#but idk maybe I could draw something?? or write a little summary for her or do some backstory scenes idk I think that would be fun

[ineed-to-sleep]

Girl we r obssessed

[tsxkkis]

# tsukishima kei - perfect match

a/n: watch me suddenly appear out of nowhere after the school year has finally ended to post something!! i'm sure absolutely no one is surprised that tsukishima is the centre of this fic, but tbh idk how to feel about it (it's definitely longer than my usual ones but i didn't proofread it, so idk if the lenght is an advantage or not) but i hope you'll like it ^^ with school being over for the next two months i'll finally have time to write, so expect more works soon!!

summary: you and tsukishima decide to help your friends get together, but the plan is long forgotten when you realize what your own feelings are.

warnings: nothing really, canon yamayachi (my loves), some light swearing, bad writing

tsukishima kei did not expect any of his friends to bother him in the middle of the night. hell, he didn't even expect any of them to disturb his alone time at all. and yet at exactly 2.34 in the morning, right as he was about to turn off his currently binge watched tv show and go to sleep, he felt his phone buzzing on the nightstand. 

his eyes focused on your name, written in white font on his phone screen, surely shocked by the sight.

'why are you calling me at 2 in the goddamn morni-'

'is yamaguchi interested in anyone?'

your question caught him off-guard even more than the call itself, his brows furrowing in a weirded-out look. 

'if you're asking for yourself, i'm positive that he is not interested.' 

tsukishima heard a sigh of annoyance on the other side of the call and could only imagine the exact look on your face in this very moment. 

'well, thank god, because i'm not asking for myself.' you said. there were muffled sounds of someone preparing food in the background. 'i'm asking for yachi.'

the blonde boy smiled unconsciously.

'he does like her.' the boy stated, turning off his laptop as he put it back on the desk. 'so much so, in fact, that it can be kind of annoying sometimes.'

you squealed with excitement, a giggle leaving your mouth at tsukishima's remark. 

'perfect! now, listen carefully.'

that singular phone call created an alliance between you and kei. an alliance with only one goal; getting your two best friends to finally confess to each other. to both of you, it was almost infuriating how blind they were; how they didn't notice just how obvious it was that they both shared the same feeling. constant blushing at as little as a mention of the other's name, the stolen glances, the very obvious pining - all of it seemed to be non-existent in the eyes of both yamaguchi and yachi.

but lucky for them, you had a plan.

his eyes lingered on you for a few seconds, as if awaiting a sign from you. tsukishima still thought of your 'master plan' as rather silly, but seeing the determination on your face, and the frown that appeared when he called your idea stupid was enough for him to sigh and go with it this once.

the four of you were currently occupied with studying for a math test coming up next week, everyone nose deep in their notebooks. well, everyone except for kei.

the boy cleared his throat almost theatrically, drawing the attention of the three of you.

'yamaguchi, i think i'll have to pass on the movies this weekend.' he said, the tone of his voice as lifeless as ever. 'akiteru insisted that i go to one of his games, so i guess you'll have to take someone else.'

the freckled boy looked a little troubled upon hearing the information. both you and tsukishima were well aware that the tickets to the cinema were already paid for; yamaguchi would definitely be sad if it all went to waste. 

'well, i guess i can ask hina-'

'yachi, didn't you tell me last week that you wanted to go to the movies with someone?' you barged in before the boy could even finish his sentence, your friend freezing in her spot at the mention of a conversation you had not that long ago, cheeks flushed pink at the mere thought of going somewhere with yamaguchi one-on-one. 'maybe you'd fill in for tsukki?' 

the girl glanced at you, panic in her eyes as an awkward silence filled the room, everyone waiting for her to answer. you gave her an encouraging smile, as if trying to non-verbally tell her to go for it, to use this as a chance to get closer to the boy she liked for so long. 

'if yamaguchi doesn't mind...' she mumbled quietly, head turning to face the boy who was already shaking his head. 

'of course i don't.' yamaguchi smiled, his small dimples showing up in the process. 

you glanced over to look at tsukishima, a triumphant smile on your face as if you just won a volleyball tournament. his hair was slightly messy, and his glasses were sliding off his nose, two of the top buttons on his school uniform unbuttoned, showing a bit of his collarbones. surprisingly enough, the blonde boy smiled back; a small, quick smile that your eyes barely noticed. you had no idea what it was, but something about that singular smile made your heart beat faster. 

don't. the main focus of this entire thing is to get yachi and yamaguchi together. not to think of tsukishima and how attractive he looks- 

shit.

developing a crush on tsukishima kei was certainly not part of your plan. 

at first, you tried ignoring it as much as you could, focusing solely on your friends and getting them to date. as time went on and yamaguchi and yachi started getting closer, you almost felt a sense of relief - you could finally stop spending so much time around tsukishima, which made your chances of getting over your stupid crush higher. 

but it wasn't as easy as you thought. tsukishima was intelligent, pretty, and his snarky remarks and judgy personality actually drew you to him even more with each passing day. through the countless conversations and numerous phone calls, he proved himself to be more than just a salty, mean guy that everyone viewed him as.

'soon enough, they won't even need our help.' you mumbled to yourself as you opened your bento box, a smile on your face as you noticed your mom homemade onigiri inside. 'i don't know what i'll do with myself then.'

tsukishima scoffed, closing the textbook in front of him.

'maybe start focusing on your own love life for once.'

'hey! it's not my fault that i'm a good friend.' you stated, mouth full of food, as you looked up at your friend sitting on the opposite side of the table, looking through the tasks assigned for next week. 'besides, it's not like i'm the only one.'

tsukishima adjusted his glasses, looking up at you for a mere second before focusing back on his notebook.

'touché.'

'oh, come on.' you whined out, dissatisfied with the lack of response from the blonde boy. 'you won't miss this even a little bit?'

alright, maybe just a bit-

'no.' tsukishima stated firmly, fixing his posture as he highlighted one of the important sentences written down. you heard a bit of hesitation in his voice, and the few seconds of silence before hearing an answer couldn't help but make you wonder. you decided to ignore it this time - he was focused on something else right now, there was no need to disturb him. 

'do you think yachi will like my outfit?'

tsukishima was sitting at the edge of his best friend's bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone and occasionally looking up to see the twelfth - no, thirteenth shirt that yamaguchi has tried on already. the boy sighed, turning his device off. 

'it's your first official date, i'm sure she doesn't mind what you wear.' he stated, gaining a frown from yamaguchi.

'you didn't answer my question.'

'alright, i think she'll like it.' the blonde haired boy said, reaching out for a bag of chips, opening it with a loud sound. 'but i'm sure she'll focus more on the date itself rather than what you're wearing.'

ever since announcing to their friends that they're going on their first official date, both yamaguchi and yachi were full of stress, constantly overthinking every little detail from their outfit to whether or not the date will go well or not. tsukishima found it rather comical - it was only a date after all. why stress over it so much? he never went on one, obviously, but he always thought that when the day came, he'd approach it calmly.

'do you have any tips on how to not freak out?' yamaguchi asked suddenly, catching his friend off-guard. 'during the date, i mean.'

'how can i know? i've never gone on one.'

the freckled boy looked at tsukishima, a confused expression on his face as he processed his words.

'oh.' he paused for a second, his voice quieter when he continued speaking. 'i thought you and y/n were, you know, a thing.'

huh?

to say tsukishima was shocked was an understatement. he genuinely had no idea what to say; he never even let a thought of you and him being more than friends, 'partners in crime', as you loved to say, slip through his mind. never did it occur to him that someone from the outside would see your relationship as being something more than a merely platonic one. 

well, maybe there was something to it after all. 

yamaguchi's words made him wonder - although he did find you annoying at times, it was only occasionally and to a very little degree. that in itself was very rare in tsukishima's eyes, as he found most of the people surrounding him at least normally annoying. you, on the other hand, were a completely different case. your jokes, no matter how awkward or downright cringe, made him crack a silent laugh more often than not, and every time he saw you smile, his lips uncontrollably curved up into a small, barely noticeable one themselves. 

'oh, no, absolutely not.' the blonde blurted out after a long minute of silence, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of red. 'there is not a single bone in my body that would want to date her. now get up idiot, or you'll be late to your date.'

the moment tsukishima opened his bedroom, after walking his friend to the bus stop, he immediately plopped down on his bed, phone in hand, instinctively opening messages to write to you. surprisingly enough, a message was already waiting for him.

'yachi almost cried because of how stressed she is T-T'

'do you think we should spy on them to make sure it all goes well?'

he found himself smiling at the words on his phone screen, quickly typing back an answer. 

'do you really not have a life of your own?'

'idiot.'

only after a few minutes did he get a response from you.

'can i come over?? i'm bored :33'

a harmless message, one might think. in reality, tsukishima was freaking out at the mere thought of hanging out with you for a reason other than setting up your friends, his cheeks a light shade of pink as his eyes kept digging a hole through his phone. 

you weren't any better than him - hands slightly shaky as you awaited a response for what felt like hours, but was actually just a few minutes. you had no idea what took over you; was it a sudden wave of bravery or rather an idiotic spontaneous choice to ask tsukishima that. but nonetheless, when you finally got the response, you felt ecstatic.

'alright.'

'bring some snacks.'

'kei, i think yamaguchi is he- oh, that's certainly a new face.'

you stood in front of the door with an awkward smile, facing tsukishima's older brother, akiteru, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. to say he was surprised was an understatement - he looked as if he'd seen a ghost. as if a friend that's not yamaguchi coming over to tsukishima's house was so out of the ordinary that it could become a national holiday. 

'come in.' the younger male appeared in the back of the hall, an oversized dinosaur shirt and shorts on. his expression was softer than usual; not until he looked at his brother, whom he gave a sharp stare, signaling him to let you inside and don't make such a fuss about it. 

you sat down on his bed, awkward silence filling up the room. not wanting to make the conversation about your friends as per usual, you slowly realized you don't know what to talk about, trying to think of something, anything, as you began unpacking your bag filled with snacks. 

surprisingly enough, it was tsukishima who spoke up first. 

