him against my walls was enough to make me start digging my nails into his shoulders. He wasn’t patient though; soon he was sitting up and setting a brutal pace. I was moaning, loud enough to probably end up being heard from the hallway. Wolffe’s brow was furrowed, but the smug grin on his face told me that he was enjoying having power over me. “Moaning like a bitch for me, and I’m the only one who can do that, right?~ Only I can make you moan and desperately beg~.” I tried to growl at him, to try and show that I didn’t like the degradation. My body betrayed me, and I could only moan and try to move in response instead. He was growling and panting, keeping his pace and his gaze staying on me. “Look at you, covered in my marks and bites. Kriffing beautiful and all mine to look at~. All fucking mine~.” Given that biting seemed to be the way he showed his affection, it was no surprise that it came with possessiveness as well. When one of his hands came down to rub my clit, I was already close again.

“Maker- Wolffe, Sir- I’m so fucking close-”

“You close? You wanna make a mess all over my cock? You wanna beg for me to make you finish?”

All of the pride and dignity I had was long gone by then, and of course I begged. Of course I said, “Yes, please! Please, Sir!” I was glad he was so merciful. He replied, “Now, you can finish.” And I did, shaking and grabbing at the sheets. I heard myself almost yelling, and I’m pretty sure I screamed out Wolffe’s name too. Wolffe’s pace stuttered, and began to get sloppy. Not a few moments later, he finished as well, spilling himself inside of me and throwing his head back in bliss. He made what sounded like a groan, or maybe he was biting back a moan. Either way, we were both very satisfied by the end.

In a dazed and half awake state, we managed to fix ourselves under the sheets and get comfortable. I found myself clinging to Wolffe’s side, resting my head on his chest as his arm was wrapped around me. His thumb traced small circles into my back. A realization came to me that night; I’d fallen for him. Badly. I didn’t have the heart to tell him then, but I knew I would when the time was right. With fatigue pulling at my eyelids, I curled up next to Wolffe and slept soundly for the first time in a good while.

Bonus:

The clones were heading to their ships for the night, but they made a decision to just crowd the ship farthest away from Mendax and Wolffe. In a crowded and simple room with bunks, the clones whispered to each other. “I told you it would happen, now pay up!” Fives whisper-yelled to Echo. Echo begrudgingly handed him a few credits, and huffed. Jesse was also passing credits in the dimness. Rex sat up slightly and rubbed his eyes, “Men, what are you doing?” Fives gave a half-hearted laugh, “I’m surprised you slept through it. Wolffe and Mendax just did the deed. I made a bet that they would do it tonight, so now the boys owe me. Well, except you and Gregor.” Fives looked over to Gregor, who was busy hiding his head under his pillow. “I think he’s scarred for life,” Jesse added. Kix interrupted, “Yeah yeah, you won. Now can we sleep?” “They should be done now,” Fives replied. Rex rolled his eyes and went back to sleep.

“Go to bed, boys.”

“. . . Yes Sir.”

There was a brief silence, and a moment of peace.

“. . . Should we tell them we heard?”

“No way, Jesse. They’d kill us.”

“. . . What if we told Maul and Eli when they get back, Fives?”

“They’d kill them, well, Maul would.”

Another silence.

“. . . Who do you think started it?”

“GO TO BED, BOYS!”

“Sorry, Rex. . .”

#commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #commander wolffe x oc #oc x wolffe #the clone wars #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars the clone wars #darth mendax #pls don't judge me #i'm just a writer #the cloons #clone bois #clone troopers #commander wolffe smut

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og-danny-dorito · 5 years ago

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Hancock SFW Headcanons To Satiate My Undying Thirst for This Raisin

this is dedicated to all of my 12 year old monster/humanoid obsessions, and to the ones which may follow such as this mans, John Hancock, the mayor of Goodneighbor. because I'll be damned if I see a ghoul and don't become immediately attracted to them. also these weren't requested, but @thatwolfnamednyla seemed interested so i'll tag them (i can remove the tag too if you want me to, just let me know).

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S F W :

- ok so, I’m gonna start off with physical headcanons because it’s easier for me to base everything off of that

- since most of the heights in the game are the same and they don’t really give any actual canon heights for them, I’d say that he’s about 5”5 because I love the imagine of a short man with a knife. like-

- yeah he’s definitely powerful and strong willed and mental the opposite of a short baby man, but like can you just imagine some dude walking up to you and having to look up at you because he’s small? Especially a high af ghoul man small boy? an artistic virtue

- that, and he’s generally the most crackhead out of all the companions

- like he’s the guy to go to if you’re itching to bust out some chems and go shoot at random shit in the middle of the night cause he’s just that kinda dude

- he lives for the thrill of things, and so obviously someone equally as crackhead as he is would fit him perfectly, but for the sake of actual relationship building I’d say that he’s better fit with a rational crackhead

- like yeah, going out and getting yourself fucked up is great, but like not to the point of getting yourself so fucked up beyond repair, yknow? someone who takes a second and a half to think his crazy ass ideas through and THEN do it with him is the best person for the job as his metaphorical babysitter

- and he really likes to be taken care of because he’s a sucker for that shit. I would say that he has a daddy/mommy kink but like these aren’t nsfw and so I’m not gonna bust out that nasty shit just yet

- that said, being his partner doesn’t have very specific guidelines. being pansexual AND polyamorous allows him to love freely as he was genetically destined to anyway

- seriously, he’s attracted to you if you say something nice to him and show a little bit of interest that’s just how it is. he doesnt really think of appearances unless he's only out for dick

- he doesn’t really have a specific type either??? but he finds timid and nervous people so fucking cute. like,,, if you keep apologizing because of small things he’ll ruffle your hair and start calling you ‘kid’ and ‘sweetie’ cause honestly it’s just so sweet to see you get all nervous and shy

- it literally makes him want to fistfight someone in an abandoned parking lot for you and he can't help his protectionist ways

- like he likes to be taken care of yeah, but he ends up setting y’all in the ‘give some get some’ scenario where it’s more of a partnership

- jokingly calls you ‘smoothskin’ even if your skin isn’t smooth like you’re scarred or something. it cracks him up because he does it in a smoker voice too but he already sounds like a smoker so he ends up coughing a little bit after in between laughs

- biggest goofball on the planet

- will literally play pranks on you because he finds it funny, like using makeshift pre-war whoopee cushion and shit like that. will also 100% love it if you prank him back. he doesn’t take much seriously and so any form of mild joking makes him genuinely happy

- if you’re inclined to more permanent relationships however, this could become an issue. not the whole whoopee cushion thing the seriousness thing

- just because he does sleep with other people and lowkey tell you all the time about how “That raider was packin, and I don’t mean to be a whore but honestly like if he wanted some he could get some.”, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. it’s just that it’s normal for him to be attracted to other people at the same time. it can be more than one person at once, which can sometimes be a problem if more traditional people not cool with it

- confronting him about it either to confirm it negatively or positively depends on your preference. he didn’t really think of this as permanent in the first place, more of a friends with benefits situation where you also benefit each other with extreme emotional support, and so you wanting to make it serious will trigger his fear of commitment

- therefore, if you’re not okay with it he may have a hard time adapting, but if he’s really grown on you then he can try to be better about it. he won’t make the one he loves uncomfortable without their permission, but he’ll try his best to explain it (the best that he can doesn't necessarily that he’ll do it well though)

- if you’re alright with it then he will most likely bring up the topic of either threesomes/poly-somes and/or adding someone else to your romantic stuff or something like that if either of areyou is interested. communication is key in this sort of thing, and so he’ll almost always go to you before like trying to initiate anything with someone after talking with them and you about the situation

- oh did I mention fear of commitment? Cause I’m about to get real angsty

- MAN does he have an issue with it. not only that, but the reason he doesn’t really view this thing as permanent is because he’s fairly certain he’ll outlive you. he's terrified of loosing you one day and then not knowing what the he'll to do with himself for the rest of his life. he’s scared of being tied down it totally goes against his whole thing of freedom, and since he’s already conflicted about anarchy and order he literally avoids thinking about settling down with anyone or anything

- he’s holding onto a past that brought him joy then, but could ruin him now. and the best way to deal with that is to try to get through it as best as you can and leave the past behind, but he still finds himself reminiscing about things that could’ve happened

- it keeps him up sometimes, thinking about it. he’ll lay flat on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours at a time just... thinking. and only when he’s lightly pressed about it will he say something, and even then it seems more like he’s struggling to find the words. It’s weird how he can talk to goodneighbor’s citizens like it’s nothing, but talking about himself gets him all choked up

- he would very much like it if you just like, kissed his face or hold his hand sometimes. to him it speaks more than a thousand words, and if he’s really having a hard time it means everything for you to be there for him

- that, and with the fact that you’re his best friend means that you’re his ride or die partner in crime

- just sitting around and doing chems with you and getting all philosophical or doing dumb shit is pretty much all he needs to be satisfied with you, and he really likes hearing you talk about pre-war society

- whether your views are negative or positive, he likes hearing about the way things used to work. he likes your stories about how you grew up and how you came to be who you are today, and a lot of the time he finds himself asking you about something he doesn’t know because you’re technically the ultimate source of knowledge on that stiff by this point

- you’d have to assure him that you didn’t know everything and no, you had no idea what year that random object he found was made, but he likes it anyway. you pique his interest, and just sharing a few mindset traits with you makes him feel much more secure and like you’ve got something that matters to the both of you

- that, and he thinks you’re the coolest motherfucker on the planet

- he’d probably be more attracted to free spirits, those who hold a strong moral code and defend it like it’s their lifeline. obviously he has a wide range of romantic and causal interest guidelines, but that’s the key point there. Someone who stands for what they believe in and protects those around them

- and NOW for my favorite part, miscellaneous headcanons ;

he’s probably the most openly sexual out of all the companions besides Gage, but tbh gage isn't down to walk naked through commonwealth and he is so obviously he’s the most freaky

he’s more himbo oriented, although with this chart done originally by @cockneydio

I can tell you that he’s this 👌 close to being a feral himbo and is probably turned on by danger so you can already tell what kinda bitch he is

he likes to give you his jacket when you’re cold or he just feels like it and it usually smells like cigarettes and gunpowder

thinks that pastel colors and soft clothes are kind of cute on people for some reason

is a sucker for pda, might die if you kiss on his neck or tell him he looks nice that day while you’re in public. Also super into just randomly slapping your ass because he finds it hilarious (slapping his ass in turn earns you a flirty comment and a mildly turned on raisin man)

loves receiving gifts from you and equally as much giving them, which is commonly just cool little things he’s found and thought you would like

makes cheesy pick up lines all the time and you can’t change my mind

would die for pet names, given or received. like yes call him “honey” and “sugar” he will MELT he's just a big nerd

he's kinda self conscious about himself around you, but likes phsycial contact too much to deny himself of it so he's literally always attached to you and/or on top of you if he can help it

- hancock isn’t feral, but he sure does act like it sometimes. what he needs is someone who can balance him out and give him the space when he needs it, and who genuinely cares about he people around them regardless of who or what they are. just being there for him on the bad days means the world to him, and he wouldn’t give what y'all have up for all the caps and chems in the world

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cyn-00 · 4 years ago

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Moreid one shot, 17 - "my hands"

Season 9, episode 3 "Final shot" (this is the one where the team has to catch a sniper: initially they thought the unsub was motivated by racism, and when they discover that the gun was the same used a few months before by "The General" - in prison, ex leader of a white supremacists group - to kill a black councilman - Adrian Clay - AND that in one of the shootings the assistant d.a. prosecuting him for that crime was killed; they decide to interview him. Re-interpretation of the scene where Morgan and JJ hold hands to make uncomfortable "The General" - racist son of a b*tch - during the interrogation... only there's Reid instead of JJ ;)

I believe @amplifreid and @smileythirteen asked me to tag them ❤️

Also, in my imaginary world, Morgan and Reid are a well established couple by season 9, but to illustrate this scene properly I think it was way better to assume they weren't a couple yet. Also with the same intent, the interview to "The General" (Adam Dawson) happens in an interrogation room with the one-way mirror glass and everything. Bear with the divergence from the actual scene - some of Dawson, Morgan and JJ's (=Reid) lines do remain pretty much the same, though

Read it on AO3

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"Look at the change in his posture when Morgan got in..." Blake sighed, staring attentively at the interrogation room on the other side of the one-way glass. "Cocky. This guy's not gonna give us anything useful."

Rossi gave her an agreeing look, silently mimicking her head-shake while his hands slid in the pockets of his jeans.

"We'll have to work with that. Playing the black agent card is our best and only shot." Hotch replied.

"It's also very much obvious..." Blake added half-heartedly.

"He'll be too blinded by hate to even notice." Reid reassured her with a shrug, finally saying something after being glued to the glass for a few minutes with his arms folded on his chest, concentrated on the interrogation.

"Mr Dawson," Morgan greeted the convict with a fake polite tone, closing the door behind his back.

He sat in front of him and crossed his hands atop the metallic table. "Do you happen to have wondered why you're here?" he asked, squinting his eyes.

"I have a few guesses, yes." Dawson answered confidently.

Morgan tilted his head, while his brows shot up. He'd already picked up on what type of attitude the guy was planning to pull off on him for the whole duration of the interview.

"Would you mind naming a couple of those for me?"

Dawson sighed, nodding his head. "I guess we're talking about my past involvement with the Southern Aryans."

"Past?"

"Past. Look, I even got my tattoos removed." he confirmed, not hesitating to show him the laser scar on the inside of his arm with a self-complacent grin, even if constricted in his movements by the cuffs chained to the table top.

Morgan couldn't bring himself to feign praising at the thought the guy once marked his skin with symbols and slogans to proudly remind himself and others that not only he was a racist son of a bitch, but more than that he also acted upon those retrograde and disgusting ideologies of his. So he just nodded, not even bothering to actually look at Dawson's arm.

Hotch's phone rang in his pocket, distracting him from the dynamic slowly - very slowly - unfolding in the other room.

"What is it Garcia?"

"My baby is in there with Dawson right?? Not that you aren't my baby too, sir- I MEAN you guys ALL are my babies regardless of our age gap-"

"Garcia." Aaron reprimanded her.

"Yes! I'm- I'm sorry, back to business: I managed to dig deep and dirty into every single detail about the murder of Adrian Clay, and in general every little, petty criminal activity this group of disgusting bigots have committed." she paused, gulping so noisily they could all hear it through the phone.

"They- they have engaged in a series of, quote unquote, 'harassments of any sort', in those areas of the city principally frequented by the lgbtq+ community through these past couple years. And- and Clay himself was rumored to be homosexual, but there's no reliable source for that." she explained in a rush, like she wanted to get it out of her brain as quickly as her breath allowed her to.

"...don't know about you, but I'm not all that surprised the shitheads are also homophobic. Those things don't sound like anything a group of neo-nazis wouldn't do, am I right?" Rossi snorted. "They'll target anything 'impure'." he air-quoted the word.

"Yes, that's what I had imagined too, I just- I just hoped I didn't have to get to the point of reading proof of it with my poor, pretty eyes! Like these guys weren't evil on earth already..."