'wanna watch a movie?' he asked, opening his drawer to pull out two bottles of soda, hidden there so that his brother doesn't devour all of them. 'unless it'll make you even more bored than you were before.'

'well, if you have a boring taste in movies-' 

'says the one who looks like their favorite movie is mamma mia.' tsukishima scoffed under his breath, turning his laptop on and starting to search up movies. you looked at him, a dramatic expression as you pretended to be offended. 

'and you look like you're about to mansplain the godfather to me.' 

a short silence filled the room before you heard the blonde boy let out a short, muffled laugh at your comment. 

'you couldn't be more wrong.' he sat down next to you, a small smile still on his face. 'i found it kind of boring, actually.'

'what do you like, then?'

'horror movies.' tsukishima stated, eyes focused on the screen. 'but tadashi gets easily scared, so i often don't have a chance to watch them.'

'same with me and yachi.' you said, unconsciously scooping a bit closer to the boy as you tried to get a better look at what he was searching up. 'i love them, but yachi jumps at every small scare on the screen. sometimes, she even gets scared when there's nothing happening at all.'

'they really do match each other.' he mumbled, putting the laptop on the bed as he pressed play on a movie he chose. his eyes quickly glanced your way to get a nod of approval on his choice.

'yeah, they do.'

and we could, too.

'are you and tsukishima dating?'

you almost spat out your drink, the words coming out of hinata's mouth catching you so off-guard you were close to choking. 

the three of you, along with kageyama, were currently cleaning up after volleyball practice, the boys racing on who would clean more balls off of the floor.

'no, we're not.' you said in a clearly sad tone with an obvious hint of dissatisfaction in your voice. 'what the hell made you think that way?'

the orange haired boy stopped in his tracks, his signature smile disappearing for a minute as he got lost in his own thoughts. 

'oh! i remember now.' he said after a short while, his grin coming back. 'yamaguchi told me that you two are close.'

'he did also mention that he seems happier around you.' kageyama added, joining the conversation. 'seeing tsukishima happy must be pretty scary.'

not really, you thought. but at the same time, what confused you more was what kageyama said right before. 

he seems happier around you.

yamaguchi has been kei's friend for the longest time, so any of his observations must be true, or at least that's what you liked to believe. but would that mean that tsukishima kei, the salty, closed-off guy whom everyone finds intimidating could possibly like you? was there truly a possibility that he enjoyed spending time with you? 

as you finished cleaning up the hall, saying your goodbyes to your two friends who ran off to practice volleyball somewhere else, a familiar, tall figure appeared in the doorframe, sharp eyes staring at you with an expression that you couldn't exactly decipher. 

'want me to walk you home?' he asked, hands in his pockets. 'it's getting late.'

you looked at him, trying to hide the blush creeping up onto your cheeks before quickly nodding as an answer.

'sure, let's go.'

most of the walk was filled with silence on both parts, exactly as you expected. even though it might've felt awkward for some, you did enjoy his presence in itself enough that a conversation wasn't necessary. 

the boy stopped in his tracks mid-way, reaching into his backpack and pulling out his phone and an old pair of white, wired earphones, showing them to you as a silent question of whether you wanted to listen to music with him or not. you agreed without a second thought, a small smile on your face as he put on one of his playlists. 

'i really like this song.' you mumbled, eyes lighting up upon hearing the familiar melody. with both of you wearing the same set of headphones right now, you were practically forced to walk closer to each other - hands constantly brushing against one another, a faint blush on your face as you tried to ignore it and focus on the music. 

tsukishima, on the other hand, couldn't shake away the thoughts roaming around his head. he felt as if what he was doing now was incredibly unlike him; and maybe it was. but for some reason, he didn't mind being like this around you. less cocky, sarcastic, mean and more... gentle.

he could feel his fingers brushing against yours from time to time, and it drove him crazy. should he go for it and play it off nonchalantly, or just ignore it? should he even make the first move or wait for you to do it?

before he was able to decide, tsukishima felt your hand reaching for his, heart rate immediately speeding up as your fingers shyly intertwined with his, looking the other way to hide your anxious expression.

his hand was much bigger than yours, but somehow it fit perfectly with yours. as if they were created solely to hold one another and nothing else. the plan to get your friends to be together was long forgotten by now - your mind was clouded with thoughts of tsukishima only, and little did you know that his wasn't any different. 

you glanced his way only to find his eyes already on you, hiding his true feelings behind a nonchalant look. only now did you notice that the two of you were standing in front of your house, the boy adjusting his glasses as he waited to see what you'll do next. 

'i guess i should go home now.' you mumbled, but you still didn't move an inch, hand not leaving his. 'see you tomorrow?'

his hand squeezed yours tightly before taking it away, an unusually warm and welcoming smile on his face. 

'sure. see you tomorrow, idiot.'

but as you slowly made your way towards the door, tsukishima couldn't shake away the feeling in him, telling him to go for it. and as much as he tried to resist it, he just couldn't anymore. 

'wait.’

before you could fully turn away, tsukishima kei's lips were already on yours, a sweet, long kiss that felt as if he was waiting to do it for years. his hand traveled to your waist and it didn't take long for you to react; lips moving swiftly with his, noses bumping into one another before you pulled away, a giggle escaping your mouth as you saw just how red tsukishima's face was.

‘don't laugh at me, moron.’ he said, immediately catching the reason for your laughter as he flicked you in the forehead. ‘your whole face is red, too.’

‘i didn't expect you to do this.’ you mumbled, eyes focused on his as you reached to hold his hand again. ‘didn't expect my feelings to be mutual, either.’

‘i'm glad we feel the same.’ his face leaned in closer to yours, a wave of confidence taking over him as he placed a short kiss on your forehead. ‘but i would still prefer to properly ask you out. if you'd say yes, that is.’ 

‘of course i would.’ you smiled, ‘i'd be stupid not to.’

‘should we bet on how long it takes the others to realize we're dating now?’ tsukishima smiled at you, eyes not leaving yours for even a spare second. you laughed at his idea, giving his hand a squeeze. 

‘get ready to lose, kei.’

‘you wish.’

taglist: @moonswolfie

[comet-forgot-you]

heyy idk if you're taking requests, but could you write River x reader where she's more dominant?? and maybe reader is more feminine?? I'm obsessed with River...

ofc bae, kinda hard to write for fem reader bc im more masc, so if this is bad im so sorry :[

remember

dealer!river x fem!reader

summary: river loves leaving you hanging, but she just thinks you’re so hot :(

warnings: 18+ pls, smut, strap use, top!river, orgasm denial, marijuana use, fingering, oral, teasing, river takes a picture, rivers a lil mean. like a lot a little. lots of cursing idk, lmk if theres more! do not repost this work as your own.

a/n: this took me so long to write lol, im sorry anon 😭. i kinda dont like this, i tried im sorry. anyway i kept accidentally writing amber instead of river and i literally don’t know why. enjoy :D

the air of river’s room was humid, the sounds of you panting being the only thing heard over the blaring music of the ongoing party outside of the room was the sounds of your pants and river’s endless remarks.

“gonna cum? already? we haven’t even been here that long,” her strap is bottomed out in you as she whispers the words mockingly in your ear. you whine against her jaw, hips struggling to keep up with the quick pace river had set.

"m' sorry," your words are slurred, thoughts jumbled together, the only thing the actually makes sense in the moment is river.

river chuckles, pulling back to get a better look at you. "what? my cock making you feels so good you can't even speak properly?" she asks mockingly, rolling your nipples between her fingers.

“riv.. please lemme,” your sentence is cut off by a shaky exhale. “lemme cum. please, riv.” a knock comes from the door and you hold back the cry that threatens to escape as river halts her movements and pushes herself off of you.

“what?” she yells, head snapping to the door. she glances down at you, your eyes brimming with tears, hips trying to grind down on the strap still nestled inside of you.

“you have a client,” a voice yells from the other side. river holds your hips down, your head shaking “no”

you knew how this would play out. river would be a huge fucking tease all night, hands crawling up the skirt she picked out, whispering dirty words in your ears, kisses on all the spots she knew drove you insane. you knew that if you didnt cum now, you wouldn’t until everyone left.

“please, river, don’t- fuck,” river’s thrust into you, your own moan cuts your words off.

“i’ll be right there,” she yells back. your eyes widen and river’s lips curl up into a mocking smile. “be a good girl, yeah? get dressed and join the party,” she mumbles. she pulls out of you and you whimper out at the emptiness.

“riv,” you whine her name, hoping to draw her back in. her eyes never leave yours, that stupid smile doesnt leave as she tucks the strap back into her pants.

she leans down, pressing kisses from your thighs to your jaw. “cmon, baby, dont wanna make the customer wait forever now, do we?” she pulls back slightly, her face so close to yours, you want nothing more than to kiss her. she grabs something off of her bed, and once she starts strapping it to your thigh, you know what shes about to ask you. “hold this for me, hmm?” its not really a question, though. you know she’ll tuck the lighter into the thigh garter whether or not you say yes or no.

shes off of you in seconds, heading to the door and looking back at you with that stupid smile. you groan. god was it going to be a long night.

—

river’s endless teasing and “innocent” words had you dripping. the cotton covering your cunt was stuck to your folds. you hated how much of a tease she was. every single movement she made had your head spinning with want.

even now as you sat on the couch, room filled with guards that were there solely to make sure things didnt go south, your legs draped across river’s thighs, she was still teasing you. hands trailing against the soft fat of your thighs, that pit in your stomach had yet to cool down, there was no way you could wait until the end of the night for her to fuck you.

river reaches into her pocket, taking out a small cigarette case she put joints in instead. she looks at you for what feels like the first time since you left her room. “you got a light, baby?” its a dumb question, really. she knew you had one, after all, she was the one who had tucked it into the thigh garter. you nod and river wastes no time sneaking her hand under your skirt to fish the lighter out.

she acts as if there werent eyes on her at all times. she brushes against your clothed cunt and it takes everything in you not to whimper at the feeling. she quickly grabs the lighter before removing her hand and lighting the joint hanging loosely from her lips.

you cant focus on the words she says to the client, only on the movements she makes. the way her jaw flexes as she clenches when the man makes a stupid remark, the way she stares him down like hes nothing, like he cant do anything. everything about her radiates so much power and confidence.

as soon as the guy leaves, you press yourself up against river, hand on her thigh as you lean in to whisper in her ear. “need you s’ bad, mamas. need you t’ fill me up again. please? i’ll be so good i promise.” your words are filthy, but every word was the truth. you knew exactly what buttons to push to make river fold. you knew that if you kissed her jaw, or left marks across her neck, she’d do anything you asked of her. so you did exactly that. holding her jaw with your free hand, you leave a cluster of red marks that would soon bloom to a shade of purple. river grips your thigh, a rush of hear spreading throughout both of your bodies.

“god, y’know just how to rile me up, dont you. so fuckin’ needy.” you smile against her neck.

“cant help it, mamas,” you mumble. the name makes her close her mouth to prevent the groan that threatens to escape. but you feel the vibrations against your lips. she stands, guiding you out of the room, leading you through the crowded hallways to her room.

your back is against the door in an instant, her lips against yours as she tries to undo the belt around her waist with one hand, her other eagerly groping at your tit. you whine at her neediness, it matches your own and your hands fly to the belt to try and help her. your kisses are so messy and hungry, its hard to think about much of anything else. you manage to unbuckle the belt and slide her pants off. she makes quick work of undressing you, guiding the two of you to her bed. her strap pressed against your clothed cunt and your moaning against her lips.

“fuck, river please just,” you groan, arching up into her as her lips attach to your nipple, “jus’ fuck me, mamas please. need you t’ fill me up,” you a whining mess. amber pulls your soaked panties down your legs before parting your legs to look at the mess between your thighs.

“fuck, you’re so fucking wet, y/n. were you that fucking needy for me?” you whine, trying to close your legs, but her hands keep them spread. “nuh-uh, you don’t get to hide it now. not when you begged me to fuck you in front of my guys,” she sounds so mean, you swallow thickly, worried you had genuinely upset her. but the way she wraps her lips around your throbbing clit, you know its not genuine. your moans echo off of the walls, you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your sounds, hyperaware of the crowd of people just outside of the doors.

two of her fingers sink into your cunt, her other hand pulling your hand away from your mouth. “don’t do that, let them all hear how good im fucking you. let em know you’re mine.” she laces her fingers with yours, her lips returning to wrap around your clit. her fingers curl up into your cunt and your fingers lace into her hair.

“fuck, river!” your hips are bucking up into her her warm mouth. “gon’ cum, you feel so good.” she squeezes your hand, and your gushing around her fingers. she’s quick to lap up your juices before standing to tower over you. she presses her fingers against your lips and you take them in your mouth to suck your juices off of them. shes rolling your nipples between her fingers, her strap prodding at your entrance. you buck against it, your cunt sensitive after the orgasm river had just given you.

“need you to fill me up river,” her voice is mocking your previous words. “need you so bad, god im just such a fucking slut i just cant wait for you to fill me up,” her words cause tears to prickle in your eyes. did you really sound like that? were you really that needy? her strap pushes into you, her lips wrapping around the plush of your tits to leave marks that she’d be taking so many pictures of later. the familiar stretch of your cunt has any thoughts of insecurity rushing out of your mind in an instant.

“riv,” you whine out at her slow pace.

“riv,” she mocks in a high pitched voice. “what is it baby? not enough for your needy cunt? need me to be pounding into just to be satisfied?” your eyes roll back as she bottoms out. a tear slides down your face. you cant tell if its from the pleasure or from her words. river had never been this.. mean before. you didnt mind, the pit in your stomach growing with every word.

river’s movements speed up. her strap fills you up so good, hitting spots inside of you that have you seeing stars. her mouth feels so good against your body, her hands keeping your thighs parted. “so fucking pretty,” she groans against your jaw, her breathing heavy against your skin.

“feels s’ good mamas, fuck,” your thighs shake against her hands, the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter with every single move river makes.

“yeah? gonna cum again? so fuckin,” she shudders when your fingers brush against her nipples, “fuck, so fucking needy. this cunt is practically sucking me in, shit,” she exhales sharply against your skin. you can tell she’s close to hitting her own high with the way her thrusts get sloppier and her breathing gets shakier

“fuck, river,” your moans are loud.

“c’mon, cum for me, go on,” your high hits just as river’s does. her strap stuffed so deep inside of you, “did s’ good,” she mumbles against your ear. “so fuckin good, shit,” shes rolling her hips against yours, trying to make both of your highs last a little longer. she lifts herself off of you, admiring the sight beneath her. “fuck,” she groans lowly.

she reaches for her phone off of the night stand, snapping a picture of you in your fucked out state. “so fuckin’ hot, baby.”

[prismuffin]

Could we get some Ethan hunt x old teammates m!Reader, where they have a kinda love/hate relationship yk? Were teammates because maybe the reader did something Ethan and the whole corporation didn't see fit so they went into hiding. But now (speaking of the latest movie) Ethan needs help and since he knows that he can trust the reader he tries to find him. Obviously they meet at some point maybe venice? but only because the reader caught wind of whats going on and also only helping Ethan because he has a grudge against Gabriel. I would like the reader to be more focused on stealth, like the best, no one can detect him, and maybe that also reflects in his fighting style.

Idk i hope you understand, not really good at describing what's going on in my brain

A/n: I totally understand and thanks for answering my call for M:I requests! I hope I did this one justice- also writing fights is hard as shit

Someone He Could Trust

Ethan Hunt x male!reader

( summary: After an old friend reaches out to you for help, you decide to go to a party in Venice )

Warnings?: spoilers for Mission: Impossible Dead Reckoning!! , mentions of guns, violence, fighting, knives, killing, light swearing, mentions of alcohol

!-!more under the cut!-! After all these years, the last thing you expected was a message from him. Ethan Hunt. An old...co-worker...of yours from before 96'. You both used to work together back then, not ever fully trusting one another, though you admit that that's mostly your fault. There were a few times where you may have left him in the dark but only when you knew he could get out of it easily. The last time you had though didn't go so well, a lot of people died and it ended with him being caught. You'd thought he was dead or in jail but time told a different story as you found out he was recruited by the IMF, a government organization that uses the skills of people like you and him to do dirty work behind the scenes.

"I need your help, I need someone I can trust." The message he left you included a file with a picture of a certain key. You'd heard of these things recently, everyone was racing to be the first to get both parts of the key. What exactly it unlocked you're unsure of and judging by the extent of Ethan's research he doesn't either. Though the key wasn't the only thing that caught your attention, a single name had as well. Gabriel. If you remember correctly he should be dead, if he's wrapped up in all of this then it can't be good. Either way, the last thing that lay within the file is a single invitation to a club in Venice Italy. Smirking, you stood, a party doesn't sound like a bad idea.

After a quick flight, you landed in Venice around 11pm, heading to one of the many canals in Italy you entered a boat that rowed you down to a hole in the wall building, the neon lights and loud music shaking the walls around you as you stepped out the boat, letting yourself get frisked before going inside. Entering the party, you straightened your tux as you scanned your surroundings, people danced on display like art as guests around them talked and drank. It was casual and not at the same time. Moving around the crowd of people you walked closer to the bar only to stop as you recognized a certain bearded man. Gabriel. He was older now, obviously, and he stood close to a woman you didn't recognize. You went just close enough to hear them, turning to not draw attention to yourself as you listened in on their conversation. "I don't have it on me," the woman spoke, ah so she was wrapped up in all of this. "I wouldn't expect you to," Gabriel spoke after her, "In any case, I'm not here for the key." 'He's not? Well, that's a contradiction,' you thought to yourself as you watched him turn his back to the bar, you moved to not be in his direct line of sight. "What do you want?" the woman asked though Gabriel seemed to dodge the question. "Suppose while we're waiting I tell you a little story," "You're obviously not the person I came here to meet." The woman said before deciding to walk away but stopped as Gabriel spoke again. "it's your story, Grace," So Grace was her name, "I know how it ends, let me buy you a drink and perhaps we can change it." Though you felt the urge to help this woman she's not who you came here for. Speaking of who you came for, looking near the entrance you saw him with a woman you'd seen before, though only briefly. British intelligence? You're pretty sure, or at least she used to be. Too bad you can't exactly remember her name. You moved again as they fully entered the party before getting stopped by someone who they then followed. Directing your attention back onto Gabriel and the woman you heard Gabriel telling her more about Ethan, though the way he was putting it made Ethan seem like this master manipulator to every woman he ever came across. You clenched your jaw as his story continued, he made it seem like it was Ethan's fault for the death of Marie when it was really he who'd killed her. "Grace," You were shocked to see Ethan just casually walk up to them both, he glanced over, noticing you and you winked before you quickly moved, preferring to offer him backup in the shadows if and when he needed it. You watched as they all talked before the white widow, or Alana as you know her, came over and decided to bring them all upstairs to talk. You'd crossed paths with her before but even then you doubt you'd be able to randomly convince her to let you follow them all the way upstairs. Still, you tailed them until you couldn't, deciding to linger until a fight broke out.

"Let's fan out, Hunt's here somewhere," You perked up at those words as you turned to notice two men, they nodded at each other before attempting to blend in. But to you, they stood out like a sore thumb. You were conflicted about staying near Hunt but knew he could at least handle himself against people he knew were threats. To you, these two were unknown threats that he'd unknowingly have to counter eventually. Taking them out now would be ideal you thought and so you followed them. If they moved far enough from Hunt then they wouldn't be a problem at all and you could return to him.