"Garcia, is there a reason why you're telling us this?" Hotch furrowed his brows. They were running out of time, and Morgan was running out of questions aiming at making Dawson say what they wanted him to say.

"Actually sir, I hoped you'd ask because YES, there is a reason, and I know that this is not part of my job but I was thinking that maybe...you guys could use his homophobia at your advantage?" she kept it vague and stopped for a second to catch a reaction. Anything at all. But the others stayed silent to digest that idea.

"like, one of you boys could go in there and act a lil? Believe me I would sacrifice myself for that role, but you know-"

"Actually, that's not a bad idea at all. As Blake said earlier, Dawson was probably expecting us to use a black agent anyway, but this could actually set him off because it's a part of the group's criminal activity that's been hidden from the media and the general public. We're not supposed to even know about this." Reid spoke his mind out loud, receiving in response complete silence and three - well, four, if you count Garcia - pairs of eyes staring at him.

He stared back at them with his lips parted. "W-what? I'm right, right ?"

"You are." Blake simply said, raising a brow.

With a little delay compared to the others' - which NEVER happened - Spencer's mind started to process what that whole staring contest was supposed to mean.

"No- guys, I'm- I'm too young he won't- he'll never fall for it! If you take in account that I look way younger than I am, the age gap between me and Morgan is too wide, he's not a fool I can't-" he was starting to stutter and flush and almost hyperventilate to the point Hotch had to interrupt him.

"Reid. You know it has to be you." he gave him an apologetic look.

Reid wasn't trying to dodge the situation because he had a problem with fake flirting - he did not have a single problem with doing that. On the contrary: fake flirting for an interrogation or the like was the only way for Spencer to manage to pull off a flirty attitude with someone, covering it up with the fact that he was simply good at acting, since in actuality flirting wasn't exactly his first natural skill - it was Derek's. Problem was: he had to flirt with Derek Morgan, not someone.

On the other hand, Spencer also perfectly knew why it was their best shot to send him in instead of Hotch. Still, it was worth the try to dissuade him.

"You could do it, right?" he asked apprehensively, the tone of his voice lower and less certain than before.

Hotch knew he didn't need to explain it to him, so he didn't bother, keeping his gaze steady. Blake took on that duty for him, though:

"Spencer, you are exactly Dawson and his followers' stereotype of ideal human being. You're young, educated, intelligent, attractive, and more importantly: white." she paused, seeing that Reid had embarrassedly dropped his eyes when she mentioned him being attractive. Guess Morgan wasn't the only one labeling him as 'pretty boy' then.

"The only thing that parts you from being total perfection in his eyes, is your sexual orientation." she concluded.

"The minute we send you in, he'll think you're there to save him from an uncomfortable interview with a black agent. But when you'll start making avancés on Morgan, the guy will freak out." Rossi added, straight up.

Making avancés on Morgan. Dear God - Spencer knew he could do that with a minimum effort, and certainly without Derek making a big deal out of it; however the issue was: he would never get away with the physical reaction the avancés on Derek 's part would certainly trigger in his body, would he?

"THAT's what I meant!" Penelope's squealing voice filled the room all of a sudden, reminding them that she was still on speaker phone.

"Alright, thanks Garcia, that was a good catch." Hotch's firm facial expression never wavered an inch, even when he complimented her.

"Duty, sir."

"We can't call Morgan out, though. It has to be unexpected." he added, now only talking to his teammates in the room.

Without waiting for the others' agreeing - there was no need for that: he was right - Hotch pressed the button that allowed him to talk into Morgan's earpiece.

"Morgan. Guy's not only racist, but also homophobic. We're sending Reid in."

Morgan swallowed, trying not to make Dawson notice that he received an unspoken command he wasn't quite sure whether he'd be ready to obey, nor handle - emotionally AND physically.

When the door opened a second after, though, and he glanced over his shoulder at his tall, lean colleague standing behind him, waiting for permission to come in, Derek figured it shouldn't be all that hard to flirt with that.

"Pretty boy! Have a seat, we're having fun here." he gave Spencer his brightest grin, hand gesturing at him to come closer.

The younger agent smiled awkwardly and closed the door, making his way to the chair only 5 inches beside Derek's - who, by the way, was overly aware that their knees would inevitably touch if he didn't pay attention to keeping his legs glued together.

As Spencer got comfortable in his seat, keeping eye contact with him and subtly brushing his tongue in between his pink lips, Derek wondered if that was gonna come naturally to Spencer as it surely was to him. From the look on his face and his body language, Derek was leaning toward yes as an answer to that question.

"Mr Dawson is sick and tired of me." Derek scoffed, leaning back in his chair to stretch an arm on the backrest of Spencer's. "Guessing you came here with a few questions of your own?" he asked him.

"I did." Spencer replied, squinting at Dawson with an inquisitive look. "Mr Dawson, by any chance you've kept in contact with the other members of the Southern Aryans' group?"

"Agent-"

"Doctor." Derek pointed out dryly. "Doctor Spencer Reid." the way he pronounced his name caused Spencer to shift in his seat. Morgan wasn't quite sure why.

"Doctor, then." Dawson snorted, eyebrows raised in surprise as to why the older agent cared that much about specifying the other's title. "As I was saying: I'm in prison. My opportunities to socialize are...somewhat limited." he replied sarcastically. Which was how he'd been doing it at every single question Derek had asked.

The fact that he was managing to keep that cocky attitude was a sign that he wasn't uncomfortable enough. Everyone had imagined he would've got all jittery the second the nickname "pretty boy" would've come out of Morgan's mouth. Apparently so, Derek had to step up his game.

"Spencer, baby," Derek called him so he'd lean back in his chair as well, drawing his face farther away from "The General" and from under the blinding neon light beam illuminating the area of the table.

Reid leaned back as Morgan had implicitly asked him to, crossing his arms on his chest. Spencer, baby. The instinctive part of his brain didn't hesitate a second to recognize the combination of pet name + uncommon use of his first name, associated with Derek's deep voice. Probably because he'd imagined his colleague calling him that a thousand times, along with other names - some less appropriate than others - he couldn't keep his mind from drifting to when he heard that voice of his. The other part of his grey matter though, the logical, predominant one, the one used to Morgan only calling him by his last name or "pretty boy" and "kid" at most; sent a tingling sensation from the canal of his ear where the words reached him, all the way down to his arms and hands.

Spencer kept his gaze on the convict sitting across from them, as he realized Derek had inched dangerously closer to his ear. Dawson shifted nervously in his seat, jerking his eyes away from the two of them.

"You think we should kiss at some point? " the man asked mockingly at last, whispering and with a hand half-covering the motions of his mouth: he was acting like he didn't want Dawson to be able to hear, or read his labial - which, on the contrary, was exactly his plan.

Spencer froze. He tried to keep his look on Dawson unchanged. What he could NOT control, though, was the sensation of heat spreading up his neck, 3 inches from Derek's mouth. Dawson, too, was very noticeably trying to contain his sickened reaction, which turned out to be a mere close-eyed sigh and an irritated clench of jaw.

Reid pulled off the most natural chuckle he could, before answering out loud.

"I don't think it'll be necessary." it was true: Derek had asked only as a joke, and Spencer understood that. But he kinda wished in that moment it were appropriate for him to reply "yes, please, tongue me down during an interrogation."

Derek leaned forward again, finally removing his eyes from that spot of Spencer's jawline below his ear that moved as he spoke.

"Anyway. That's not what we heard." he said, pointing at him and Reid with his finger. "Rumor has it that you're in charge. In fact, you're still known as 'The General'."

"Some folks would like to, uh, imbue me with a great deal of power. But it's a mantle I choose not to accept." The General answered, his voice less arrogant than before and maybe even ever-so-slightly hoarse.

"So you COULD call the shots, you just... choose not to...?" Reid asked, unconvinced and a bit concerned about what kind of annoyingly fake-innocent answer the guy would give this time.

"That's what I said. How can I lead when I no longer believe, 'pretty boy' ?" Dawson replied, back at it with his smug tone, air-quoting the nickname.

Spencer had the abrupt - albeit fictitious - feeling that someone was knotting his guts with their bare hands, when he heard the man pronouncing those two words. Sacred, two words, only reserved to Morgan.

"Doctor Spencer Reid, is my name. Thought you were smart enough to understand it the first time." he said ice cold, leaning forward, knuckles white from crossing his hands too tightly over the table top.

"You're not allowed to call him that." Morgan stated, his black eyes piercing through the man in front of them.

"With all due respect, that's what you called him earlier, agent Morgan."

"With all due respect, Spencer is MY boyfriend, not yours." Derek bit back.

The lack of hesitation in pronouncing the words 'Spencer is my boyfriend' and how good they sounded coming out of Morgan's lips, along with the way he untangled Reid's hands to take one of them in his, warmly and comfortingly intertwining their fingers to loosen the tension in his phalanges - all of it, made Spencer's heart speed up, and his lungs hitch as he breathed, and his mouth water, realizing now more than ever how much he actually wished all of that could be real.

"Although I bet you wish he was your boyfriend, don't you?" Morgan added, teasing Dawson even more. The man snorted, but his body language was telling them that he was struggling to keep an unbothered attitude.

"Is that why you killed Adrian Clay? Because he was black and probably had a boyfriend, just like agent Morgan here?" Spencer asked.

Derek looked at him with his brows raised, pleased at how well he was keeping up with his game. Though, that sensation managed to ease only partially the slight but sudden feeling of discomfort that hit in his chest, at the news that the councilman that was killed was black AND gay, just like...him? Was he bisexual? The things flashing in Morgan's mind in reaction to the proximity with Reid's body, and that feeling of having his hand melting in his - the feeling that holding Spencer's hand was right - were making Derek doubt even more his already unclear understanding of his own sexual orientation. Doctor Spencer Reid was making him doubt once again his sexual orientation.

Clenching his hands in tight fists, Dawson made an effort to visibly swallow the expectedly offensive comments he bore on the matter - Derek found himself mentally thanking him for that - and shifted his eyes toward the wall at his left, too disgusted by him and Spencer to keep looking at them any longer.

As soon as he did that, Morgan felt Reid's hand slipping out of his, much to his silent disapproval.

"Alright Derek we- we're wasting our time here." Spencer mumbled, turning his back on Derek with his eyes low and placing a palm on the table top, about to stand up from the chair.

Derek had the impression that Spencer's reaction was somewhat genuine, that he really was starting to get triggered by The General's attitude - righteously. But, as selfish as he knew it sounded, he didn't want Reid to leave his side. His hand. Him.

Before he could effectively get up, Morgan wrapped his hand around that spot on Reid's arm, the crook where his forearm met his bicep, a couple inches below his shirt rolled up sleeve; that spot where his exposed skin was sensitive enough that those curling fingers sprung tickling chills everywhere, intense to the point of Spencer freezing in place and turning his head to give Derek worried puppy eyes and sweet, slightly pouty lips that Goddammit can I just KISS them off his face?

"C'mon baby, I just have a few more questions" Derek settled to say, softly, trying to recover from that fucking look of his.

"No seriously, can- can we just g-"

"Hey, hey, hold tight. We haven't even got to the point yet. It'll only take a second and then we don't have to see this son of a bitch's face anymore alright? Promise." Morgan reassured him; pitch black irises staring straight into hazel brown ones.

Spencer sighed and nodded, as Derek loosened the grip. He leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms, annoyed but ready to listen to more of the man's crap.

Dawson snorted. "You must have quite the nerve to come in here and insult me, tell me I'm a racist and a homophobic-"

"Nobody said either of those things, Mr Dawson." Derek tilted his head. "We asked, and you didn't answer. Not verbally anyway. Seems to me that now you are the one saying those words, uh?"

"What do you know about today's events?" Reid cut it short, not even willing to wait for Dawson's reaction at Morgan's insinuation.

"Today's events?"

"You must have heard about the shootings." Derek specified, carelessly leaning on the backrest, and decided it was the moment to do what he had planned on doing since Spencer entered the room.

Reid had his eyes fixated on Dawson, to catch every single twitch of his facial muscles, or minute movement of his body.

Suddenly he felt a hot, broad hand wrapping around his inner thigh. He sincerely hoped the only physical reaction to that were his toes curling up inside his shoes, or at worst how his breath got stuck in his throat for a second, and nothing visible on the outside - because on the inside, he could feel his whole abdomen heat up at a concerning rate.

When the man's hand started stroking back and forth, each time his palm went upwards it seemed to Spencer that it was getting closer and closer to that part of his body he wished so bad Derek wasn't aiming for - at least not in that context. Spencer tightened the grip of his hands bracing his arms, thanking God that shirts were made of cotton and not paper that would start flaking off under the squeezing pressure of sweaty fingers.

He couldn't allow himself to take his eyes off Dawson, especially now that he'd seen Morgan's hand on Reid's thigh and had immediately stiffened up; his temples glimmering with sweat under the neon light.

Dawson gulped nervously and looked away from the whole rubbing of skin on fabric, bringing his gaze back to Morgan's smirking face. "Enlighten me."

"The assistant d.a. prosecuting you for the murder of Adrian Clay was killed." Reid condensed the explanation, realizing that if he wanted to look natural he had to say something. He admittedly did a pretty good job at keeping his voice steady, considering Morgan's hand seemed having no intention to find rest any time soon.

A confused scowl crinkled the convict's face.

"Did you order that hit?" Derek asked. To be fair, both him and Spencer were almost 100% sure by then that the guy had no idea what they were talking about.

"I had nothing to do with it." Dawson asserted without hesitation, his voice deep and unfazed.

By that point, Spencer had relaxed into the other's touch, and he didn't know whether it was supposed to be a good sign or not. He didn't know whether the fact that he melted like jelly under Morgan's hands, even being usually uncomfortable with touching in general, was a good sign because it meant that he felt safe within their friendship and trustful of him; or it was a bad sign because it meant that his body was designed to be touched like that by his colleague and him only. He didn't know whether it was good that if he thought of anyone else - his former crush JJ, for instance - touching him in a way that wasn't finalized to be emotionally comforting, he would picture it as uneasy regardless, be it 30 seconds or 30 minutes long; whereas he was almost certain that that very same kind of touch applied upon his body by Morgan's hands would be in equal parts electrifying and soothing each time, all the time.

He wasn't supposed to try and understand any of it, though. Nobody was asking that of him - Derek wasn't asking and would never ask that of him. There was no need for Spencer to spend hours analyzing how that kind of approach would affect him. Because it was an unrealistic scenario that didn't belong in his future, anyway.

A growing wave of self-consciousness and realism woke Reid up from that thought. All of a sudden he realized he couldn't bear staying there any longer than a couple minutes at best. Hence, he speeded things up.

"You had nothing to do with it?" Spencer's calm voice echoed in the room that had been silent for a while. Dawson didn't repeat himself.

Derek was ready to throw in the towel - he was frustrated that the case wouldn't come to a solution as easy and logical as a white supremacist targeting the assistant d.a. prosecuting him, but on the other hand he couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed spending time touching Spencer without the commitment of having to admit he would've wanted to do it regardless of the interview.

With the corner of his eye he saw Spencer finally untangling his arms and stretching one of them toward him. He didn't have the time to take a mental guess on what he was planning to do, that he felt his feather-like fingers slightly brushing against his nape.