-

Tailing them didn't last too long, the venue was rather large and it didn't take them long to get far from Ethan. You walked back inconspicuously before stopping as you noticed a few guards run past you towards Ethans location. They ran up the stairs and you watched as Ethan jumped from the railing, spooking the patrons as he ran through the crowd. Following after him as quickly as you could without drawing as much attention to yourself you found him saving that girl from earlier, Grace, from two men. Fighting them off as best he could as she ran. He called out to her but she didn't come back to help, scoffing you pulled out two sai's from your person. Wasting no time you jumped on the back of one guy, putting a quick end to his life before you turned, narrowly missing Ethan's head as you plunged one of your sai's into the eye of the second guard. Ethan stood, watching as you removed your weapon, flicking the blood off. "Long time no see huh?" You said, watching the slightly out of breath Ethan tilt his head briefly as he nodded. "Yeah well," he shrugged before looking past you, seeing Grace's retreating form he moved to follow her only to stop and do a double take near the grounds. You peeked, noticing the two guys from earlier, they noticed Ethan before running to stop him, was everyone really after this guy? "I'll deal with them, you go after her," You said and he nodded. "There's a safe-house, third floor, south of Minich Bridge, my teams waiting there!" He yelled to you as he began running and you nodded, preparing yourself for the company of the two men.

Hiding beside the entrance to the corridor you were just in you waited for them to run in. The older white guy ran in first followed by his younger partner, who you went for first, hitting him hard with the back of your sai. He fell quick and quiet, though not quiet enough as the older guy seemed to notice immediately. He turned quickly, pointing his gun at you and firing off a few shots though you threw down a smoke bomb of sorts, blinding the man. You waited, moving slowly behind his person to strike again though he had anticipated your attack, blocking you last second though not before you were able to knock the gun out of his hand. He was strong and well-trained but you've taken down men bigger than him. He threw a few punches that you'd dodged before countering, causing him to stagger as the smoke started to dissipate. Kicking him, he flew off to the side, hitting the railing of the balcony. Grabbing your sai's again you were ready to finish the job, pulling your arm back to ready yourself for your attack you were suddenly pushed from behind. You hit the railing, your Sai's falling out your hand. "Shit," you were quick to turn, kicking the younger guy down, how he got back up that fast you were unsure.

Moving quickly you fought the younger guy off, not forgetting about your older opponent who had recovered from his initial fall. You threw a punch at the younger guy who'd blocked it but you'd countered quicker than he thought. Punching him in his throat he fell to the floor struggling to breathe, giving you enough time to turn and kick the older guy in his knee, knocking him down as you used your leg and wrapped it around his throat, effectively knocking you both to the ground as you choked him out with the strength of your thighs. He punched your side but you held out long enough for him to stop struggling. As soon as he was unconscious you moved to knock out the young guy again who had weakly put his fists up to fight back. Smirking you hummed, "What a shame, you're kinda cute." He charged at you and you sidestepped him. He turned quickly just in time to get kicked in the chest making him fall on his back. Some might say you should never kick someone when they're already down but you say that's the perfect time to strike. Delivering one final kick to his head, you knocked the consciousness out of his body.

Sighing you looked at the two unconscious bodies before stretching, "Finally." You moved to grab the guns that had since been forgotten in the hand-to-hand combat that just ensued before leaving the way Ethan did. You doubt you'd catch up to him now so it was better to just try and find that safe-house he'd told you about.

-

Finding the bridge Ethan told you about wasn't hard though you were more than shocked to find Ethan there, above a woman who was now dead. Grace stood behind him, unsure of what to do. "Ethan?" you walked up the bridge, but his eyes never left the woman. "She's.." he muttered, not finishing his sentence. Looking at the woman you recognized her from earlier she was that former British Intelligence agent whose name you didn't even remember. Now though it's clear that she meant a lot to Ethan. Kneeling down to his level you hesitantly placed a hand on his back. "I'm sorry Ethan," Hearing a boat come down the canal you were quick to remove your suit jacket, delicately placing it over her as the boat neared.

Ethan stood, still looking down at the body before ripping his eyes away from the scene. You placed your hand on his back again, shocked when he leaned into your touch. "I'm sorry," Grace spoke up but Ethan quickly shut her down. "No, it's not your fault. It's Gabriel's." He stated matter-of-factly, anger dripping from his tone. The boat finally neared and stopped making both you and Ethan look up. "Benji," Ethan said, referring to the man driving the boat. "He's on our side?" You asked and Ethan nodded. The man now known as Benji seemed relieved that Ethan was ok but confused at your presence. "I'll explain who he is later, right now...let's just get back to the safe-house...I need to think," Ethan spoke to Benji who nodded before he urged Grace onto the boat. Hopping over the railing yourself you landed with a huff onto the speedboat, sitting in the tight space before Ethan sat next to you. He held a somber expression on his face as Benji turned the boat around. Bumping him with your shoulder, you offered him a smile, "We'll make him pay for this Ethan. I promise." You whispered and Ethan looked at you. You both gave each other a determined nod at the mutual agreement and he offered you a brief smile, but it quickly fell again One way or another you were going to find Gabriel and kill him.

----!----

( I despise writing fights )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are CLOSED !!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

Masterlist

[buckets-and-trees]

These Hands Had To

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: alpha!Joaquin Torres x female!omega!Reader Word Count: 963 Summary: After their first mission, Torres told Sam Wilson that people who said things were better during The Blip were wrong, and even though so many things have changed since the snap that reversed The Blip, he still firmly believes that. However, there was the emergence a rumor - possibly a reality - that was the stuff of folklore and fiction: a biological hierarchy of alphas and omegas determining new contexts for human interaction. It's Joaquin's job to sort and sift through the chatter of rumors, conspiracies, and whispers, and sort out what's plausible, but this...

Content Warnings: omegaverse, brief strong language, fluff to smut (abrupt SMUTTY SMUT, p in v penetration)

Additional Notes: Written for the week three 'Something New' challenge for @the-slumberparty to try a trope I've never written before. I was struck with a big want to write something for Torres because he really doesn't get enough love, and then one thing led to another and I knew I wanted to throw him into an Alpha/Omega situationship, and I had ideas for their meeting and also ... their mating, but my brain also got flooded with the WHAT IF idea of what if when the Avengers snapped everyone back into existence, they also triggered an omegaverse that was slowly but surely manifesting among the world population? because... why not start entertaining that what if? idk. if this lands, I think there's room for a lot more, but... no promises. Title inspo from our lord and savior Taylor Swift. Also, bonus trope I've never tried before: a "how it started/how it's going" fic.

A/N 2: Also a meet cute vote for @thestanceyg Trope Madness 2023.

HOW IT STARTED

Joaquin’s head snapped up.

There was a faint scent, but it was distinct – floral and a little something else, and it was there, pulling at something in his chest, his lungs yearning for more of it.

But he remained absolutely still as you smiled politely, stepped into the elevator, hit the button for the forty-seventh floor, and stood off to the right side of the elevator as the doors slid closed.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He’d read about this maybe two months ago. Reports and rumors of biological shifts, primal manifestations. Unpredictable, but undeniable once they manifested. The information was limited because it was an unprecedented phenomenon that seemed beyond belief, and almost equally becoming feared or glorified as it emerged across the globe.

And why was his brain hyper focused on the theories when you’re now in an elevator with him and in a matter of moments you’ll part ways?

What was on level forty-seven? Had he been to that floor before?

He was a naturally friendly and reasonably intelligent human, why couldn’t he form words? What was happening?

He didn’t need to flirt, he just needed to say something.

He turned his frame slightly towards you and “What’s on forty-seven?” tumbles out of his mouth.

“Oh, I’m not sure, first-time meeting with a potential client for me.”

“Who are you meeting with?”

“Strictly confidential,” she retorted, turning her face up to look at him, a coy smirk already on her face, but when her eyes met his, the draw was palpable, and he knew she could sense it, too, because her jaw dropped for half a moment before she blinked and then looked ahead again.

“What about you? Are you a regular?” she asked.

He smiled but looked ahead as well. He was glad she didn’t want to let the silence linger after that moment. “Semi-regular. I’ve been doing some consulting.”

He watched the floor count continue to rise, quickly approaching the forties.

“What’s your line of expertise?”

“Intelligence,” he replied.

And then she laughed, but it was warm. “That’s almost as vague as my ‘confidential.’”

He joined her laughter. “It’s the veritable truth. Cross my heart.”

“Your heart?” Her head inclined toward him again, and he mirrored that small side glance.

“Mhmm,” he hummed.

The elevator suddenly jolted and paused, the lights flickering, and they both reached out to steady themselves, resulting in each throwing an arm towards a wall and to each other.

But it was only half a second and then the lift continued its smooth ascent.

But he was now closer to you, and you locked eyes again. Joaquin slowly moved his fingers down your forearm, keeping his eyes on yours, and then lifted your wrist up. It seemed instinctual, natural to want to draw your wrist close and truly take in your scent. But he did so cautiously, he knew he wanted to do this, but he wasn’t sure if it was too forward for a connection like this. Softly, he pressed his nose to that tender pulse point and inhaled.

You chirped, which seemed to shock even you, as your eyes grew big, and you covered your mouth with your other hand.

But you didn’t withdraw your hand from his grasp, and your scent now was easy for him to identify – floral with a hint of citrus, warm. His heart swelled in his chest.

Then the elevator dinged, and the spell broke. You took your hand back and stepped out of the doors as they opened.

“Good luck with the meeting,” he called out to you disappeared and the doors closed.

Then he hit the wall of the elevator, cursing that in that final moment he hadn’t even thought to ask for your name or tell you his. His mind started racing through possibilities because that was clearly an Alpha and Omega moment and he needed to see you again.

HOW IT’S GOING

You were naked in his arms, straddling his lap, your breasts pressed against his chest, while he rubbed each of his wrists over your cheeks, causing you to whimper, overwhelmed by this act of scenting you yet needing more of his intoxicating smell at the same time. You rocked down against his erection, causing him to growl into the kiss you shared. A moment later, he had you on your back, looming above you, the powerful alpha showing his dominance, yet watching your face, eager to prove he would not subjugate you, but instead worship you. He did not want to merely claim you, he wanted to pledge himself to you but with the understanding that you give yourself in return.

“Are you sure? I want you with everything in my being, but not until you are ready to give me your body, your heart, and your soul, Omega, it has to be all or nothing.”

Looking into his eyes, the fire in them was so fervent, you didn’t hesitate. “I’m already yours, Alpha, please.”

“Say it again,” his voice was low, but every one of your senses was fully focused on him in this moment, as he guided his cock over your folds, only stoking the desperate fire your felt for him in your core.

“I’m yours, Alpha.”

“Mine,” he echoed, and plunged in with one powerful thrust, filling you completely, knocking the air out of your lungs.

You gasped and clung to his shoulders, a sob escaping you.

He brought his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed the corner of your mouth. “So good for me, Omega, how does it feel?”

You canted your hips, wanting him to move.

His hand moved quickly to your hip instead, stilling your movements.

“Use your words, Omega. How does it feel to finally have my cock inside your tight cunt?”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Sickness Excuse

Pairings: Weems x Thornhill x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.2K

Summary: You used the excuse you were sick one too many times with Principle weems so what happens now your actually sick and can't leave class?

TW: Vomit (I think that’s it idk)

A/n do I ever write fics without someone throwing up?

PART 2

It was the middle of outcast history, the most boring of all your classes and you still were feeling awful. Your stomach had been unsettled for what felt like far too long. It would knot and then go loose before tying itself up again. With each knot the nausea would build but weems already had her eye on you for the amount of history classes you had skipped, and you were running out of excuses. You knew if you skipped and got caught you were in for it. Especially when you used the sick excuse last week and you had no proof of actually being sick. No fever. Yet. Just that uncomfortable pain in your stomach.

The teacher was an old wolf named Terrbine Fleetsted who honestly looked like he was napping and based off the way his little white musta he was moving with the slow rise and fall of his chest you looked to be right. Trying to be as subtle as possible you rested your head on the desk somehow feeling worse. Enid was sat next to you pretending to be working but really, she was writing down some gossip for her blog she had heard in the quad on the way to class. She was rambling about something, and you had honestly stopped listening or paying attention. Your eyes were closed which was probably why when she jabbed you with her pen you jumped a mile.

“Jesus tap dancing Christ enid!” You almost yelled and enid shot you an odd look.

“Dude, have you listened to anything I’ve been saying?” She said with a fake huff. You knew she wasn’t mad the way her eyebrows were twitching she was merely concerned.

“‘M fine ‘nid” you mumbled going to rest your head back on your arm.

“You don’t look too great, maybe you should go lie down.”

“Gee thanks. And i can't weems would probably go dark ages on my ass and burn me at the stake if i miss anymore of this boring ass class.” You said into your elbow.

“Weems can’t be mad for you being sick?” She said sounding confused.

“She won’t believe me. Used the old sickness excuse one too many times.”

“What excuse?” Enid said and before you could answer your stomach knotted painfully and you knew you were going to be sick. Spit pooled in your mouth and you knew exactly what was coming. You jumped up from your chair drawing eyes around the room, yet the teacher stayed asleep. Like a bullet you shot from the room and raced through the halls. Sprinting into the nearest bathroom you could find you dropped to your knees and locked the door before pouring out the contents of your stomach into the toilet. Had you been further than a mere inch from death (as you put it) you may have noticed Enid’s panting breathing coming from behind the door. She knocked rapidly and you barely made out the sound of her yelling something.

“Y/N LET ME IN RIGHT NOW.” She yelled and after a minute you heard nothing. Maybe she gave up? After the small reprieve you rested your back against the stall hearing the door open again. Dammit who was it this time. You heard the distinct clicking of heels and you automatically straightened your spine. Your stomach however revolted at this action and sent you pitching forward into the porcelain again. You gagged and tears stung your eyes as you brought up more of your stomach acid. It burned and you hated every last second of it.

“Honey whats going on in there? can you let us in please?” A voice asked which you faintly recognised as Ms Thornhill. What was she doing here? You simply whimpered and then heard the heels again and watched exhaustedly as the lock on the door turned from the outside. Two faces peered into the stall, and you simply looked at them and blinked, too tired for words. Principle weems and Ms Thornhill stood looking at you for a second before Thornhill quickly came over to you. She gently grabbed your cheek and laid her other hand on your brow to check for a fever.

“Darling are you ok? What prompted this?” Weems asked from where she was observing at the door. Enid had seemingly gone back to class, and you mentally thanked her for not seeing you like this.

You simply sighed and lent over to flush the toilet.

“Honey did you throw up?” Thornhill asked and you nodded weakly.

“Oh darling.” Weems said softly. “Why didn’t you leave class earlier.” She said and you shrugged not wanting to admit you felt you couldn’t. The principle frowned and you closed your eyes and rested your head against the wall.

“Bring her to my office, the nurse went home sick and i have some training in this kind of thing.” Principle weems said and Ms Thornhill nodded. The head mistress swapped spots with Ms Thornhill inside the stall, and she gently scooped you up from the ground and into her arms. You weakly rested your head against her collar bone and closed your eyes.

“Do you feel you may be sick again?” Principle weems asked and sighed softly as she felt you nod into her neck. She motioned for Ms Thornhill to follow, and she grabbed the small black bin from under the sink before trailing after the principle out of the bathroom. You thanked the high heavens nobody saw you being carried like a baby by your principle through the halls but overall, you were too exhausted to care.

You must have been dozing lightly because you felt weems adjusted you and open the door to her office and soon you were being gently lowered to the couch. Ms Thornhill set down the bin beside the bed which was luckily empty. Weems tucked a blanket around you and slipped a thermometer under your tongue. You were too tired to protest and simply hummed and closed your eyes.

You felt a hand brushing the hair from your eyes and back away from your face.

“Ms L/n how do you feel now?” Weems asked and you nodded which was met with a chuckle.

“Honey that doesn’t tell me much.” The principle said and Ms Thornhill smiled sadly down at you. You let out a low dejected hum and Weems frowned.

“Bad huh?” She said and you nodded again, and she removed the thermometer.

“101.2 did you eat something odd?” She asked frowning at the stick.

“No i don’t think so. Just…”

“Just what?” Ms Thornhill prompted.

“Just a coffee from the weathervane and something from the new bakery in Jericho. I dunno it tasted slightly odd I guess.” You mumbled and the principle looked at you sadly.

“Oh darling.” She said. “I’ll be sure to follow up on that. But right now, get some rest and I’ll wake you up a bit later for some medicine when you’ve settled some more.” She said and gently drew circles on your stomach. You hummed in agreement and shuffled around a bit to get comfy which made both teacher's chuckle. Once you had deemed yourself safe and comfy enough to fall asleep your breathing evened out and you knew you would be well looked after.

MASTERLIST

[incomingalbatross]

Finished my first week (I don't go in on Fridays) of Commute Listening! (Plus a day technically because I did have to go in last Saturday.)

Here's the summary of the undertaking so far...and of just how much car/public transit time I've logged:

Bach's Brandenburg Concertos 1-6 My beloveds--the only classical music that IS for sure on my faves list, because in the period when I had a CD player in my bedroom and about three CDs, these were two of them. Still not sure how well I could identify them, but I recognized them once they started playing and greatly enjoyed them.

Artifexian podcast ep 1. Interesting! All about worldbuilding. Just far enough removed from my own interests (yes I love fantasy, no I don't enjoy worldbuilding, it took me years to process that) that I can listen as, like, a spectator, but also listening to two people who do love worldbuilding makes me feel more positive about it. Like the energy.

Several Masses by Haydn (St. Cecilia, Mass in B flat, Mass in honor of the Blessed Virgin). Beautiful, obviously, but... did not grab me. Might just be that Masses and commuting are not the right combination. Might be my chant-inclined mind going "you're drawing out the words too much." Idk.

Art of Manliness ep 1, about Easy Company. INteresting and informative—a window into a subject I wouldn't have sought out on my own.

Out Alive ep 1. About a skier buried in an avalanche! Again, not something I would have sought out myself, but hearing the skier and the other people involved talk about the impact of a crisis situation and near-death experience, without any polish or dramatization... oof. Really interesting.

Reply All Billed as a "podcast about the internet," the first ep was about a social situation enabled by the internet. Also interesting as a window into someone else's personal experience that I don't think you'd quite get in any other medium than this unpolished interview format. This time about relationships instead of death, though.

In the Wind (album) by Peter, Paul and Mary. Branching aside from classical for some folk, since I was in the headspace for something between podcasts and instrumentals. Good! I recognized several of the songs but definitely not all. They also reminded me of several other country and folk artists I could listen to if I want to keep going down that road, in addition to listening to more of their work.

Vivaldi Concertos for Diverse Instruments GOOD. I loved these! They got stuck in my head afterward! Definitely want to try more Vivaldi. Also reinforcing my theory that any kind of music is good music if it involves violins going wild.

Mozart Violin Concertos 3-5 ALSO very very good. And I think I could hear the cleaner/plainer sound of Mozart as opposed to the baroque I'd just been listening to.

My Writing Sucks podcast ep 1, in which an author lovingly roasts her 14-year-old self's writing. Very fun. Endearing. Kinda makes me want to pull out my oldest, worst writing and approach it from an outside perspective, which I think would be Growth if my fragile ego could actually follow through on that. :P Maybe after a few more episodes of this.

Pints With Aquinas episode 1. This is an introductory episode giving background on Aquinas, as opposed to later episodes which will have more actual theology. Already good, though. Little harder for me to stay focused than some of the more fun ones, but I'll be coming back.