Derek's palm stopped moving on the other's thigh, immobilized, the moment Spencer's cotton-hand spread to cup the back of his neck; a lukewarm and soft sensation growing on the very surface of his skin as well as deep inside his chest - nothing short of a cheesy metaphor, if you will, of how Spencer's touch had the power of rocking up both his emotions AND his body.

When Spencer's thumb started tracing slow circles on the side of his neck, Derek found himself imperceptibly tilting his head back to sink into his touch; trying not to put pressure or, way worse, squeeze the other man's thigh, who might've taken it as a cue that Morgan was enjoying what he was doing. He most certainly was, by the way.

"And that would be, because you're not racist or homophobic anymore?" Spencer ultimately asked.

God, he was smarter than he gave himself credit for when it came to pushing all the bad guys' buttons. And they couldn't even get mad, with that face that he had. At least, Derek knew he could never - best case scenario, he would limit to sprinkling said face with kisse- ahem, what?

"I'm done talking to you." Dawson claimed, having pulled himself together enough to bring back almost entirely that confident attitude he had when Morgan first got in.

"Oh, we are too." Morgan said arching his brows. He stood up on his feet, regretting detaching from Reid's contact immediately after.

"Mr Dawson, I can't tell you how impressed i am with you!" he added dry-wittingly.

Derek leaned forward over the table and grabbed the man's hands in his own, cuffed to the cold, metallic surface. He kept his eyes no more than 7 inches from his, making sure he couldn't escape them.

"So I'd like to shake your hand, and congratulate you for making such a positive change in your life." he said, his voice low and thorough, resonating in The General's ears.

Dawson lost his cool and instinctively tried to snatch his hands away from Morgan's grip, soon realizing it wasn't his grip he couldn't escape, rather the one obliged by the chained handcuffs.

"I'd be really careful." Morgan advised, a stabbing glare in his eyes.

"Because somebody might think you still believe."

Clearly, Derek had long lost any interest in keeping the boyfriend-play going: he looked furious and quite nauseous - and it was his God-given right to feel as such. Nonetheless, that was nothing but the millionth proof that Spencer had no reason to fantasize about their relationship becoming something more, someday.

Morgan stormed out of the room. Reid followed a few seconds after, which he'd spent shooting Dawson one last glance - not nearly as threatening and blood-freezing as his colleague's, but still.

When they got on the other side of the glass, Reid felt all eyes on them - especially on him, for some reason. It was like someone slapped him back into reality.

"Sorry guys, I- I kinda snapped." Morgan finally spoke up, a hand on his hip and the other rubbing his face.

"Don't. It was very much understandable." Blake reassured him, waving a hand and shaking her head.

"Well, what can I say?" Rossi changed the topic. "Great job in there." he added with a hint of smirk, arching a brow and shifting his gaze from Spencer to Derek and viceversa several times.

"Pretty boy here did all the work." Derek's tone was lighter now, as he pointed at pretty boy.

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek, unable to even say a due "thank you" - it would've come off as pathetic in that moment, to say the least.

"It- it was kinda useless, though...he had no idea what we were talking about." he said instead, sighing disappointedly and crossing his arms on his chest.

"He didn't even explicitly confess anything about his past crimes that we brought up. We literally only managed to confirm that he's a racist, homophobic piece of shit." Derek scoffed.

"We didn't need to put up a show for that though, did we?" he concluded, as his previous frustration arose again; seconds before splitting his way through his standing teammates to get out of the room.

They followed him with their eyes, and once the door was closed - slammed, almost - behind him, they got back to looking at Reid, who was frowning deeply.

After a long silence, Rossi nodded his head toward the door, like he was giving him permission to go and talk to Morgan.

Reid sighed and followed Morgan's previous steps, trying to hide how his words and tone from earlier had someway offended him. Judging by his demeanor and his glances in the interrogation room, Spencer could've sworn Derek seemed to have almost enjoyed it - he didn't care that it was probably more of a mocking kind of enjoyment, rather than a genuine 'I enjoyed touching you'. It was still something. And, at the end of the day, Derek Morgan had rubbed a hand on his thigh 2 inches from his groin, for Christ's sake, how dare he keep complaining?

He was startled awake from his paranoia by Hotch's hand, placed on his shoulder the second Spencer had grabbed the door handle.

"I hope I didn't push you too much. I'm sorry if I did."

Spencer shook his head. "Not me. I don't know about Morgan, though."

"Hey" a soft voice awakened Morgan from his thoughts.

He stopped pacing up and down the hallway and raised his eyes from the floor. He truly wasn't expecting Reid to follow him.

"H- hey, kid."

"Everything alright?"

No. Nothing was alright. From how wrong and dirty Dawson's behavior made him feel, to how right he found himself unwillingly thinking the contact with Spencer's body was: NOTHING was alright.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." he answered anyway.

Spencer nodded, unconvinced. And this time it wasn't because of his capability to read his colleague and best friend like an open book, rather simply because Derek didn't know how to hide his discomfort anymore.

Reid made a few steps forward, supposedly to make the conversation more intimate - though nobody was really around, so that left the other a bit confused. Plus, boy was definitely too close now, if it was Derek's to say.

"Look, I- I'm sorry it had to be me, I tried to convince Hotch to do it at my place but- but he said that I was more suited to be-" Spencer almost hiccuped. "...for the role, because I'm younger and-"

"Hey, hey, it's alright, it's not you." Derek interrupted him, placing a hand on his shoulder, seeing that he was starting to get flustered and even guilty on some measure. He also noticed how he avoided the word 'boyfriend'. He wasn't sure what to think of that, though.

"It's him. How he looked at us- at ME. I just- I don't know, I just can't believe some people out there really think it's not normal to be gay or black or both, that's all." Derek paused. "as if one could help it, right?" he snorted.

Spencer raised his eyes from the floor. "Yeah. I get that." he murmured.

Derek chuckled a little as a thought popped into his head, taking his hand off of Spencer's shoulder and shoving it back in his pocket.

"Honestly I don't know if I could've done it with Hotch. He's my superior, it would've been...weird, lemme tell you."

Reid giggled and...blushed a little? At least that's what it seemed. Morgan didn't take it well, though: he thought he'd made him uncomfortable.

"I mean," he swallowed sheepishly. "I mean, I hope I didn't...mess you up. I know you're not comfortable with touching."

Mess him up. That was cute. Derek Morgan had "messed him up" the second he had introduced himself to Spencer on his first day at the BAU. The guy had never known Spencer as not messed up.

"W- what?? No, no absolutely not, it was part of the thing. We- you had to...touch me. Wouldn't have worked otherwise." Spencer replied, furrowing his brows and shaking his head vigorously.

Silence.

"I have to ask you this..." Morgan said, regaining his usual teasing attitude. Reid wasn't sure if he was supposed to be relieved, because it meant the man had relaxed a little; or if he should start worrying about what that attitude would imply. Probably the second.

"Ask what?" Spencer hoped his heart couldn't be heard as loudly from outside as it was inside his ears.

"Was it all...acting?" Derek paused, and Spencer faked a confused expression, because before answering he had to be sure he meant what he thought he meant.

"...cause it looked very natural, if you ask me." Yeah, he did mean what Spencer thought he meant.

Morgan looked around quickly and came even closer. He non-chalantly took Reid's tie in his hands and straightened it - earning a gasp from him - biting his bottom lip like he was really concentrated on the task - which he wasn't. He didn't give a shit if his tie was ok, he was clearly doing it to make Reid's blood pulse out of his veins.

"Was it? Natural?" he repeated, almost murmuring at that point.

Spencer didn't know what to answer: he had stopped the train of thought that would've eventually led to a proper answer to that question when he was in the interrogation room, and he had suddenly realized that Derek would never ask such a thing of him. And there he was: asking it to him.

"I guess, kinda...? I- I'm not sure-" he finally replied, his chin tilted down to follow with his eyes what the man's hands were carefully doing with his tie, taking advantage in the fact that Derek couldn't look at his face in order to do that.

He couldn't stop his mind from drifting to that imaginary place where Morgan's hands would most definitely not stick to adjusting his tie; that place where he was allowed to wonder that if the man was so good at adjusting ties, then what else could those nimble fingers do.

As if that weren't enough already, Derek ran his tongue in between his lips, before speaking up.

"Me neither."

Suddenly, he raised his eyes to look at something that was happening behind Reid's shoulder. He coughed and nodded in that direction, forcing himself to take his hands off Spencer.

Reid turned around and saw it: Hotch, Blake and Rossi were walking their way toward them; luckily chatting instead of looking at Morgan "adjusting his tie" or whatever.

"And did you mind? My hands, I mean." Derek whispered in his ear from behind him, making him wince at how those words flowed smoothly in a hot, steamy wave over his neck.

Spencer didn't turn around, nor look at him with the corner of his eye - which he could've easily done. He concentrated on staring forward at their teammates approaching closer, rather than on the inviting heat radiating from the man only a few inches behind him.

"...n- not- not really..." he muttered, not sure what kind of nerve pushed him to give Morgan even the slightest hint that he could've enjoyed it, instead of denying adamantly.

Another breathy, humid whisper tickled his ear.

"Me neither."

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themluckyfew-moved · 4 years ago

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💗 with Zane ^w^

Thank you for asking!! qwq

Send me a 💗+ an f/o and I'll tell you...

•Who fell for the other first?

Hmm.. this one is kind of hard to say, but I wanna say Chikaru fell first. Both him and Zane had shared a vision when they first met that suggested that they would end up together in the future, but both of them ignored it until Chikaru's shop was destroyed. Zane was the one who pulled Chikaru out of the rubble and after that Chikaru was kind of smitten 👉👈

•Who said "I love you" first?

Chikaru again! I've talked about this before so I won't get too detailed, but it happened right after Zane found out he was a robot

•Who is more affectionate in public/private?

Surprisingly Zane is much more affectionate in public than Chikaru is! He wasn't at first, but that was mostly due to them still being in a dangerous situation and having to train Lloyd. After the events of season 4 Zane opened up a lot more about his affections :> Chikaru gets flustered way too easily to be as flirty as he is out and about. He tries, but ultimately most of his flirts happen behind closed doors

•Who initiates cuddle sessions?

Both of them do, but Zane tends to initiate them more. He's very grabby and tends to just hold onto Chikaru every chance he gets.

•How do we cheer each other up?

Cheering up Zane is kind of a mixed bag. Used to he would just have to give Zane space and let him sort it out on his own, but as time went on Chikaru started to realize that wasn't very good for either of them, so he started slowly staying with Zane more and more whenever Zane got sad. Chikaru will sit with him and hold him and rub his shoulders while he talks about what's bugging him. They'll also sit on the roof of the monastery and talk there because Zane tends to run off and hide there when he's down. Sometimes if Zane is having an especially hard time and doesn't want to be seen then Chikaru will sit outside his room and slide cute doodles under his door and talk to him through the wall.

Whenever Chikaru is sad Zane will wrap them both up in a blanket and cuddle him until Chikaru is ready to talk about it. It doesn't usually take long for Chikaru to open up, and he's a lot easier to cheer up than Zane is- but if it is a really bad day then Zane might make Chikaru's comfort food and he'll use his ice powers to keep Chikaru grounded when he starts freaking out.

•Who is more likely to plan a surprise date for the other?

Zane!! He plans surprises for Chikaru a lot! Usually the other Ninja have to help him plan it all out, but most of his surprise dates and events turn out very successful uwu

•Who suggests the more creative date ideas?

Hmmm.... Well uh... Neither of them. Chikaru and Zane at first didn't really know what they were doing and so Kaori and the ninja gave them date ideas to get them started. The longer they were together the more their dates just became them hanging out and just doing whatever they wanted. And whenever Zane or Chikaru wanted to do something especially special or elaborate then they would ask the others for advice.

•Who steals the other's clothes?

CHIKARU. Half of his closet at this point is Zane's clothes

•Who is more likely to leave cute little sticky notes for the other to find?

Also Chikaru!! They were just reminders for himself at first, but then Zane started leaving cute messages on them whenever he found one and so Chikaru started leaving his own messages for Zane to find qwq

•What our favourite thing to do during the summer is?

Swimming for one thing! But late night stargazing really takes the cake for summer activities. Chikaru went most of his life being blind as fuck and didn't have glasses, so when he finally did get glasses and was able to see the stars he always became super fixated on them and Zane takes advantage of that and they stargaze on the roof.

•What our favourite thing to do during the winter?

Chikaru hates cold weather. Funny, I know considering his husband is the master of ice... So he doesn't usually have the energy to do much in winter time. When he does though they like to ice skate together! Chikaru can rollerskate but can't really ice-skate, so more often than not he's just clinging onto Zane while he drags Chikaru around. Winter is also primetime for baking, so the two cook together a lot as well!!

#ask game #thank you for asking!#self ship #self ship asks #mutuals being doods #❄️i know who i am❄️#ross babbles

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mystech-master · 5 years ago

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Ragna in the other BBTAG worlds

I asked a while ago for ideas as to where Ragna could end up post-CF as his “retirement” world, I’ve gotten like 3 suggestions; Bleach (mainly to pair him with Kukaku Shiba, but given everything else happening in that world he’ll have no chill there), Animal Crossing, and Mario Galaxy (on the Comet Observatory with Rosalina and the Lumas)

but today, I want to take a look at how he’d fare living in the worlds presented to us in BlazBlue Cross Tag Battle. Just for the hell of it:

Long post bellow

Persona: if Ragna were to end up living in the Persona world thing might be difficult at first, he grew up in the middle of nowhere and the woods and lived in a post-apocalyptic dystopian future, so there will be a bit of a culture shock. But if Akihiko can run around shirtless then this world will be fine with someone like Ragna. I think he might end up working with the Shadow Operatives, hey he was raised to fight so may as well put his supernatural power and fighting ability to use against the Shadows right? I mean the Kirijo group managed to make an identity for Aigis when she attended Gekkoukan High in P3, so they could make Ragna have an identity. Since the dude has Son Goku levels of education I ‘d find it funny if Mitsuru put his ass through some kind of education program or something. I mean it is never too late to get an education and I’m sure there are many real-life examples of people who couldn’t go to school for some reason or another. Also, I’ve said this before, Ragna might give of serious “Shinjiro” vibes to the Shadow Operatives, so they might be able to navigate his personality a bit better. Mitsuru can be the cool-headed one w/o being a bitch like Rachel, Akihiko would make a good sparring partner, he’ll treat Aigis and Labrys right since he treats the Murakumos like people, Yukari is pretty normal compared to most of them and can also get annoyed by their antics so Ragna might like her (he enjoys the company of average/normal people since they aren’t too zany for his tastes), Ken is pretty mature for his age, but Junpei might get on his nerves. But also, if Ragna enters around P4 Arena time, then if he stays there a few years he could be present for the Persona 5 story, and THAT would be a fun setting to play in with Ragna.