Classics for Kids Short and educational segment about classical music. Definitely told me things I don't know! A little short and a little flat in delivery for my needs, but good stuff.

Stuff You Missed in History Class ep 1. Interesting, but same issue as the above—it was just short. I need to check if episode length varies, and if they're all short I might load up six or so at once to give it a better trial. It was interesting but I couldn't get much flavor from one segment.

In conclusion, this project is definitely a success so far. I've been enjoying my commutes even when there's traffic, and I feel like I'm taking in things that I enjoy and are constructive in some way! It's fun for me. And I have a bunch of podcasts in store for next week that I haven't even touched yet.

[luluboobird]

Hello!

About the writing prompts, maybe you could write the bitter soulmates (in the 1st masterlist), ennemi to lovers (part 3- tbh those two prompts could go together) or the height difference (in the part 2); that one would be quite funny; idk if there is one you like amongst these

I love your work 💜💜💜

Hey :) First off, thank you so much for the saying that and I'm really glad you enjoy my work! (Seriously, like thank you so much for saying that!!!)

Second, those first two prompts were looking despicably angsty in my notes, so I'm really hoping I can get back to them soon. I did however manage to write a little something using the third prompt. I'll admit, I typed it on my phone and proofed it on my laptop when I had free time today, but I already posted it on AO3 and please let me know if you want me to gift it to your there profile because I will do so happily!

Hope you enjoy! 💜💜💜

~~~~

5 Times Height Mattered (And The One Time It Didn't)

Available on AO3

Word Count: 4,700

Summary: The one where despite Leonora's claims to the contrary, Clarissa is a woman of average height.

~~~

(1)

It’s not that Clarissa is vertically challenged. In fact, she stands a nice average 5’4. 5’6 in her favorite pair of heels.

So why is Lady Lesso hellbent on making her feel short?

From nearly the moment they met, the woman was highlighting the differences in their height with a haughty smirk.

In fact, during their very first conversation, Leonora had asked her a question so rude, so childish, that Clarissa immediately began to doubt her sanity.

The summer heat was waning, yet the sun was high in the sky. Clarissa stood in the garden wearing a golden dress. Why this is important you may ask?

Because it was here that she met Lady Lesso for the first time. Tall with red hair that glowed fiercely in the sunlight, beautiful with a confidence in her posture that would be nearly impossible to replicate. Clarissa had shaken away her nerves, introducing herself to the woman with a pleasant smile. Lady Lesso had stared for a second before doing the same. For a fleeting second Clarissa could have sworn that the woman smiled back, a natural genuine smile, not a smirk or a haughty grin. 

It’s gone as fast as Clarissa can blink. No doubt a trick of the light, because within the next few seconds, Leonora crushes any errant positive thought Clarissa might have made the mistake of drawing up about the woman.

Lady Lesso had looked her over curiously, pursing her lips and tilting her head before saying something that made Clarissa’s jaw drop.

“Do you think that if I planted you in the garden with the rest of the sunflowers, you would grow to be a respectable height?” Really?! A respectable height? She knew that they were adversaries, of course, Ever’s versus Never’s blah blah blah, but that was entirely uncalled for. It was demeaning even!

And Lady Lesso had asked with such a serious expression to boot. I mean, what was Clarissa even supposed to say to that?! Something equally rude, of course.

“Just because you have the height of an ogre doesn’t mean you should have the manners of one.” She had responded, and Lady Lesso had looked mildly impressed.

“Hmm. Catty.”  

Clarissa had fumed about it for the rest of the week. All she had wanted to do was enjoy a lovely afternoon in the garden, and instead, she was insulted!

There began their unending disagreement. Lady Lesso would remind her of their height difference at every opportunity. About how tall she was and how short Clarissa was, and each time Clarissa would deny it. Mainly because she is not even short!

(2)

They have an unfortunate run in the library one afternoon as well.

The library isn’t exactly full that day, but all the ladders are either occupied or out of service. This is a problem because she really wants to check out a new book. Unfortunately, the book she wants is about one shelf too high. Clarissa finds herself on pointed toes leaning heavily against a bookshelf, and yet, somehow, it’s just out of arms reach.

Clarissa jumps but only manages to touch the spine of the book and push it further away. She groans, leaning her forehead against the shelf. This is—

“Do you need assistance?” Clarissa almost gives herself whiplash when she turns to face the voice. There, Lady Lesso stands, green eyes staring at her in amusement.

“No. I got it.” She says shaking her head. The book is right there; she can definitely reach it. And now that she knows Lady Lesso is watching, she has no choice but to do so. 

Five seconds later, she realizes the situation is now both futile and embarrassing. Especially seeing as the book is further out of reach than before.

“Are you sure?” Lady Lesso asks with an impolite snicker.

“Yes. I’m sure.” She responds through gritted teeth. She’s just started considering climbing the bookshelf to reach when Lady Lesso snorts, stepping closer. The redheads hand falls on Clarissa's hip almost casually as Lady Lesso’s other hand touches the book.

This sudden proximity means that Clarissa not only has to tilt her chin all the way up to look Lady Lesso in the eye, but she can also smell her perfume. Pine and pecan with a hint of honey. A winning combination, given the sudden insistent beating in her chest.

Lady Lesso takes the book off the shelf so easily that all Clarissa can do is frown, yet the woman grins at her all the while. Once the book is securely in Lady Lesso’s hand, she holds it as if waiting for something, all while looking at Clarissa expectantly.

Clarissa just purses her lips silently. She doesn’t reach for the book, already knowing that the woman would just as soon hold it over her head as she would hand it over.

“Do you want me to give it to you?” Lady Lesso asks, waving the book around like some sort of prize. “Maybe if you ask politely—“

“Oh, I just realized. That’s not the book I want.” Clarissa says, lying through her teeth. She really does want the book Lady Lesso is holding, but not enough to bow to her terms. Especially not when she can come back by for it later.

“This book?” Leonora asks, raising an eyebrow. “The one you spent an eon reaching for? All of a sudden, you don’t want it?”

“That’s right. I want—“ Clarissa blindly grabs a random book from the nearby shelf. “This one.”

“…1001 Deadly Poisons and the Best Dishes to Hide Them In. Really?” Lady Lesso looks at her disbelievingly, half-amused, and Clarissa decides to nod her head. 

“I need some new recipes.” She says, shrugging. Hopefully, Lady Lesso will put the book back, and Clarissa can go get the now-available ladder. 

The woman stares at her long and hard before smirking. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll take this one.”

Take this one? Surely she isn’t talking about Clarissa’s book. No. Perish the thought. “What do you mean?”

“I came here to find that.” She says, pointing to the book in Clarissa’s hand. “But if you’re checking it out, I guess I’ll have to make do with—“ Lady Lesso looks at the title with a faint grimace.

“1001 Tea Recipes and their Best Dessert Pairings,” Clarissa says before shutting her mouth firmly. 

“Yes. It seems… nauseatingly delightful. Informative.” Clarissa glances between the two books hesitantly.

“Perhaps we can trade.” She doesn’t need a book on poisons, and she doubts Lady Lesso has any use for a book on tea. 

“Perhaps not,” Lady Lesso snorts. “I can reach that book at any time, Professor Dovey. I don’t think you’ll ever be able to reach this one, seeing as you already hit your growth cap.” The woman gives her a falsely sympathetic look.

Clarissa’s eye twitches. Thrice.

Her irritation is no doubt palpable, but Lady Lesso pays it no heed.

“Why don’t you say ‘Lady Lesso, thank you for grabbing that book off of the tall shelf for me. I’m so short I couldn’t reach it and too prideful to ask for help,’ and I’ll give it to you.” Clarissa… will not be doing that. Instead, she walks away, now determined to check out the book on poisons. If Clarissa can’t get what she wants, then Lady Lesso surely can’t either.

“Or better yet, just admit that you’re short.” Lady Lesso says, trailing behind her. “I think that’s an acceptable compromise.” It is not an acceptable compromise. Not in the least.

“I’m not short.” She insists, pausing just long enough to give her a stern look. The fact that she has to look up does nothelp her point.

“You’re saying that like you really believe it. Adorable.” Lady Lesso gives her a cheshire grin, and she can feel embarrassment flooding her face. Clarissa sputters, at a loss for words.

Adorable?! She’s a woman grown! Not a bunny rabbit or a puppy. She’s older than Lady Lesso for Storian's sake. The woman should be showing her respect. She makes sure to express this point with a severe frown.

Clarissa ends up leaving the library with a new book. Granted, it's not the one she wanted, but she learns to appreciate its teachings.

For the next few months, Clarissa spouts relevant information about poison pairings when Lady Lesso is eating within earshot. She also refuses to return the book to the library out of spite. 

Clarissa renews her rental as often as necessary and keeps the book locked tight in her desk drawer. She’s read it cover to cover, after all, but it’s not going back to the library until she can get her hands on the tea recipe book.

Unfortunately, Lady Lesso is of the same mind. And neither book is properly returned to the shelf for a very long time. A very long time.

(3)

Throughout the years, Clarissa and Leonora argue over many things. For some inexplicable reason, height becomes a returning point of interest. This can really only be blamed on Lady Lesso's nature of an arachist.

Fortunately, Clarissa learns. When she has a problem reaching something (and that happens very rarely), she uses a summoning spell instead of allowing Lady Lesso to hold said thing over her head. It doesn’t always work, though. It’s only natural that some items resist the call.

Like the golden apple hanging off of a limb on the tree in front of her, she wants to make a turnover or two, and a golden apple is always a special treat. Clarissa can’t quite reach it though, and climbing is out of the question. She can’t even use earth magic as it might disturb the tree's roots. 

Clarissa reaches for it, really reaches, but the attempt is futile. Biting her lip, she wonders if she should summon a step stool to give her some much-needed height.

Who else but Lady Lesso would show up to witness her distress? The woman doesn’t quite sneak up on her. She hears the approaching footsteps, after all. But she had hoped that if she ignored the woman long enough, she would return from whence she came. It does not work out the way she hoped.