Under Night In-Birth: it being a modern world won’t be too much of an issue, like with Persona there’ll be some culture shock but lots of the people there are also kind of weirdoes. If he ends up with the main good guys (Hyde, Linne, Waldstein, and Vatista) we can just add another guy bumming around Hyde’s house. Helping train Hyde, spar with Wald, cook for Linne (give her actual good food and she’ll be worshiping you I bet), and Vatista May remind him of Lambda so he’d be chill around her. But another idea could be him being a mercenary like Gordeau, like maybe the two becoming friendly rivals or something (I just liked how chill he was with Ragna in BBTAG’s story oka, sue me). Also, I could totally see Hilda trying to recruit Ragna into Amnesia because she hears about him being the SS-Class criminal trying to take down the keepers of the order of his world, much like how she is trying to do to Licht Kreis, she tries to get a little flirty with him, but Ragna declines b/c 1. When he was taking on the N.O.L. he was doing it for revenge, Hilda is just doing it for shits and giggles (10 points to whoever gets that reference), 2. Ragna can totally sense danger coming to from this chick, and 3. the dude is at least smart enough not to stick his dick in crazy. He and Merkava would have an interesting conversation, Merkava being a beast with a man within, and Ragna being a man with a beast within.

RWBY: Okay this might depend on where in the timeline he’s put (Pre-Volume 3 like in BBTAG, or Pre-Volume 6 like what I’ve been thinking of), but let’s stick with the Beacon arc-like in BBTAG. The current state of the world is: Cinder and her team are in disguise as Haven students, Roman is arrested, everyone thinks the threat is gone and that the Breach was the big plan, but the Ozluminati know better and are just trying to keep the peace. Ragna is a very aggressive person and easily angered, not a good thing when dealing with Grimm, which are attracted to negative emotions. Also, may I remind you that the Grimm have no souls, and thus are immune to Ragna's Soul Eater power drive which is partially what has allowed him to be such a dangerous threat in his world. In fact, his power is WAY more suitable for fighting people, considering the Huntsmen and Huntresses powers come from their Aura which comes from their soul. Like, he just grabs them and watches that Aura meter just drop FAST. Also, I’m not sure if he’d even be able to gain Aura and a Semblance himself with the Azure Grimoire also fucking his soul up. Ironwood might just say to kill/imprison this guy before he becomes a threat while Ozpin might try and be a bit more diplomatic if he at least hears about his nicer exploits (maybe from Ruby). And no, I do not know how his Soul Eater power could be used on the Maiden Powers or Ozpin’s reincarnating soul. MAYBE it could be used to kill Salem by consuming HER immortal soul instead of just physically killing her, but I do not know if it could be used to rip the Maiden Powers out of their hosts. He and Qrow might talk about their shitty lives but when Qrow offers him a drink Ragna declines b.c Ragna’s Azure Grimoire healing factor also works on toxins (seen in the Variable Heart manga where he shrugs of Shiori’s poison), also I think Ragna views Alchohol as a bitch’s way of dealing with problems. A fight between him and Raven would be interesting also, like them giving each other lectures about family: Ragna giving Raven shit for abandoning Yang (who I assume he might bond with), while Raven says that he has no right to talk about family considering the state of HIS.

There’s probably a lot more that could happen but I can’t think of anything else atm.

I’ll be skipping Arcana Heart since A. I barely know jack fuck about that series (the second game isn't even localized), B. the main powerset in that game seems to only go to girls, which leads to C. there are NO male characters, not even side NPCs, so Ragna would stick out WAY too much.

Senran Kagura: Much like Arcana Heart I don’t know much but I looked through character descriptions and some basic plot summaries here and there (mostly from TVTropes so please forgive me if I fuck something up, which I will) , so I at least get the BASIC gist of things going on. The only place I could think of Ragna going is him looking after or palling around with the Homura Crimson Squad. He isn’t one to join some big organization (the Good Ninja side won’t accept him after his MASSIVE body count in his world, and the Hebijo guys are way too intense), and depending on the timeline he could either help protect the Crimson Squad from the Hebijo team out to kill them for deserting, or he also likes to be independent and train/fight his own way. He could help Homura train for her next fight with her rival Asuka (plus she’ll be a fan of his meat cooking). He might try to get Yomi to add some more variety to her food instead of bean sprouts (cue fight). Hikage might freak him out since she looks like almost a female Hazama/Terumi, but she also struggles with socializing and likes to cook for her friends so after the initial awkwardness they might get along. Mirai hates being ignored so this might cause some annoyance to Ragna, but she’s also a bully victim. I could see him being annoyed by her but then later sees her getting picked on and his big-brother instinct kicks in and he helps, then they gain a sort of understanding. Haruka is the real beast here, the dominatrix sadist scientist who wants to make people her dolls, so Ragna might need to step up a bit to keep her under control (like I said I only know the bare minimum, she might not actually be that bad post-character development but I don’t know). Finally, just for the sake of it, I’m not too sure where on the power scale Ragna would fall in the SK universe. The most powerful person there is Sayuri/Jasmine, with I think Rin and Daidōji both sharing the second strongest spot. I’ll say Ragna is around Daidōji and Rin’s level because Sayuri/Jasmine would most likely be like Jubei level. Also because the power scaling in Blazblue is absurd so comparing the Shinobi (of whom only a few have unique powers) to the Blazblue cast (who have magical weapons and reality-fucking powers) is kind of unfair, plus it gives Ragna a sort of cap so he won’t be too unstoppable in this world. Finally, not too keen on shipping. I’ve been using the “half your age plus seven” rule of dating so to not make things weird, Ragna is 22 in my HC and the minimum age is 18 (lots of people say once your over 18 you can date whoever you want that’s older, but........no), but while a few girls in SK are 18 they are still in high school (the birthdays and ages don’t match up with their school years, and that angers me) so.....no, he just has a big brother instinct for the Crimson Squad.

I’ll also skip Akatsuki Blitzkampf b/c A. Like Arcana Heart above I barely know the story, and B. What little I have seen of the story isn’t.......much. Story Isn’t exactly a big factor in this series.

Lemme know what you guys think Ragna would get up to in these other worlds. I might add to this if another series is added to BBTAG.

#ragna the bloodedge #persona #persona 3 #persona 4 #p4 #p3 #persona 4 arena #p4a #persona 4 arena ultimax #p4au #under night in-birth #uni #rwby #senran kagura #arcana heart #bbtag #blazblue cross tag battle

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lanamemories · 5 years ago

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hLO itsa me nai-io!!!!! (read shrieked in a high voice like mario if he buckled his dungarees too tight around the crotch)...... im sad i missed opening bt i had a pretty busy past 2 days so i didn’t hav any chance at all to b online bc i ws staying at a friends bt. anyway. excited to b here nw regardless of my Fashionably Late entrance. i’m 22 n live in manchester (the u freakin k Bay Bee) n cackle a little too mch like a witch fr supernatural suspicions nt to arise. thts all u rly need to kno. like this or hmu fr plots!!

p.s. this is her pinterest for those of u tht like tht kind of thing

「 bridget satterlee. cis-female. 」have you seen lana jameson around yet? i hear SHE decided to be in ALPHA NU for their JUNIOR year as a DANCE major. the 21 year old SHEEP is known to be vivacious, alluring, childish and impulsive. ➨ the muse is written by nai. she is 22, in the gmt.

some random aesthetics: a red water pistol topped up with caribbean rum and covered in stickers of cartoon pin up girls, a vinyl record whirring silently because you got too distracted by a stranger’s hands to reach over and flip sides, giant inflatable flamingos floating in the aftermath of a pool party, smudgy lipstick kisses left like an autograph on someone else’s mirror, seventies platforms covered in bowie inspired lightening stripes, fanning the flush in your cheeks with a bright red flamenco fan in the back of a crowded lecture hall, michelangelo reminiscent statures clasping at their stone in suggestive places, bopping stranger’s on the forehead with heart shaped lollipops, a bumper sticker on the back of a convertible cadillac that says ‘SCRAPPY DOO IS A FILTHY SLUT’, lighting a paper lantern and saying “aw, how pretty,” only for the whole party to shriek as it crashes into a children’s tent in the next garden over, a ball point pen that turns a woman naked when you click up the nib, cackling so ferociously that you almost throw up and your ribs ache.

ok im a Lay Zee gorl n dnt wna waste any mre time redoin lana’s intro so im pastin in her old one so i cn hop right to interactions. the only thing i can think tht needs to b added is the stuff abt danny nielsen (an evil npc of mine bc im a sadist) who recently beat up zeke van doren (full name this is Official feel like im writin a journalist article) bc he found out him n lana slept tgether n her n danny were kind of dating if....u can call his idea of romance tht. danny is in custody nw bt its a whole Thing like.... is prob... known around lockwood bc it ws a pretty intense..... thing tht happened n danny ws quite a popular senior

grew up in a big house in albany, NY, bt also spent time all over the place n was in the city a lot

okay so her mum is an old money socialite / three time campaign model way back when n her dad is a big record label mogul. he owns a label called jameson records n they repped a few big rock bands back in the eighties, altho they’re mostly known for ‘poppy injects’ whose lead singer had a big heroin scandal tht brought down his career. lana p much grew up around musicians snorting lines instead of spooning down cereal fr breakfast n her parents were v much absent her whole life

they’re pretty well off obviously n bc of her relation to such a big music industry figure she’s hung out w a fair few relatively high rep ppl thru her teens. she amassed kind of an instagram following mainly fr her style (v penny lane-esque in some aspects aka lots of fur cuff trimmed jackets bt then also jst…. a wild combination of everything honestly. pastel faux fur coats, seventies style platforms, flame red cowboy boots, pink fishnet tights n glitter used like highlight Everywhere) n bc she’s undeniably very pretty

her parents always kind of jst… didn’t like her. it was v clear that she was an accident after her older brother caleb n that even when they just had him alone they weren’t cut out for parenthood. they always kind of jst… ignored her n hoped she’d go away. she had to mke herself microwave meals when she ws only like 12 bc they’d forget to get her anything. once she went like 6 days without her mum even looking her in the eyes once

despite this tho!!! she’s always been insanely close w her brother caleb. he’s her whole world. thts why when he decided to sign up to the army she ws understandably scared bt supported him after initially bein mad tht he ws leavin her all alone. bt then he wound up getting discharged under grounds of severe ptsd when he witnessed his best friend die in an explosion tht took place in a shock raid. caleb returned home n he was never the same n lana kind of felt like he’d died out there too. he’s in n out of hospital a lot n it’s rly hard on her bt she doesn’t tlk abt it to anyone rly

growing up lana was always a huge social butterfly. jst literally…. knew everyone n everyone definitely knew her. she ws one of those girls tht ws kind of impossible to ignore or forget. very animated, always made u feel like u were the centre of the universe whenever she spoke to u, always made it feel like u were best friends even if ud only spoken to her once. she has this magnetic way abt her tht is kind of hard to find in real life. it’s something ud only rly expect out of a movie character n she like. deliberately puts tht on sort of. kind of.... is always playing A Role of the person tht she wants to b seen as

she’s always been insatiably spontaneous n adventurous. always doing something weird n wild every weekend. she has ten thousand stories tht always earn a laugh or a gasp over how ridiculously absurd they r

anyway so after caleb got back he was rly withdrawn n depressed. he shut lana out n was kind of harsh to her a lot of the time, always telling her to leave him alone or pushing her away. it didnt help either tht lana had a rly traumatic experience w some of her dad’s colleagues at the label when she ws 16 n he was away n she cldnt even tell him abt it once he was bk bc of his own traumas. she kind of jst shut it all in n kept it to herself

this obviously?? made her spiral a lot. she was already a girl tht loved sex (she’d only rly done foreplay before tho) but since her trauma it got…. completely out of hand. it got to a point where she couldnt rly go 2 days without it, probably not even 1. her lowest point has probably been scrolling thru craiglist for anonymous encounters n meeting up w strangers on there fr a quick fuck jst for the thrill even tho it’s insanely dangerous n she cld wind up getting herself killed. it’s v clear at this point tht she has a sex addiction whether she’s ever admitted it or not

she also currently? is working as a cam girl. she found this website bc she trawls… porn stuff a lot n she wound up applying to work as one bc she thought it’d b fun n wld earn her some disposal income (even tho she frankly doesn’t need it bc she’s already well off). the guy tht manages all of the girls on the site is kind of suspect n it’s a whole plot i’m gna unravel where it’s actually like the front for a cult or something wild so. stay posted ig. kgjdkgjh

personality/some fun facts: uncontrollably flirty. boundlessly confident. cld make a joke out a paper bag n her comedy is sometimes surreal / absurd. she tends to laugh when she feels like crying n has a smile brighter than a ray of texas sunshine. always dapples her fingers thru the breeze when she’s driving in a car w the window down. her fav book as a child used to b alice in wonderland n she’d fantasise abt having her own little wonderland too where everyone knew her name n asked her things n took her on adventures. at the time it didn’t rly strike her how evident it was tht that was bc she was so lonely. she almost always has some sort of sweet on her, whether it’s strawberry laces or gummy bears or cherry lollipops. she adores david bowie n prince n madonna n anyone tht’s a vintage style icon w little care fr what ppl think. wildflowers r her favourites bc they’re the brightest and u can’t buy them. she’s had like 8472493874 ‘relationships’ n none of them hav lasted beyond a month / hav been terrible / hav seen her being treated badly / she’s cheated on them. i dnt think she’s actually been w anyone she hasn’t cheated on in some form or another

plot ideas: exes tht lana’s fucked over hideously. she’d probably cheat a lot and it’d be a whole…mess. mayb someone tht flipped the switch and cheated on her? a cousin plot cld b fun too. a friend tht lana fel out w bc she slept w their significant other. someone tht’s getting lana into drugs?? she’s kind of impressionable/down for anything so tht’s a likely scenario she’d get into tbh. an unrequited crush!! (either way is cool). someone tht is just hanging out w her/using her bc she has a lot of instagram followers or they want to b signed to her dad’s label. someone in a band!! she’d probably make like penny lane n b their groupie/sleep w them all fgjkshgkh. umm a good influence too mayb? oh and a past summer romance/fling tht cld either have meant a lot or not have meant anything at all. bonus points if both of them hav a diff viewpoint on it. honestly?? anything is fine i cld ramble for days

#wshedintro #ok these tws r kind of intense/in abundance bt. all r only rly briefly touched upon / nt explored in detail #hypersexuality tw #abuse tw #ptsd tw #hospitalisation tw #death tw #grief tw #rape tw #statutory rape tw #drugs tw #mental illness tw #addiction tw #assault tw #whew! feel like i jst unloaded an entire moving truck addin those all on there

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mrs-berry · 6 years ago

Text

Phone Call History

Click here to read from chapter 1 on AO3!

Summary: What happens when Marinette sees her phone call history after the Oblivio akuma attack? Knowing Marinette, probably a meltdown of some sort.

Phone Call History Ch. 3 by mrs_berry

Marinette paced around her room restlessly, clutching her hair and ruffling it, making her hair extremely messy—a true reflection of her inner turmoil.

Messy hair, messy heart.

For the umpteenth time, Marinette spun towards her kwami, squeaking out, "A-Adrien is Chat?!" before returning to her endless pacing. It was a rhetorical question at this point as this revelation had already been confirmed as fact by Tikki, who had seen Chat Noir detransform into Adrien Agreste during the Dark Owl akuma attack.