“Professor Dovey, you seem to be struggling.” Lady Lesso observes much to her chagrin. She is struggling. That much is obvious. The audience doesn’t help at all (it never does, actually).

“Can I help you?” Clarissa asks, turning to face the taller woman with a frown. She hadn’t expected anyone else to be in the forest so early in the morning.

“I think I’m the one who was supposed to ask that question.” Nope. No help is needed here. Clarissa shakes her head, and the Never snorts, stepping closer as she speaks. “You know, I heard that there’s only one golden apple that fruits on this tree every year.” Clarissa stiffens, glancing between the apple and Lady Lesso. Surely she isn’t thinking of—

“Is that so?” Clarissa asks noncommittally. She tries not to show on her face how much she wants that apple. “Curious.”

“Yes.” Lady Lesso nods. “And yet each and every year when I get here, it’s missing.”

Clarissa shrugs. She looks forward to her yearly apple tarts, and it’s not her fault that Lady Lesso is slow to the punch. “Well, you know what they say about the early bird.”

“Yes, but now I’m thinking of a new saying.” Lady Lesso responds, grabbing the apple and tugging it from the branch with a near-silent snap. Those few inches Leonora had on her made all the difference, Clarissa silently acknowledged with a frown. “The tall woman gets the apple, the short one… well, doesn’t.” Leonora drawls lowly in her ear before leaning back with a grin. Clarissa will admit only to herself how much she enjoyed the close contact, however brief.

Lady Lesso starts to toss the apple, catching it in her every few seconds without breaking eye contact. It’s infuriating. Even more infuriating is how impressive the nonchalant action is.

“I’m not short,” Clarissa states, because what else is there to say? She’s not getting the apple this year, that’s for sure.

“You are.” Lady Lesso says, nodding her head. “Perhaps I’ll give you the apple if you admit it.”

Perhaps? It’s almost guaranteed that if she gives in, Lady Lesso will take the apple anyway. That would leave her both apple-less and embarrassed. “Lady Lesso, you may be taller than I am, but that doesn’t give you the right to look down on me.” She says with a frown.

A poor choice of words in retrospect.

“Professor Dovey, I can’t help but look down on you given our vast difference in height.” An over-exaggeration by miles. It’s what? Six inches at most. “I’ll give you the apple if you admit that you’re short. Promise.”

Lady Lesso waves the tantalizing fruit in her face. How bad does she really want this apple? Is it enough to set aside her dignity?

Clarissa squints, trying to find any trace of falsehood in the woman’s face.

“I—“ She starts, and Lady Lesso raises an expectant eyebrow, awaiting the words. Clarissa exhales sharply. No. No, the golden apple is not worth her dignity.

“I… hope you enjoy your apple.” She says, and it’s not true. Not true at all. Hopefully, there’s a caterpillar rooting around somewhere under the skin.

“Hmm.” Lady Lesso doesn’t press, instead brushing past Clarissa on her way back to the school. “I will.” She says, shooting her a parting smirk.

Clarissa picked a different apple that day. In fact, she picked five, all well within reach. And she has a pie instead of tarts, and it’s almost as good as her usual treat. Almost.

(4)

Clarissa doesn’t quite recall when they started using each other's first name, but once it starts, it never stops. She hates to admit how easily Leonora’s name rolls off her tongue. How much she enjoys hearing her own name falling from Leonora’s lips. It’s pleasant. Usually.

“Clarissa?” Leonora’s voice catches her attention one day as she’s sitting in her office. The woman had shown up at her door at an inopportune time, and Clarissa was having a hard time focusing.

“Hmmm?”

“You’re looking at that bookshelf like it personally insulted you.” It had personally insulted her. Mainly because It is withholding the key to one of the closets in the groom room. For some reason, someone —a student who shall not be named— had thought that was the best place to return the key.

It was definitely not the best place to return it, seeing as Clarissa couldn’t reach it!

“Is there a reason there’s a chair sitting next to it?”

“… no.” Yes, actually. Because before Lady Lesso had come knocking at her door, Clarissa had been in the midst of reaching for it. Honestly, it was as if the woman sensed when she was having— 

“Are you sure?” Leonora asks, tilting her head curiously.

“Yes, I’m sure. Why don’t you tell me—“

Leonora walks over to the shelf with a purpose, and Clarissa feels her expression getting more tense with every step. She quickly follows, but Leonora runs her hand across the top of the bookshelf before Clarissa can stop her.

“Wait—“ she grabs the woman’s arm, but it’s far too late.

“Got it,” Leonora says, holding the key in her hand. Clarissa stares at Leonora and the key, then Leonora again.

“I’m not short.” She says defensively. She might as well get it out of the way, seeing as that’s how this conversation always goes.

“If you weren’t short, you would not have been able to reach this without the chair.” Leonora is still holding the key, still looking at her expectantly. Could Clarissa get it replaced instead of dealing with this?

“Would you just give it to me?” She pleads. For the first time, she asks for Leonora’s grace in a matter of high importance. Hopefully, she can get it back without—

“Would you just admit that you’re short?” Leonora responds in the same tone as she does the unthinkable.

She pats Clarissa’s head, no doubt ruining her hair in the process! The nerve of this woman!

Clarissa bats the offending hand away and glares. She’s determined to project as much displeasure as possible to the taller woman. Leonora just grins harder.

“I’m getting it replaced, so it doesn’t matter. You can keep that if you want.” Clarissa decides it and speaks it at the exact moment. She’s not short!

“… you’re not serious.” 

“I am.” Clarissa doesn’t care if it costs her a kingdom and a half; she’s not giving in to Lady Lesso’s demand. Not now, not ever.

Leonora blinks at her for a second before cracking a smile. “Alright. I guess I will. But only if you’re sure you don’t need it.”

“I don’t. It’s yours.” Clarissa made her bed. She might as well lay in it. It has nice thick blankets and comfortable plush pillows, and most importantly, she’ll sleep well knowing Lady Lesso didn’t get the last word. “Now, what were you saying about—“

“We can have this conversation later. I need to put my new key somewhere safe.” Leonora interrupts her as she walks away, sliding the key into the pocket of her suit. Clarissa watches her swift departure, mouth agape.

So basically, Leonora had only shown up to ruin her evening. Typical.

Fortunately, getting the closet lock replaced doesn’t cost a kingdom and a half. It does, however, cut into her frivolity budget for the season.

If you ask Clarissa, though, it was entirely worth it. Especially since she got a deal on a second lock replacement. For an entire week, Lady Lesso has a problem opening her office door before she finds a new key on her desk.

That has absolutely nothing to do with Clarissa. Nothing at all.

(5)

Rafal fell, and it was determined that she and Lady Lesso were going to be sharing the schoolmaster's old office. They would be co-deans. An interesting proposal that they had both accepted. Clarissa had promptly made a plan.

Her stuff would occupy the lower shelves. Leonora could have the high ones. This would ensure that she would never ever struggle to reach something within Leonora’s field of vision. She had even moved in extra early to make sure that her stuff was in the right place.  It all fell apart with the introduction of Lady Lesso.

Clarissa really shouldn’t have been surprised.

When Clarissa gets to the office the following day, she realizes, to her immense horror, that nothing is where she left it. Leonora is already there, clearly waiting to see her reaction.

“What did you do?” Clarissa asks despite already knowing the answer. All of the stuff that she had purposely put on low shelves was moved up to the high ones. To the shelves, she was purposefully avoiding. And the lower shelves are now occupied by Lady Lesso’s affects.

“You already know what I did, Clarissa,” Leonora says, with that annoyingly endearing familiar grin.

“Why?” Because that’s the natural follow-up. What in the world could have possessed her to—

“A tall woman such as yourself shouldn’t have any problem reaching those items. Right?” Her eyes snap from the shelves back to Lady Lesso, and she fumes. 

“You know—“ she bites her tongue, taking a deep breath. “I’m not tall, Leonora. You know that. I know that. We both know that.”

“Because you’re…” the woman trails off pointedly, no doubt expecting Clarissa to finish the sentence while admitting defeat.

She would build a new, even lower shelf with her bare hands before she said those words to Leonora. Clarissa presses her lips together as she makes a plan. All she has to do is move everything back to where it’s supposed to be. Right? It’s that easy.

“Average. I’m average.” Clarissa says, straightening her spine, and Lady Lesso shakes her head. “And I’m moving my stuff back to where it belongs.” She says seriously. She means that, too. This joke had gone far enough.

“Be careful,” Leonora responds, giving her a mysterious look through glittering green eyes. Be careful?

“Why?”

“Well, you haven’t gotten to the best part yet, Princess.” The best part? She squints suspiciously at Leonora, raising her finger as it glows. Her spell doesn’t work.

“You put anti-summoning charms on my stuff?” Clarissa demands, approaching Leonora with angry footsteps. 

The redhead shrugs, circling Clarissa nonchalantly. “Well, it’s all so fragile. I would hate for anything to break.” Meaning she’ll either have to carefully move everything by hand or ask Lady Lesso for help. “Do you need some assistance, perhaps? You know, getting everything back where it belongs.”

“Nope. I got it.” She says firmly.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m certain.” Her nails dig into her palms as she silently seethes.

“You know, if you weren’t so short, you could strangle me with no issue. You look like you want to.” Leonora informs her of this, pausing in front of her with an amused grin. The woman is looking down on her, always looking down on her. It’s infuriating.

“I’d very much rather kick you in the shin,” Clarissa admits, trying to brush away her frustration. This is fine. It would take an hour at most, and all she needs to get is a step ladder.

“What so we can finally be at eye level?” Lady Lesso snarks back with a laugh. Clarissa doesn’t kick her in the shin. Storian does she want to, but she refuses to stoop to violence.

Clarissa does, however, build her own damn shelf. She’s so impressed by her new skill that she redoes Leonora’s shelves, making sure that they’re all just a little bit crooked.