A fact that Marinette was desperately struggling to process.

"Chat Noir is actually Adrien Agreste," she muttered to herself this time, still pacing, and scratching dramatically at her hair again.

Finally, after about half an hour of this, Marinette plopped gracelessly onto her lounge chair, utterly mentally exhausted.

"This must be a dream," she mumbled, eyes glazed.

"Marinette! It's real and it's not a bad thing!" Tikki piped up, floating directly in Marinette's line of sight. She was not about to let her holder regress to denial. Her initial outburst and nervous pacing was more than enough to deal with.

"But, I-I just don't understand..."

"What part?"

"My crush, Adrien. My partner, Chat. They're... one person?" Marinette asked inquisitively, wondering if she somehow misunderstood.

"Yes, they are. And always have been," Tikki assured firmly.

"But Adrien is so kind and reserved, such a good boy. And Chat is... well he is kind, too, but the furthest thing from reserved. He is a flirtatious dork who has a questionable sense of humour. Besides, he's more like a bad boy than a good one, isn't he?"

"Marinette, just think for a moment. You have seen firsthand how sincere Chat's feelings are for Ladybug. For example, the candlelit dinner he planned for Ladybug, who is you by the way, and turning down your civilian self for your superhero self, who he thinks are different people. But if he knew you were the same person, then he—"

"Right... Adrien likes Ladybug. Not me," Marinette whispered, tears welling up in her eyes at the realization, thoughts already beginning to spiral downward, tuning out Tikki's speech.

Tikki noticed and screamed internally. "You are Ladybug!!" Tikki raised her voice. She was not going to let her amazing holder put herself down for a second longer. She was too protective of this wonderful girl, even when she was being ridiculously obtuse. "And you didn't let me finish!"

Marinette dabbed at her teary eyes, reminding herself not to interrupt this time. She knew better than to mess with Tikki when she was serious or seriously annoyed. "Sorry, Tikki, please continue."

"Thank you. Now, as I was saying, if Adrien knew you and Ladybug were the same person, he would be able to openly admit that he feels more than friendship for you. But since he doesn't know, he's forced to lie to himself about his feelings for you as your civilian self to avoid the guilty feelings of loving two people at the same time. Make sense?"

Marinette did not look entirely convinced yet, but she nodded, eager to hear more.

"How do I know he has feelings for you? Well, Chat may be flirty, but he mostly flirts with you, both in and out of your costume. But when he isn't wearing his mask, Adrien acts far less flirty and doesn't really flirt with anyone, and yet, he has flirted with you, Marinette, on several occasions. Do you see the pattern?"

"Wait, what?! W-when has he...?" A blush crept up Marinette's neck as she wracked her brain for when on Earth he could have flirted with her. Surely she would have noticed... wouldn't she?

Tikki shook her head, not at all surprised by Marinette's reaction. She really needed to make this girl see the facts and it seemed the only way, at this point, was to list them.

"He winked at you when he complimented your feather hat. He leaned in awfully close to you and complimented your macarons. He leaned in awfully close to you again when he teased after he found out you had posters of him all over your room. He makes physical contact with you a lot, like patting your shoulder, or holding your hand, or dancing with you at Chloé's party. Based on that loving kiss yesterday, he fell for you during the Oblivio attack when neither of you had your memories, during which you had definitely de-transformed and worked together as your civilian selves, before transforming again later. These are just a small handful of examples. I could go on, but we have other matters to address."

Marinette was stunned and red-faced, with her eyes widened in disbelief. She chewed on her lips as she fondly mulled over those precious memories.

"Marinette, you haven't noticed all of this because you have been too blinded by your crush on him. You've put him on a pedestal and convinced yourself you're not good enough for him, and that there is no way he would ever fall for you. But he has fallen for you—twice, in fact. He is just unaware of his feelings for you, Marinette, because exactly like how you are blinded by your love for him, he is also blinded by his love for Ladybug. But the undeniable truth is that Adrien also loves you, Marinette, and you also love Chat Noir, even if neither of you are ready to admit to it."

Marinette opened and closed her mouth, attempting to push words out of her lips, but only managing to expel air and strangled gasps.

Before Marinette could form words, Tikki continued, "Anyway, Marinette, going back to the topic of Adrien and Chat Noir being the same person. Adrien is more reserved likely due to his image as a model and being the son of Gabriel Agreste. Meanwhile Chat Noir has the freedom to be silly and eccentric because his identity is a secret. But I don't think you even like Adrien for the fact that he is reserved. You fell for his kindness and carefree laughter that time he lent you his umbrella, right?"

Marinette managed a weak nod. Tikki was on a roll and Marinette badly wanted her to continue. It was making an astounding amount of sense and helping her feel much better.

"Another thing you mentioned was sense of humour. Again, Chat Noir has the freedom to make silly jokes and be embarrassing. Adrien likely has to be careful to maintain an image of maturity, for the same reason that he is more reserved. Yet, Adrien has slipped a bad joke here or there. As an example, after the Darkblade akuma, Adrien made the pun, 'What a knightmare,' as he dramatically passed by. It was easy to miss but that was definitely a silly pun that he let loose, even if I was the only one to fully notice it," Tikki explained with a chuckle.

Marinette let out a giggle, too. She really hadn't noticed at the time as she was too busy lying to Chloé about becoming a knight in order to preserve her secret.

"Finally, about Chat Noir being a bad boy... you don't actually believe that, do you? Someone as loyal, protective, and sweet as him—there's no way he's anything but a good boy."

Marinette had to agree. And damn if Tikki wasn't right about everything. Still, if Marinette had her head on straight and used a logical thought process, she would have come to the same conclusions eventually. Probably. But thanks to Tikki, she didn't have to stress and overthink about all of that on her own. Tikki saved her from the anguish and Marinette was once again reminded how lucky she was to have such a thoughtful and loving kwami.

After several quiet minutes of processing and analyzing everything that Tikki had covered in her monologue, Marinette took a deep breath, finally ready to discuss the next course of action.

"Okay, so I know the truth about Chat and Adrien. But what now? Should I still keep my identity a secret from him to try and keep him and Paris as safe as possible?"

Tikki smiled fondly at her responsible chosen. She was so proud of her; even after finding out her crush is now attainable, she was still putting the safety of everyone else first.

Shaking her head, Tikki said, "No, I don't think that is necessary anymore. You will both have to be very careful, though, with the knowledge of such a delicate secret."

"So what? I should just suddenly tell him I'm Ladybug?" Marinette looked apprehensive and yet hopeful.

"You could, though it would be quite a big shock. It might be better if his kwami tells him. However, as that is highly unlikely to happen knowing Plagg, it may be best if he finds out for himself... The boy is as blind as you though, so he would need some help with figuring it out," Tikki said with an air of wisdom. Then again, everything she said was so wise. There was a minor insult thrown in there, but Marinette couldn't find it in herself to be mad, because it really was true that she was painfully oblivious sometimes.

"Then do you think I should try dropping some hints?" Marinette asked.

"It's worth a shot! You should do it," Tikki encouraged. "Tomorrow at school, just muster your Ladybug persona in front of Adrien and he will become putty in your hands, I guarantee it. He loves your courage, wit, and strength of conviction. Once you lay that on him as your civilian self, it shouldn't be too long before he recognizes who his partner really is. And then you two can finally start dating." At least, that is what Tikki dearly hoped. She never wanted to see another one of her holders suffer ever again. She wouldn't allow it.

Marinette blushed at the dating comment. Would it really be as easy as it sounded?

Only one way to find out.

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adorkablephil · 7 years ago

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Fic: Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs

Title: Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs Summary: Dan knows he’s a freak of nature Rating: Teen (for a tiny bit of language) Word Count: 2.5k Author’s Note: This is actually only the first of two related stories I plan to write about an asexual Dan, but I just spontaneously decided to try to quickly finish this one in time for @optimistphan’s Phandom Pride Month Meetup, which starts in a few hours. The second story will be these same characters, but later in their lives, set in the modern day, and I’ll write it when I get a chance. Mostly, I just wanted to put this out there to represent us ace folks at the meetup.

Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs

Dan wasn’t a virgin.

I mean … duh. He had a girlfriend for three years, and everyone knows that teenage boys just want to have sex all the time. It’s all they think about. So, yeah, he had sex with Erin. Plenty of times.

Except that he hadn’t particularly wanted to. All that stuff about raging hormones? Well, that wasn’t Dan’s experience. He liked flirting … but he wasn’t actually interested in following through with anything more substantial.

He sometimes tortured himself by calling himself a “tease,” because really all he wanted was the attention, the heated glances, the knowledge that people thought he was “hot” … but he didn’t want to actually have sex.

And so, to avoid being a tease, he had sex. First with Erin, and then with some random guy at a party, somebody he didn’t even really know, just to try it out and see if his problem was something about girls, if maybe he was just into guys instead.

But it turned out he just wasn’t really into anybody.

And it made him feel like shit. What kind of crappy person actually enjoys getting people riled up, turning people on, without any interest in the rest of it? What kind of asshole posted nearly naked photos of himself on DailyBooth, and liked the idea that some people probably wanked while looking at him, when he actually had no interest in sex whatsoever? What kind of jerk flirted outrageously and very publicly online, where it was safe, where he never had to follow through on any of the implied promises?

When Phil asked him to come to Manchester, asked him to come stay for the weekend, Dan’s heart sank in his chest. They’d been flirting like mad for months, and it had always felt safe and fun, because Dan didn’t actually have to follow through. But now, if Phil wanted to meet, Dan knew he would have to put on the same act he’d used with Erin: pretending to be excited, pretending to be eager, pretending to … well … pretending to want to have sex.

He could get an erection—he even very occasionally masturbated—but he just didn’t feel that heated rush that everyone else seemed to feel, the way it was in movies, the way it was in books. He didn’t feel that need, that … lust. In his psychology class, they’d studied something called “Maslow’s hierarchy of needs,” and the teacher had explained that a human’s most basic needs were food, sleep, shelter, and sex. Dan had been fascinated by the concept of “self-actualization” that was at the top of the hierarchy … but he’d been very aware that apparently he did not feel one of the basic human needs that should be much more important to him.

Sex was a basic human need.

And that was when Dan had known that something was seriously wrong with him.

But he didn’t want Phil to know. So he would … he’d play the role. He’d try to be that naked boy covered in stuffed animals, the one with the eyes at half-mast while he bit his lip. He’d try to be what Phil wanted him to be … what he’d made Phil want him to be.

He was a nervous wreck at the train station, so Phil probably thought he was weird as hell. But Phil just giggled and nearly ran into a lamp post and seemed kind of nervous, so maybe he didn’t mind so much. Things wouldn’t get really bad until they got back to Phil’s house. He’d told Dan his parents would be away, and Dan knew what that meant.

Phil showed him around Manchester, and in most ways it felt really great to be with Phil. Like … someone finally really understood him. But he knew that Phil wouldn’t understand everything. So even while they were riding the Manchester Eye and sipping drinks at Starbucks, Dan was bracing himself for when they got to Phil’s house.

And eventually they did. They rode the bus from Manchester to Rawtenstall, then walked from the station to Phil’s house. They were talking and joking while they walked, sort of laughing and purposely bumping shoulders now and then, and it felt perfect. Flirty and comfortable and fun and exactly what Dan wanted. If the world were perfect, they’d go inside Phil’s house and curl up together on the sofa and just be close, cuddling. Maybe Phil would stroke his hair, or he’d run a hand down Phil’s back. But there wouldn’t be any of the pressure for more, for it to get … well … sexy.

But he knew the world wasn’t perfect.

So when they got inside the house, after Phil had showed him around, Dan nodded that sure, yes, of course he wanted to share Phil’s bed that night. He smiled, and Phil leaned down in the bedroom doorway and kissed him, very softly, and that was nice, actually. Dan liked it. He liked the warmth and closeness, the gentleness and caring.

When the kiss grew more passionate, Dan did his best to play his assigned role in the proceedings, but Phil pulled away almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking into Dan’s eyes with obvious concern.

Dan smiled and laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s probably just nerves. Let’s just … it’s okay. Let’s keep going.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to Phil’s again, running a hand along Phil’s chest. Maybe if he trailed his hand lower, he could get things moving along, and it would be over soon.

But Phil pulled away again, catching Dan’s hand with his own. “Dan, what’s going on? I can tell something’s off.”

Why did Phil have to be so much more perceptive than Erin? Dan cursed silently to himself. He looked down, not meeting Phil’s eyes anymore, and let his hand fall limply from Phil’s grasp. He shrugged uncomfortably. “I guess I’m just not much good at this sort of stuff,” he mumbled, wishing he could just disappear or cease to exist or something.

But Phil gently took Dan’s hand in his and wove their fingers loosely together. “Everything seemed okay before,” Phil prodded. “It seemed like you liked it when I kissed you. I thought … I thought you wanted that.” He sounded hurt now, hurt and confused, and Dan felt guilty as hell.

He pulled his hand out of Phil’s and crossed his arms across his chest. This wasn’t going as planned at all. He wondered if he was going to have to walk back to the train station on his own. He didn’t even know the schedule for trains back to London, and his return ticket…

Phil interrupted his panicky thoughts. “Dan? Please, talk to me. We’re friends, right? Even if there’s nothing else … even if you don’t want anything else … we’re friends. Right?”

Still staring fixedly at the ground with his arms wrapped tight and defensive around his body like a shield, Dan nodded. He felt like a recalcitrant toddler, but he didn’t want to tell Phil the truth, because he’d never told anybody the truth, because he knew then somebody would know he was a freak. And he didn’t want Phil to think he was a freak. He liked Phil. He maybe more than liked Phil. Just … not like that.

“So,” Phil ventured, keeping his distance now, since Dan figured his body language wasn’t particularly inviting at the moment, “we’re friends. Nothing’s going to change that. So … all the flirting and stuff … on Twitter and Skype and stuff … that was just joking around? You just want to be friends?”

Dan sighed heavily, then muttered, “Not exactly.” He looked aside, staring at the base of the doorframe, just for something to look at.

“Dan, please tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is, it’s okay. I promise. I just want to understand.” Phil sounded like the nicest guy on the planet. Dan was a prick to have ever gotten involved in this, in leading him on and making him think Dan was a normal guy…

Gentle fingers brushed Dan’s fringe away from his forehead and Dan startled. Phil had moved closer and was looking down into Dan’s face again. “Could we go sit in the lounge, maybe?” Phil suggested, pulling his hand away again, not pushing. Dan nodded nervously. Could he actually tell Phil? He didn’t think Phil was the sort of person to actually make fun of him … or post about it online. Maybe it would be safe to tell Phil?

The thought of someone else knowing was somehow equally comforting and terrifying.

When they got into the lounge, Dan asked quietly, “Is it okay if we sit together on the sofa, nothing more than that, just … sit together?” and Phil nodded as if it was the most normal request in the world. They sat side by side, and then Dan let his hand slide back into Phil’s, which felt warm and soft and gentle. “I’m probably giving you the wrong impression by doing this,” Dan said miserably, lifting their hands up to show what he meant.

Phil smiled, though, and asked, “Do you like holding my hand?” Dan rolled his eyes and nodded. He’d been the one to initiate it this time, after all. “Well, I like holding your hand, too, so I vote we keep doing it.”

Dan sighed. “Yeah, but … I don’t really want … I mean…”

Phil gave Dan’s hand just the slightest squeeze. “You don’t feel ‘that way’ about me?” He sounded rueful, disappointed but unsurprised.

Dan felt like he owed Phil more than just half-truths. He met those pale eyes directly and explained hesitantly, “I don’t feel that way about … anybody.”

Phil looked confused. “But you had a girlfriend…”

Dan nodded, humiliated. “I … I played along, you know. I mean, guys are supposed to want to have sex, you know, so I … I did. I had sex. I acted like I wanted to … but really … that wasn’t the part I liked.”

Phil’s expression lifted, as if he suddenly saw something beautiful, but that couldn’t be right, because all that was here was Dan, and Dan was saying he didn’t want to have sex, and nobody would think that was beautiful. According to Maslow, he was a fucking freak of nature.

“What do you like?” Phil asked, sounding curious but not demanding. “What would you like?” When Dan began to pull away, Phil rushed to add, “I honestly want to know, Dan. Seriously.”

So Dan sat and thought about it in a way he never really had before, because he’d never really let himself think about it that much, because he’d always been so focused on what he should want instead. “I like … flirting. Feeling like people think I’m attractive, even like I’m sexy…” but he rushed on to add, “but I don’t actually want to have sex with them! I’m the worst kind of tease!”

Phil shook his head. “Forget about what other people want. I want to know about what you want, what you like. I want to know about you, Dan. You’re the one I care about. Just … I don’t know … close your eyes or something. Forget I’m here if that helps. I don’t know. Just … tell me what you like.”

Dan closed his eyes, and that actually did help a little bit, because he felt less exposed. Like a baby playing peek-a-boo … if he couldn’t see Phil then it was like Phil couldn’t see him either. It made it easier to talk. And so he began to ramble. “I like … cuddling … and holding hands…” Phil’s hand squeezed slightly, and Dan squeezed back before continuing. “I like kissing, sometimes, but not always, and … I guess I like it better when it’s like kisses on the cheek or something. Not so much … on the mouth it’s more … I like kissing, but … not like it’s going to lead to sex.” He opened his eyes to look nervously at Phil.

Phil’s fingers were still holding Dan’s, and Phil’s lips looked soft and happy. How could Phil be happy after hearing what a freak show Dan was? “Dan?” Phil asked on a breath.

“Yeah?” Dan barely breathed in response.

“Is it okay if I kiss you, just a little, and you can tell me if you like it?”

Dan bit his lip, then nodded, tensing slightly. He closed his eyes and waited, but was surprised to feel Phil’s hand gently against the side of his head, sliding through strands of his hair. “Is this okay?” Phil whispered, and Dan nodded without opening his eyes.

And then Phil pressed the lightest of kisses on each of Dan’s eyelids, then another to his forehead. Dan felt his body relax, as if he’d been braced for an onslaught that had turned into a caress. Which was pretty much what had happened.

When Dan didn’t feel anything more for a while, he opened his eyes and saw Phil looking at him. “Was that okay?” Dan nodded. “Is there anything else you’d like?”

Dan wondered if he should be honest or not, then decided that he could. He could with Phil. “Could we just … if you put your arms around me … and we could spoon for a while? Just lay together, close, but without…” but Phil was already pulling Dan into his arms, not needing him to finish the thought, scooting and pushing and pulling until they were cozily curled together, Phil’s long legs pressed along the back of Dan’s, Phil’s arms wrapped around him, Phil’s warm breath against his hair and ear.

“Like this?” Phil asked, and Dan nodded again. They lay there together until Dan imagined their hearts beating in unison, hating himself for the cheesy thought. Phil’s voice in the quiet room startled him when he said softly, “You know, this would be a lot more comfortable in a bed…” but before Dan could even begin to tense up Phil was rushing to explain, “not to do anything else, but just because the sofa is kind of narrow and I’m kind of smashed up against the back, and we could cuddle easier in the bed. Not do anything but cuddle. Just cuddle … better.” And Phil huffed out a bit of a laugh, and it sounded nervous. Like maybe he was afraid he was pushing … like maybe he was afraid he was asking too much.

But he wasn’t. That was the important thing. Phil wasn’t asking too much. He was only asking for what Dan wanted … and nobody had ever done that before. Maybe Dan hadn’t given them the chance, because he hadn’t told them how he felt, but he had a feeling that nobody would have understood like Phil anyway. Even if he’d told somebody else, they wouldn’t have reacted like Phil. Because nobody else was like Phil.

So Dan said, “Yeah, okay, let’s go lay in your bed. Just to cuddle.” And they did. For hours. And they held hands. And Dan kissed Phil on the cheek. And they exchanged soft words. And Dan felt truly safe and happy and accepted for the first time. He knew he wasn’t a freak of nature, that there wasn’t any cookie cutter hierarchy of basic human needs, and Whatsisname Maslow could suck it.

The irony of the thought made him snort, and he heard Phil ask behind him, “What’s so funny?” When Dan explained, Phil kissed him soundly on his shoulder through his t-shirt, pulled up the duvet around them like a sheltering cocoon, and held him tight.

***

Author’s Note: To be clear, not all asexual people are the same—there is no cookie cutter sexuality. This is a portrait of a particular asexual character who should not be taken to represent the feelings, needs, or desires of any other asexual person, let alone all of us.

#phanfiction #phanfic #phandom pride month meetup #phandom meetup #tumblr phandom meetup #asexuality #asexual dan #phan #dan and phil #myphanfic

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kabrac · 7 years ago

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A Small Accident/Fluff Month-Goodnight Kisses

Okay so I wrote this along a long period of time, (like 3 months??) but I really like how it turned out, so have this. (Also kinda for fluff month I guess?)

Warnings: Language and horrible akuma I came up with.

—–———————

“Shit,” Marinette cursed, frantically trying to get out of the shower.

Of course there would be a fucking akuma attack while she was in the shower, and of course it would happen on the worst day of her life.

She had confessed her feelings to Adrien, and he had rejected her, saying he was in love with Ladybug. So basically she was competing with a better version of herself.

She groaned drying her hair, she wasn’t even upset about it. She was more angry than anything, how could she beat herself? If they started dating and it got serious, she would have to tell him anyway. Maybe she could just skip the dating part and tell him she was Ladybug?

Wrapping a towel around her body, she yelled for Tikki, there was no time to get dressed, and she would come straight home anyway, it’s not like she was going to detransform in an allyway.

Tikki came to her side, transforming the shy girl, into the confident, amazing Ladybug. The girl jumped out of her room, quickly finding Chat Noir on a near by rooftop.

“Hey Kitty,” she spoke in a monotone voice, clearly upset, and her hair was still wet from her attempted shower.

“Something wrong M'lady?” He asked, a concerned tone laced through his flirty voice.

“Not having the best day,” She made a face like she had tasted something sour, quickly waving it off, “Let’s just get to the akuma.”

“I am Solver, I will solve every problem that is thrown at me, no one should have someone get in the way of my dreams!” The light-pink haired teen laughed evilly, sending problems at people.

~~~

One akuma fight later, Ladybug had found the item that was akumatized, a book that she used to write down problems, tore it, and purified the akuma. All was well when she said ‘miraculous ladybug’ and she could go home now, thank god.

But that was too easy wasn’t it?

Chat grabbed her by the hand, stopping her from leaving. She groaned in response, having a ready mental list for reasons why she had to leave asap.

“My Lady, please, we’ve known each other for over two years now, and I just think it’s finally time we-”

“Look, I’m not having the best day here, and I really need to go, like now,” she said, in a pleading tone.

“But, LB, please, don’t you think we have to right to,” her miraculous beeped, he didn’t even pause, he’s completely serious, shit, “know? What if something happens in your civilian form and you can’t contact me? What if something happens to your kwami?” He began to list a whole page of reasons why they should know, while Ladybug just shook her head.

And, though she hadn’t registered it, her miraculous was about to run out, and when she became aware of that, she started panicking. She could see the bakery. She could see it, she could make it in time if she left now, so she turned back to Chat, to give him some form of excuse.

“Now is really not the time, I have something going on right now I need to take-” Her transformation released, the towel that was wrapped around her blowing slightly upward in the process, but it didn’t matter it was long on her anyways.

She groaned again, preparing her hand to hold the towel in place. She should’ve been more careful, how could she let something like this happen?! The first time Chat knows who she is, and she’s dressed like this?!

“Now you see what I was talking about,” she growled, angry. This whole day seemed to be filled with that emotion. Anger. It was her least favorite. Ironic.

“S-sorry Marinette, I couldn’t hold out any longer,” Tikki apologized to her holder.

“Don’t worry Tikki it’s not your fault, I should’ve been watching my time better, and someone should’ve let me go back home quicker,” she glared at her partner.

“M-Marinette? I-I’m so sorry, why didn’t you tell me you were… indecent,” he gestured to the cloth draped over her body, blushing and stammering in the process.

“Well, what did you want me to say?! ‘Oh I just got out of the shower to transform, and the only form of clothing I have is a towel’?!” She scolded, pinching her nose, “Just take me home please, we’ll talk about it there, I have all sorts of foods, surely I’ll have something to fit your kwami’s needs, and we should probably get some first aid help too,” she mumbled the last part, they both got pretty beat up, Marinette had scratches on her face, and a small gash on her shoulder that went down below her neckline, and another gash on her neck.

He simply nodded his head, scooping her up. He was still dazed from her reveal, and upset with himself for earlier. He had turned down Marinette for her, well Ladybug, who was her. He shook his head, shaking the thought, and put her down in her room.

“What kind of food does your kwami need?” She asked, nonchalantly, like the whole reveal hadn’t even matter to her.

“Camembert.”

“Tikki, do you know where the cheese is down stairs?” She asked, turning towards the small animal.

Tikki nodded, “But what about your parents?”

“They’re gone for the week on some business trip or something, and you know where the cookies are?” She nodded again, flying down the stairs to go get them as Marinette walked into her bathroom, “We’ll talk about it later okay? Can you help me with some of my scratches while we do? I’ll treat yours after of course.”

“Sure,” he said, barely loud enough for her to hear as she turned the shower water back on, and locked the door. He breathed a sigh, his transformation releasing as Plagg was thrown out of his ring.

When Tikki came back, she carried two cookies, and two small wheels of Camembert cheese, setting them down on Marinette’s desk, by her computer, beckoning Plagg to come eat.

He went over to her, starting to munch on the cheese in silence, “So you’re Chat Noir,” Tikki looked over him with critical eyes, “Are you going to let Marinette know who you are?”

“I don’t know,” he spoke quietly, so the aforementioned girl wouldn’t hear him, “I feel really bad about earlier, I mean,” he paused, “I turned her down so I could have a chance with her, or, I guess, Ladybug.” The room fell to silence once more, Tikki looking at him, feeling sorry for the boy.

She could tell he loved Marinette, even before he knew, he was too blinded by his love for Ladybug to realize it though. The small Kwami sighed, young love, every holder she’d ever had the pleasure of being the Kwami of had it. Young love was so sweet and blissful. It almost seemed like a dream.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden stop in water drops hitting the shower floor, and Tikki rushed to get Marinette some more decent clothing than what she planned to wear when she initially got out.

The spotted creature grabbed a thick strapped tank top that Marinette owned featuring Harley Quinn, and some black shorts to go with the same-colored shirt.

When she got into the bathroom Marinette thanked her companion, and rushed to get changed, she had a sports bra, knowing she would have to take off her shirt when they cleaned each other’s wounds, because of the damned cut that went down to her upper breast. She blushed at the thought, it was embarrassing, though, less than an hour ago, he had seen her in nothing but a towel, so it would be better than that at least.

She sighed, putting on the clothes in a hurry, and she hesitated before the doorknob, “Hey, I’m gonna come out, if you don’t want me to see who you are, Tikki can get you a mask I’ve been working on.

She heard a muffled thank you, and the swish of her hurried kwami to get him the mask, she finally opened the door, holding a first aid kit to help their cuts and bruises.

She sat it down, quickly pulling out the antiseptic, and bandages. She glanced over him, he had some blood seeping through his shirt. She sighed, for what felt like the millionth time today, “Take your shirt off,” a small blush covered her porcelain face as she looked anywhere but at him.

"W-What?“ He asked, not sure if he heard her correctly.

"Take your shirt off,” she said it more clearly this time, “You have blood seeping through it, and I can’t get to the cut with fabric over it.”

He blushed, obeying as she looked at the wound, trying so very hard not to think about the place it was.

She pulled a large cotton ball from the first aid box, soaking it in alcohol, “This is gonna sting, but it’s the worst of your cuts, so it’s better to treat it first,” he nodded as she hesitated to put the cotton ball to his skin, eventually she did, and he hissed in pain.

"Sorry,“ her face looked like it pained her slightly to see him in pain. She removed the cotton ball, wiping up the access rubbing alcohol with another cotton ball, and wrapping a bandage around his torso to keep it from bleeding any longer. She moved on to assess the other cuts he had, one on his bicep, and another on his cheek, that was partially covered by her make-shift mask.

She decided to not address that now, it would come later, and if he wanted to take care of it it on his own time, that was fine. She loaded up another cotton ball, and pressed it to the small, but deep, cut in his bicep, he flinched slightly, and she let out a small, "Hold still,” as he did.

"Now, the last one is,“ she paused for a moment, unsure of how he would react, "It’s under the mask I gave you, on your cheek. If you want to treat it on your own, that’s fine, but if you want me to do it,” she took in a sharp breath before continuing, “you’ll have to take off the mask.”

His face drained of color, he didn’t have a first aid kit, she’d have to do it for him. He’d have to take off the mask. Seeing his fearful expression, she quickly interjected, “You can treat mine before we get to it, if you want some time to think about it, it’s a small gash, it should be fine.”

He silently sighed in relief, and nodded, going to pick up the items, he had treated wounds before, it was a simple process. What was not so simple though, the gash on her shoulder, and once she realized what he was thinking, after she saw him staring at the cut for a while, was… she was going to have to take off her shirt.

She sighed, blushing, it was embarrassing, this boy, who she doesn’t know the real name of, was going to see her topless. Tikki wouldn’t be able to help her with it, she couldn’t do it herself, and she certainly couldn’t just leave it be to heal. So she told Chat to look away as she took it off, and when he turned back, he turned a deep shade of red.

She tried her best to act as if it didn’t phase her, but it was impossible, she was also a very deep red.

“Just get it over with already,” she breathed, looking anywhere but his face, “I can’t treat it myself, and Tikki can’t do it either, and I can’t leave it, so just do it quickly,” he nodded, trying to suppress the heat that came to his face.

Once it was over with, they both sighed in relief, and she turned to put on her tank top again. She muttered a, “Thanks,” and moved her hair so he could get the cut on her neck, it wasn’t as bad, so it would be quicker, and less painful.

They sat in silence for a while, not wanting to speak through the awkward moment, until she broke the silence, “Sorry if I seem,” she hesitated, embarrassed at her words, “a bit, moody.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, she knew he meant what caused her to act this way, and she was quick to answer, Tikki didn’t understand her point of view very well.

“I know I mentioned it earlier,” she shifted her position, “I didn’t really have the best day.”

“What happened?” he bit his lip, already knowing the answer.

“I confessed to my crush at school today, and he rejected me,” she had the slightest look of anger on her face, “I’m not sad about it or anything, just… mad, I guess,” she huffed, rolling her eyes at her own foolishness from that day.

“Are… are you mad at him?” He asked, a look of fear covered his tan face.

“No, of course not!” She quickly replied, “It just, he said he had a crush on another girl– Ladybug– how am I supposed to compete with myself? Especially when it’s Ladybug, she’s a better me, a more confident and brave version of myself.”

“I don’t know princess,” he used her civilian pet-name, making her blush slightly, “I think you’re just as great as Ladybug,” he said, hoping to cheer her up.

“You’re not jealous?” She looked absolutely shocked.

“Do you want me to be?” He smirked, making her scowl at him.

“It’s not that! It’s just, well, you’ve been regularly flirting with me for over two years, you can see where my shock comes from,” she explained as if it were obvious.

He simply shrugged in response, finishing off her last cut with a small bandaid, “So the one on my cheek,” he started.

“Can you do it yourself, or do you want me to do it?” She asked, biting her lip, anticipation filling her veins.

“Can you do it?” He asked.

“I can,” she paused, “but do you want me to?”

He nodded his head, hair bouncing ever so slightly, “But the mask,” he reached to touch said item.

“Are you sure you want me to know who you are?” She seemed more unsure of herself, unreasonable in this situation. She had already revealed her identity, “If not, then I can probably cram the cotton ball under the mask.”

She heard the small hum of their Kwamis talking in the background as he answered, “Okay.”

She let out a breath of relief, “Okay, I’ll get to work then.”

She cleaned the cut, slightly lifting the mask to clean the end of it, he hissed in pain, alcohol did do its job, to clean the wound, but it hurt like hell. She muttered an apology, her face scrunched up in slight worry.

“There,” she placed a bandaid over the cut, finishing it off.

There was silence for a while, no banter, only the sound of their breathing could be heard. It was a highly awkward silence.

“I’m sorry,” he spat out, breaking the silence, Marinette jumped in surprise.

“What… what for?” She questioned.

“For, everything, I guess,” he breathed, he was scared that she hated him, “It’s my fault that I know your identity, and I just wanted to apologize.”

“Don’t sweat it, kitty,” she had a smirk on her face, “I just wish it were under different circumstances,” she laughed nervously.

“Me too,” he muttered, embarrassed that he had rejected her earlier, only because he had a crush on her alter ego.

Marinette looked at her clock, “It’s, um, getting late, you should probably head home.”

“Okay,” he bit his lip, he wanted to stay and tell her how sorry he was, and how he just felt so stupid, and kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so badly, that it almost physically hurt. How would he deal with seeing her tomorrow, not that he knew her secret, how would it affect their relationship?

“Hey, Marinette?”

“Yes–” She was cut off by a kiss, and a hand placed on her cheek. A blush could be seen on her face, and she reached to hold his forearm, as if to keep his hand on her face.

And then it hit her– she wanted this. She wanted Chat, she wanted to be with him, and she was too stupidly hooked on her feelings for Adrien to see it. Was she really that stupid? How could she be so obviously in love, but not know it?

The kiss ended all too soon, with him pulling away from a dazed Marinette. She looked in surprise as he jumped away, blinking multiple times to regain her composure.

“I-I’ll see you tomorrow,” she stammered, still slightly confused.

“Y-Yeah,” with that, he disappeared into the night.

“Tikki… did that just happen?” She asked unsure if she was dreaming, or maybe she was half asleep?

The kwami giggle in response, “I think it did Marinette.”

Words: 2868

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svubloods · 7 years ago

Text

Imagine a Barba v Reagan Custody Trial THE INTERLUDE: How We Got Here (TPELB PART EIGHT)

(A/N: Sorry I’m such a slow uploader lately! Trying to be faster! I hope you enjoy this. Trying something new is always fun)

Masterlist with all the parts HERE

THIS IMAGINE IS IN THE THIRD PERSON

Imagine a Barba v Reagan custody trial THE INTERLUDE: How We Got Here

August 20th, 2003

Erika Reagan tapped the last keys of the song before being met by an applause better than she had expected, given that there were only a few patrons in the bar.

It was 2:00 am after all.

But then again there was that one guy. He had slipped in just as you started and she hadn’t noticed until she locked eyes with him while performing. He had almost made her mess up but she composed herself quickly. As she stood up the light shined brightly in her face so she couldn’t see anything. She made her way towards the end of the stage so walk down and standing at the bottom was the man she had seen.

“Let me help you,” He said, giving her his hand so she could use to get down the stairs.

He must have noticed the ‘ridiculous high heels I’m wearing’ she thought to herself as she stepped down and got back onto solid ground. Erika hated the dress code for this place, it was so unlike her to wear such high heels

“Thanks,” She smiled, quickly dusting herself off.

“You were amazing up there,” He complimented, with a slight blush but his eyes bright with confidence.

Erika finally took a proper look at him as she had previously just noticed his beautiful green eyes. He was wearing a suit essentially but without the jacket and he had taken off his tie as well as undone some of the buttons. He was well dressed, yes, but disheveled like he had just gotten off a long days work or had done that then had to drive a long time to get here. Nobody would make the trek to come to a place like this so he clearly had some sort of business in the area and stumbled here for a nightcap. It was strange though she thought, he wasn’t the sort of person who came to a bar like this. She thought about the regulars, mostly old drunkards that drove trucks. Definitely not the sort of person she would expect.

She tried to be suspicious of this stranger but she couldn’t bring herself to feel that way. She was intoxicated by his eyes and his smile was enticing. Very unlike her, she found herself avoiding eye contact with him. She almost felt self-conscious.

“Aw, thank you,” She repeated, “My boss just made get up there because he was fixing the stereo. Didn’t want any silence for our many customers,”

She said it while gesturing to the almost empty bar.

“Well, you were much better than anything on the stereo,” He smiled.

“What if the original was playing?” She countered.

“I preferred your version,” He complimented once again, “Which is a big compliment coming from me…”

“Because your opinion is important for some reason,” She teased with a wink.

“No,” He chuckled, attracted, “Because it’s my favorite song. And obviously, it would have to take a really good performance to say that it beat it,”

“It is?” She asked, surprised.

He nodded.

“It’s mine too,” She said honestly, gaining some confidence.

Both of them did.

“I’m Rafael,” He introduced.

“I’m Rosie,” Erika lied expertly despite almost forget because she was so taken by him, shaking his hand, “I like your name,”   “You do?” He inquired.

“Yeah,” She smiled.

“I like how it sounds and it’s really cute, you know?” She explained badly, she couldn’t describe it accurately, she just liked it.

“Well, hopefully, I live up to your expectations of the name?” He offered awkwardly as he didn’t really know what to say.

“You do,” She reassured with yet another shy smile.

They chatted about Bob Dylan, amongst other things for a few minutes. They had both gotten over the nervousness of approaching and or being approached someone they found attractive and were back to the usual confident selves. They were flirty, playful and curious.

“So why don’t you tell me what someone like you is doing in a place like this?” She questioned, as she had boldly taken his hand in hers and pulled him to a nearby table so they could talk.

“What do you mean by someone like me?” He countered.

“You know,” She insisted, rolling her eyes at his ‘game’.

“No, I really don’t,” He smirked, leaning forward so they were closer together, “So tell me,”

“Smart, well dressed, not a trucker ” She sighed and gave in, “annoying to a certain extent because he won’t admit that he just wants me to compliment him, hand…”

She stopped herself from continuing.

“You were going to say handsome weren’t you?” He accused playfully.

She just played it off.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” He commented.

“Because that’s what every girl wants to hear,” She responded, leaning back as he did.

“What do you want me to say?” He inquired, his eyes glistening up at her.

“Why you’re here?” She smirked.

“I just got in from upstate, well a couple of hours ago. My mom kept me occupied so by the time she let me go it was too late to call up any of my friends so I’m out by myself. Here was the closest place open to my Abuela's house,” He explained.

“Sorry, you had to end up here,” She apologized, taking a glance at the establishment.

“I’m not,” He said.

“I only say that because this is hardly a place that attorneys come to,” She clarified instinctively without thinking.

“Why would you think that I’m an attorney?” He inquired.

“It’s a look,” She excused, cursing herself internally for her slip-up, “I’m good at reading people. You have to in this job,”

“I didn’t think bartenders had to be so observant,” He commented.

“Well, they have to see,” She began before making up something to satisfy him, thinking carefully, thoughtfully and quickly.

Rafael, on the other hand, was barely listening. He was just watching her. She was one of the most beautiful people that he ever saw. Her smile was infectious and her blue eyes were deep and meaningful. He noted that she very gesticulated. Probably more than she realizes he thought. Watching her was captivating. He was just so interested in everything she had to say despite knowing her barely more than an hour.

He hadn’t expected to meet someone like her, especially at this time but he was very welcoming to this change of plans. He thought that he was going to have to spend the night drowning his sorrows in his beer. It was three years since after all. He shrugged it off as much as he could without jerking.

He didn’t want to think about her. He couldn’t change things with her or make things with her. But he could with Rosie he thought. He liked her a lot, more than any of the other girls he had been filling his time with since everything happened. She was electric.

“I never considered that,” He admitted, tuning back in.

“Got to know who to target,” She chuckled.

“Is that what you are doing, right now?” He accused teasingly.

“You approached me,” She reminded.

“You could have taken advantage of the situation,” He suggested.

“Maybe I am,” She winked.

"So what's your story?" He asked, taking a sip of yet another beer one of your coworkers brought to you.

"I don't know what you mean?" Erika replied innocently yet tactfully.

"Do you expect me to believe that you want to be working here?" He elaborated.

"I'm wondering if you would actually feel bad if I said that was what I wanted," She attempted to deflect in a playful manner.

"But it's not so why should I feel bad?" He rebutted, "Who are you, Rosie,"

Erika thought about who she really was.

"I don't know yet," She said with brutal honestly, for a second letting go of the facade, "I'm still figuring it out which is why I work here,”

“Far enough,” He offered, though slightly disappointed, he had always known what he wanted to do and ambitious that it was surprising whenever he met someone who apparently lacked the drive.

The alcohol in his system made it seem like less of an issue, however.

“What about you, Rafael?” She asked in turn, purposely rolling his name off her tongue.

She liked how it sounded and he liked how she said it.

“Well, I work for a corporate firm upstate. We handle mergers, contracts, and business deals,” He listed off in a monotone.

“And you hate it don’t you?” Erika picked up on almost immediately.

“Yes,” He responded, the alcohol making it much easier, to be honest all of a sudden as he made no attempt unlike usually to hide his distaste.

“Why are you doing it then,” She inquired, sipping absent-mindedly, keeping an eye on her ‘boss’ across the room.

“It pays really well and I’m trying to save money.” He sighed, swirling his drink before taking a massive gulp.

“What do you want to do then?” She questioned.

“I want to be the District Attorney,” He said boldly, in a tone which would imply that he didn’t believe it.

“Then go do it,” She said.

“It’s not that easy,” He insisted.

“It could be,” She pointed out, “You’re just making it complicated,”

“Ten more minutes and then you all need to clear off,” A loud voice from behind them called.

They both turned to see who it was. Erika rolled her eyes at the bellowing voice of her ‘boss’. It irritated her to no end. After that, they both realized that they had been talking her a solid two hours as 4:00 am drew closer.

Rafael went to say something when a new song started playing on the stereo. Erika jumped up and grabbed Rafael’s hand. He chuckled after the initial shock.

“I love this song,” She cried, the tipsiness taking over at this point.

“I wouldn’t ever have guessed,” He commented.

“Dance with me?” She asked though she was already dragging him to the dance floor.

“I don’t dance,” He tried to insist.

“Please, I bet you do,” She giggled, “You look like someone whose mother made them go dancing classes,”

“How did…” He went to ask.

“I’m good at reading people, remember?” She whispered into his ear as they took a position on the dance floor.

“Fine,” He gave in, though he was already moving along with her as they danced to song playing. As they danced to the song, the giggled and laughed and just had fun. Rafael wouldn’t ever usually do this but the mix of alcohol, lack of spectators and the right girl made him more carefree than he ever had before. Erika, on the other hand, would have done the same thing even if the whole bar was brimming with people. She didn’t care if people were looking. Rather cliche but life was just too short in her mind. In fact, the both of them secretly thought about how tonight had been the most fun that they had in years.

In the most unexpected place with the most unexpected person.

As the song drew to a close, they had already stopped dancing. They had begun kissing half way through and hadn’t stopped. They did until their time was up and the bar was closing for the night.

“When can I see you again?” Rafael asked as they slipped back out into the real world.

“How about seven tomorrow?” She replied, “This should all be finished by then,”

“You mean work?” He asked.

“Yeah,” She nodded, quickly “Just let me know where you want to go,”

“I will,” He agreed, “Do you want me to walk you home? It is late after all.”

“I can handle myself,” She reassured, “My roommates coming to pick me up,”

“All right, see you tomorrow,” He smiled.

“Tomorrow,” She confirmed.

With that he kissed her again before walking away, leaving her standing outside the bar, waiting. She watched him go, only back when he had disappeared around the corner. She sighed a breath of relief as a blacked out car pulled up in front of her. The window rolled down to reveal Erika’s partner Will Gorski smiling up at her.

“How was work, dear?” He teased as she quickly scrambled into the backseat.

“Not too bad considering I was just there to keep my cover for the past, oh look at that three hours,” She snapped as he began driving.

“Haven’t you always wanted to be a bartender?” He asked.

“No,” She stated as if it was obvious.

“I have,” He grinned, “Ladies love bartenders,”

“You’re disgusting,” She commented.

“Well, think about it this way. By five tomorrow you’ll never see any of those people again and you can stop being Rosie McDonald and go back to being Erika Reagan,”

“Yeah,” She said, breathing out heavily, “It will all be over,”

August 24th, 2003

“So you got any skeletons Barbs?” Erika inquired, as she took a bite of her food.

“What do you mean?” He countered, taking a bit himself of his stake.

“Anything big that I don’t know about you?” She elaborated, “It is our third date after all. I should know all big things by this point.”

“A little early isn’t it?” He posed.

“This is usually the date I decide if I want things to go any further,” She revealed.

“How are my odds?” He inquired.

“Depends on your answer,” She winked.

Rafael looked around the busy restaurant they were sitting in. You had feared that Rosie would be intimidated by a rather upscale place like this but she seemed to fit in seamlessly. A fact which confused him considering the upbringing she had described was very humble, such like his own. But unlike his own, she hadn’t had the opportunity to learn all the stuff he had during his college days at Harvard.

“Like what?” He entertained.

“Have you been divorced?” She asked.

“No,” He said.

“Ever been in prison?” She pressed.

“No,” He chuckled.

“Got any kids?” She questioned.

“Definitely not,” He ensured.

“You sound really sure about that last one,” Erika picked up on.

“I am sure that I don’t have any children.” He stated.

“You may have one and just might not know them,” She suggested.

“Stuff like that doesn’t happen in real life,” He commented.

“Sure it does,” She said, “Much harder for guys to keep trachea than it is for girls,”

“Do you want kids?” He asked rather bluntly.

“Woah! It’s the third date. That’s bit of a heavy question, don’t you think?” Erika played off rather awkwardly and not in her usual confident manner.

“No harm in knowing where your date stands in the important matter,” He shrugged.

“Kids are an important subject to you?” She countered.

“They are to most people,” He insisted.

“Okay, so what’s your view on the matter?” She argued.

“To be honest I don’t know,” He admitted, “I don’t think I do but I don’t know,”

“Well, I do know,” She said rather confidently, “I don’t want kids. I’m just not good with them you know? I’d be a terrible mother plus I’m pretty sure I was born without that motherly instinct thing,”

“Well, I guess we are sort of on the same page then,” Rafael said, “Neither of us wants kids,”

August 27th, 2003

“Come on Rosie, just tell me,” Rafael said.

“No,” She giggled, “It’s embarrassing,”   “So you get me confess all my secrets but you don’t have to tell me any of yours?” He questioned.

“That’s usually how it works,” She chuckled, “Which means I’ll never tell you why I will never tell you why I don’t like spaghetti,”

“But it has nothing to do with the taste?” He insisted on asking.

“Would it matter if it did?” She smirked before they both started laughing.

“So, what’s going on with your bar?” Rafael inquired.

He and Erika were walking down the street, hand in hand, towards her apartment. They had been going on dates every day since they had met a week ago. They were really hitting it off, despite the secrets that were looming over their heads.

“What do you mean?” She countered.

“I went by there today and it was closed,” He said.

The flashback of hauling the boss into the back of a squad car a few hours before hers and Rafaels date flashed in her mind.

“Oh maintenance,” She played off.

“Are you sure?” He went to ask only to be interrupted by Erika, in a moment of panic so she pressed her lips into his.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” She said against his lips, as they had reached the outside of her apartment building.

“Sure,” He said eagerly though he was playing it casually.

She just grabbed his hand and pulled him along inside. The silent understanding between them was clear.

The next morning when Rafael left was the last time either of them would see or talk to each other for a while after that. If you asked either of them the reason why they never reached out again, they would have different answers. If you asked each of them who pulled the silence treatment on the other, they would both give you a different answer.

October 30th, 2003

Erika tapped her foot furiously and quickly on the floor as the time passed. Her older sister Erin paced outside the door. She was speaking as fast as Erika was tapping her foot but Erika wasn’t listening to a word. She was just staring at the clock, waiting.

Three minutes.

“Erin!” Erika snapped before her voice softened, “Just stop talking,”

“What are you going to do?” Erin asked, coming back into the bathroom and dropping by Erika’s side, who was sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

“I don’t know,” She responded, not looking up, “And I don’t have to know until I get the result right? It might be nothing. You might be wrong. I hate to break it to you Erin but that might happen you know? You can’t always be right! Sure you might have been right about me cheating on that test in the with grade and when I dropped out of college and tried to hide to from everyone. But you might not be right about this, okay!”

“Erika,” Erin tried to say.

“No, Erin I just don’t…” Erika began continuing her tirade.

“Times up,” She interrupted, gesturing towards the counter.

“Oh,” Erika let out, getting up and walking over.

She steps were timid and short. As if she was prolonging the time of not knowing despite being so impatient a few minutes ago. She eventually reached the countered and picked up the pregnancy test gingerly.

“So?” Erin prompted after several moments of Erika looking down at the test.

She just shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks as she thrashed the test into her sister's hands.

“Oh sweetie,” Erin said as Erika sank onto the floor her back against the bathtub.

“I’m pregnant,” She sobbed, her head in her hands, “I’m having a baby,”

“Yeah, you are,” Erin confirmed, sitting down beside her and wrapping her arms around her so her baby sister could cry into her chest.

“What am I going to do?” She cried.

“We’ll figure it out,” Erin reassured, soothing her, “We’ll figure it out together.”

“You don’t have a plan?” Erika demanded, still so in shock that she didn’t know how to react.

She didn’t know if she was happy or sad. All she knew was that she was overwhelmed. And all she could do is cry.

“Of course I do,” Erin chuckled, “But we don’t have to talk about that right now if you don’t want to,”

“I don’t,” Erika affirmed.

“Can I ask you something?” Erin said after fifteen minutes of the two of them sitting on the floor, the pregnancy test at their feet.

“Sure,” Erika nodded, pulling herself up and wiping the tears from her face.

“Whose is it?” Erin asked.

Erika paused.

“You do know don’t you?” Erin continued.

“Yes,” She confirmed, annoyed.

“Just checking,” Erin said with fake innocence as they both stood up.

“I have to make a phone-call,” Erika announced, walking into her living room.

“Are you calling the Dad?” Erin asked, hurrying after her.

“Who else?” Erika demanded.

“Hey, I don’t know. You may have been calling your psychic for all I know,” Erin offered, disapprovingly.

“I haven’t seen my psychic in months,” Erika stated, as she tried to find the number on her phone.

“Hold on,” Erin said running to her bag and pulling out a handheld tape recorder.

“What are you doing?” Erika asked.

“Are you dating this guy? Do you think it will last? Do you think he will want to be apart of the babies life? Will he want custody?” She started to question incessantly.

“I don’t know!” Erika responded, “I know we aren’t dating. He was just a…”

“He wasn’t a one night stand was he?” Erin asked.

“I…” Erika went to say.

“Oh, Erika Rosaline Reagan!” She cried.

“God, you sound like mom,” Erika commented.

“How are you going to tell Mom and Dad?” Erin asked.

“Stop asking me questions! Let me do this!” Erika insisted, “Now, why do you have a tape recorder?”

“If this goes to court it’s better to have a record of all communication. Just in case,” Erin explained, “You don’t what might happen. Child Custody cases can get very intense.”

“Alright,” Erika agreed, pulling the ringing phone from her ear and putting it on speaker.

Erin pressed the record button.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

“Hello?” A voice on the under end responded the signal must have been bad as there were cracks but not enough that the message would be distorted.

“Rafael?” Erika questioned, almost nervous.

“Oh hi,” Rafael responded, his surprise evident, “It’s nice to hear from you? How are you?”

“Okay,” She replied shakily, “You?”

“Good,” He said, “Listen, you know I was planning on calling…”

“Rafael, I don’t know how to tell you this,” Erika began all of sudden, she couldn’t keep it in.

Rafael at this point was sitting at his desk work, back upstate. He was working late and he wasn’t expecting any calls. He was about to leave when it rang. Under the assumption that is was a casual call. He continued to pack away his things.

“Okay…” He dragged out, confused, slowing done his packing, “What’s up?”

“I’m pregnant,”

The words hit Rafael's ears. For the first five-seconds, he was silent. Then he opened his desk drawer and searched. Once he found it, he pulled it out and held it in his hands. Opening it up slowly, the memory of the first time he received it washed over. He knew what he had to do and he didn’t like it.

“Rafael?” Erika asked, thinking the connection had been lost or he had been stunned into silence.

“Are you joking?” He countered.

“No, of course not,” Erika refuted, “I wouldn’t lie about something like this,”

“Come on,” He insisted, “Enough is enough. I’m not falling for it!”

“I’m not joking!” Erika insisted, “It’s the truth! I can prove it!”

“Yeah okay, I’m sure you can,” He played off, “Listen I don’t have time for this, okay? You can’t fool me so your little trick failed. So can we just drop this and never speak to each other again?”

“Rafael, I don’t understand,” Erika sighed, her voice softening.

“I do though.This is just your attempt at a money grab, right?” He accused, “It’s pretty obvious,”

“I don’t want your money and how fucking dare you accuse me…” Erika stated.

“How many people have you tried this on?” He countered.

“I don’t know why you are thinking this way but the truth is I’m pregnant and it’s yours so,” Erika stated once again, getting angry at this point.

“Whatever you say,” He entertained, mockingly.

“Why are you acting like this?” Erika demanded.

“Why are you?” Rafael countered, “You could do much more with your life than reducing yourself to this.”

“What the hell is going on?” She demanded.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” He countered.

“I can’t deal with you. How dare you? You don’t even know me,” She began to rant.

“You’re right,” Erika agreed, “And I clearly don’t know you either. I thought you were a decent person,”

“Yeah, let’s debate my decency,” He chuckled, condescendingly.

“You know what I can’t deal with you anymore. So I’m going to hang up but before I do. Just know when you realize that you’re wrong because you will. You will never ever see this kid unless it’s over my dead body. Are we understood? Because I wouldn’t want them to have such an insensitive moronic bastard as a Dad.” She shouted down the line before hanging up angrily.

May 20th, 2004

“See you a bit,” Erika smiled and waved while lying back on the bed as her parents shut the door behind them.

As soon as she did her eyes glanced over the bassinet at the side by the side of her bed. She took a deep breath and got up. She circled the bed and walked towards the bassinet. Stopping and placing her hands on the rim.

She looked down at the contently sleeping baby placed inside. She gently stroked her cheek and bent down so it was at eye level.

“Hi Y/N,” She whispered, careful not to wake her sleeping daughter, “I know it might seem like it is going to be just the two of us but we aren’t alone, I promise. There are so many people that love you so much already. We’re going to be okay. I promise. And even if I’m not you will be. Because my promise to you is that from today on the only job I have is to make sure you are okay. You really the best thing I’ve ever done. I love you so much. I didn’t know what alive felt like until I met you,”

July 24th, 2007

Erika let out a sigh of satisfaction as she leafed through the freshly developed photos of her daughter Y/N’s 3rd birthday party. She had finally gotten them developed after almost two months. She had honestly only did it because her sister Erin had been pressing her for pictures so she could put one on her desk.

Erika was sitting in her partners' car. They were on their way to go question a suspect when her pertained Will had stopped the car to get coffee for the two of them. It was a neighborhood that they never really went to. Will had parked on a residential street a few blocks away from the shop because he couldn’t find a space. The street was empty as everyone presumedly was off working.

She pulled out a picture of her and her daughter. She was holding her as her daughter tried to blow out her candles. Y/N’s eyes were shut in an effort to blow out the candles and Erika was looking at her daughter and chuckling. Neither of them was looking at the camera. Erika made a mental note to thank her younger brother Jamie for always amazing photography.

Erika held the picture up and smiled. Holding it tight in her hand as she looked lovingly at the light of her life.

Then there was a knock on the window. She turned to look, the picture still in her hand. She looked up at the face and went to say something but then the gun was pulled and she stopped dead. Her hand flew to her own but the reactions were slowed of course. She wasn’t fast enough, the confusion of it all playing apart. She didn’t have enough time before it was fired.

The last thing Erika Reagan ever saw was shattering glass and her daughters face.

Blood splatted everywhere and Erika’s lifeless body slumped to the side. She was covered in glass and still in her clenched hand was the now blood splattered photo of her daughter.

Her partner returned five minutes later and officially discovered her body.

“And now back to our main story. This morning an NYPD Detective was found shot dead in her car…”

A few hours later that day, Rafael Barba found himself sitting in a bar, watching the news absent mindedly as he waited.

“Rafael!” A voice from behind said, causing Rafael to turn around just as the picture of Erika Reagan flashed on the screen.

“Sir,” Rafael acknowledged, getting up and shaking his hand.

“I know you’re dying to know so I won’t keep you waiting,” He chuckled, “Let me be the first to say congratulations on the new job.”

“I got the position?” Rafael inquired.

“You did,” He confirmed chuckling, “Welcome to the District Attorneys Office,”

Two Weeks Ago

“Has it affected her?” Rafael inquired, looking out the window and across to his daughter.

Y/N was sitting eating lunch outside with her friends unaware of her Father’s gaze. She seemed happy. Broadly smiling and laughing. They were clearly engaged in some sort of conversation. Rafael couldn’t help but smile at her despite still caring the heavy feelings of guilt that he felt. He was good at hiding his emotions and he got the impression that his daughter was also good at it.

“We have noticed some changes,” Y/N’s principle acknowledged, “She has her version of good days and bad days,”

“What do you mean?” He asked, not taking his eyes off her.

“She doesn’t show her emotions like other people. She’s a very controlled individual. You need to know her well to be able to pick up on how she is feeling.” They recounted.

Rafael bowed his head in guilt.

“Not that I’m suggesting…” They went to rectify.

“It’s okay,” Rafael reassured, “It’s the truth isn’t it,”

“I’m to the belief that it wasn’t your fault though, correct?” They inquired.

“No, it wasn’t my fault,” Rafael confirmed, looking back at his daughter, “Thank you for letting me do this. I don’t really get to see her, this is best I can get.”

“Of course. I can’t imagine going through what you are,” They smiled.

“I’ll head off now. Thank you once again,” Rafael said, feeling overwhelmed he made a quick exit.

He walked down an empty corridor. Turning the corner he was stopped by a young blonde teacher. She was standing there as if she was waiting for him.

“Are you Y/N’s Dad?” She asked immediately.

“Um yes. Who are you?” Rafael questioned.

“I’m her English teacher, Miss Norden,” She introduced, shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Rafael smiled politely.

“I don’t have much time but I wanted to give you this because I heard you were here,” She said handing him a letter.

“What is it?” He asked, opening it up.

“I don’t have time to explain. Just read it. You need it but let me be clear that I’m doing this because I think it’s in Y/N’ best interest,” She explained, “It’s a letter she wrote as a part of some exercise with her therapist. It’s a letter to her mother,”

“How did you get this?” He asked.

“It was an accident,” She said.

And with that, she walked past him and down the corridor as the bell rang and children began filing in. Rafael continued to leave, clutching the letter in his hand as he slid into his car. Once safely in its confines, he read the letter.

It was emotional and personal. Rafael hated himself for reading it. He felt like he was betraying her trust, though it wasn’t like that she had any in him anyway. Though it was the last paragraph that peaked his interest the most.

“I feel so guilty that sometimes I feel like they all look at me and wish it was you instead. Because I know they love me but I sometimes I feel like would rather have you. They miss you so much Mom, so much. I really wish I could miss you like they do but I can’t. I feel disconnected. I hate that sometimes I hate looking like you. Because there are just things I notice. Sometimes Uncle Danny can’t even look at me because I look so much like you and he misses you so much. Sometimes Great Grandpa Henry calls me by your name by accident and looks so sad when he remembers. There are some streets on your old beat where everyone stops and stares at me because you had such an effect on them. They miss you. Everyone misses you. They all want you back.

I just wish I could feel the same way. I just want someone to love me because I’m me and not because I’m your daughter.”

Present Day

The courtroom erupted and the Judge called a recess quickly. Not wanting Y/N, who was sitting on the witness stand see the arguing. The judge gestured for the young girl to be taken back to the witness room while denying the request to be recalled. He wasn’t going to let that poor girl go back on the witness stand after that.

Y/N was directed to the witness room and then left alone.

She took a deep breath. She felt overwhelmed. She hated this feeling and she just needed to get out of here.

She wiped a tear from her cheek and bolted towards the door. She made as far as down the corridor before being stopped by a familiar case.

“I’m so sorry Y/N…”

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