She feels a little joy inside whenever she spots Leonora staring at the shelves with a slight frown after something tips over or falls off. 

(+1)

Leonora had compared Clarissa to a sunflower the day they met. It wasn’t an inaccurate statement, seeing how the woman glowed the sun's rays reflecting off of her golden dress. How bright her smile was. It made Leonora feel like the sun was beaming up at her instead of down. She thought Clarissa was pretty, a sight for sore eyes, yet somehow, her words were unable to reflect this feeling.

Looking back, her statement kind of sounded like a threat and an insult wrapped all in one because it seems that Leonora can’t even compliment someone without being mean.

“Do you think that if I planted you in the garden with the rest of the sunflowers, you would grow to be a respectable height?” She had asked. It’s genuinely no surprise that Clarissa hadn’t appreciated the comment.

Truthfully, Leonora knows that Clarissa isn’t that short. But the important thing is that she’s shorter. Clarissa has to look up at her when they’re talking, trading barbs, or facing each other. She likes it. She especially likes catching the fairy off guard trying to get something just out of reach.

It’s the same song and dance every time. Leonora will ask if the woman needs help, and Clarissa will deny it with a straight face. ‘No, I don’t need help,’ or ‘No, I got it,’ or even Leonora’s favorite, ‘I was wrong; I don’t need that. You keep it,’ Knowing good and well that in the few seconds since Leonora has retrieved the item, her needs haven’t changed in the slightest.

Yes, Clarissa had wanted that book. Yes, Clarissa had wanted that golden apple. Yes, Clarissa needed help getting that key off of the top of the bookshelf. And, yes, Clarissa definitely needed help moving her stuff back down after Leonora had put it on the high shelves (And really, she just wanted to see how far the woman would go not to ask for help). Yet Clarissa never backs down. She’ll grumble, frown, and give Leonora a withering look, but for some reason, she refuses to even entertain her helping hand. Said helping hand does come with strings attached, of course.

"Just admit that you're short, Princess."

"I'm not short!"

She had called the woman adorable one time. Just once. And the Ever had firmly informed Leonora that she was both older and wiser, and far too old to be called cute. That didn’t help her case at all, really, because Leonora thought the lecture was adorable as well, though she had enough sense not to say that aloud. Not with the subtle yet very effective ways Clarissa does her revenge.

So yes, Clarissa is pretty, and Leonora knew that she was attracted to her from the moment they met. And some might say that Leonora’s attempts at flirting with Clarissa by holding things out of reach are less than effective and they would be right. But it would never get old. And she doubts it will ever stop working either.

Until, of course, one day it does.

The day Leonora found ‘1001 Deadly Poisons and the Best Dishes to Hide Them In’ sitting right on Clarissa’s desk. The book that had been missing from the library for ages was sitting right there. The second she picks it up, Clarissa protests. 

“I can’t believe you!” Leonora says, just as Clarissa reaches to grab the book from her hand. Futile seeing Leonora’s advantage in height. She holds it up high out of reach, yet Clarissa still stretches for it, leaning on her shoulder as she jumps.

“Leonora!” Clarissa frowns, still reaching for the book. “You’re playing unfair.”

“I’m playing unfair? How many years have you been holding this book hostage?”

“I’m not holding it hostage! I just renewed my rental on that.” Clarissa responds hastily. “And you’re one to talk. What about '1001 Tea Recipes and their Best Dessert Pairings', huh? I never got to read it because you never returned it to the library.” True, but for some reason, she expected better from Clarissa.

“I never returned it because you never returned this,” Leonora says, shaking the book in her hand pointedly. But now she can read it, and she can still withhold Clarissa’s book. At least until the woman admits that she’s short.

“Give me that book, Leonora. I’m serious.”

“Let me think about it. No.” The redhead steps back, cracking the book open as she does so. She doesn’t want to break away from Clarissa’s embrace, but reading the book right in front of her face would be good for her spirit. 

Leonora doesn’t anticipate it. She doesn’t think Clarissa does either, considering the look on her face when they land on the carpeted floor. The woman had tackled her, knocking them both over. Leonora is still trying to catch her breath when she realizes her situation. Clarissa is on top of her scrambling for the book, and all she can do is watch her mouth open in surprise. For the first time since she can remember, Clarissa is looking down on her. The sun is beaming down on Leonora because the blonde grins victoriously when she catches hold of the book.

Leonora smiles back, chuckling at the unbelievable situation. Clarissa meets her eyes, then falters, losing her already precarious balance. Leonora can only grab her waist so that they both don't go tumbling over.

“I umm.” Clarissa breathes, a bit distracted as their noses brush. “I’m looking down on you, Leonora.”

She nods in response, licking her bottom lip. Leonora wants to kiss her. She really wants to kiss her. Yet Clarissa doesn’t move, still staring at her wide-eyed and in shock.

“Honestly, Princess. Is it that important?” She asks, lifting her head from the floor so that their lips brush. Clarissa leans down to meet her, and for the next few minutes, the book is forgotten.

When Clarissa lies beside her on the carpet, finally coming down from her newfound temporary advantage in height, Leonora can’t help but say it.  “Admit that you’re short,” Leonora demands, turning to face her fully. They’re holding hands now, fingers linked, palms together. It’s almost as intimate as their kiss.

“Never,” Clarissa responds with a grin, leaning in for another kiss. Leonora doesn't hesitate to respond in kind.

~~~

Note: Any editing will take place on AO3. Mostly because Tumblr confuses me. It's not Tumblr's fault though I'm just easily confused.

[e-enbyanon]

It's funny when you answered the anon asking about bloodbath bakery, becuz ideas literally about to ask that. But, I didn't know melm killed her father, and I have watched as many stainedge videos as I could. (I didn't have access to instagram, I exist only on here.)

so, huh. Also, do you know why the comic was cancelled agian?

If she was working on R3MBR M0N0, ....um. Why did she cancel/discontinue if both stories take place in the same world?

Yeah, Melm killed her dad in this video

As for the comic idk really, I think it might be on pause rather than canceled or something (then again I might’ve missed a post saying it was cancelled, so my word isn’t end all be all, yk?). He might’ve wanted to take a break from BBB so he could work on R3MBR.M0N0 and stuff. The series has a whole website, animations, VAs, and a little Flux doll thing too, not to mention planning everything out, so she could’ve taken at least a few months plus breaks in between, maybe even personal things and drawing silly stuff on the side.

(Also lylalovescartoons I’m still working on answering ur other ask btw I’m almost done with the summary and going to write my theories a critiques on R3MBR.M0N0 lol)

[extravaguk]

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

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"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

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tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

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It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

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At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

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The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

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Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

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"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

[buggxd]

RORY KEANER X GN! READER

The reader in the story is gender neutral soo yeah this is rly bad I wrote this when I was half asleep soo yeah :0 ALSO this was longer than expected ☠️☠️

I’m making this at 5 am and it’s ass I’m bored and can’t find anymore Rory fics on here or Wattpad or even ao3 soo yeah. Also kinda off topic but his hair is so cute in the movie🫶

Summary Ig: Rory has a crush you and gains enough courage to tell you how he feels with a letter.(THERE IS A TIME SKIP WITH HIS AGE BUT THIS IS A FLUFF!!)

Rory and you had been friends since grade school you’re both now in your sophomore year and he’s slowly been growing a crush on you for about a year or two now quite a while he honestly thought it would go away like every other crush he’s had but it hasn’t he really feels like he’s grown a connection with you.The two of you are really close you always hang out and cheer him up when Benny and Ethan don’t wanna hang with him or when he’s feeling down and he does the same with you, Your both always there for each other. He’s been feeling more attracted to you lately the way your hair bounces when you walk or your hand when it brushing against his fingers as you both walk to each of your classes or the way your leg touches his when you sit with him at lunch or the way you meet him every morning and smile or hug him tightly before taking the bus home or the way you call him late at night just to talk about the most random things he can go on forever thinking of all the things he absolutely loves about you and the things you do, He honestly feels as if he needs to tell you his feelings towards you. It was Sunday around 3:23pm and Rory was thinking of how he was gonna confess to you he thought of a couple different ways like texting you,telling you on the phone, telling you in person and meeting up before or after school or even on the weekend but he finally thought of something that would help him fully express himself using his words, he was gonna give you a note! He was gonna write how he felt about you and then get an envelope and draw hearts and stuff on it and then he could just get to school early and leave it in your locker. He got his school binder a blue pen and crayola markers he started to write down all the things he likes about you, or well most of the things and then he started to draw little random things on the bottom half where there was already 5 lines left he drew cats Hearts stars smiley faces and a ton of random things and then drew you and him as little stick figures holding hands once he finished he folded the paper and got a baby pink envelope and put the note inside and wrote “to:y/n from: Rory AKA R-dog!:)” He glued a paper heart the was a pretty red color to seal the envelope and neatly in one of his backpack pockets being careful not to crumble it at all after he zipped up his backpack and started to play some random video game to pass time until he eventually fell asleep. The next day he woke up extra early and made his way to school there were maybe four to 6 people roaming the halls he made his way to your locker which was conveniently next to yours he took the envelope and tried to slip it into your locker through the hole/slit (idk wut their called?? If they have a name) he looked around the halls making sure no one was in there and tried to get it in again he finally got it after struggling for quite a bit after he was done he went to go find Benny and Ethan to tell them his plan but waited a bit since he got to school a little too early After finding the two brunette boys and telling them his idea Benny and Ethan stayed quiet for a second and then they started to laugh Rory went from a smile to a slightly annoyed face “what?! Why are you guys laughing?!?” He asked half annoyed half embarrassed “she DEFINITELY doesn’t like you back man” Benny said “yeah her with you?! She probably like you like a brother type friend y’know?” Ethan said slightly out of breath “C’mon guys she DEFINITELY is into ME!!” Rory said sounding for embarrassed and sad this time “yeah sure ‘r-dog’” Benny said laughing a little and emphasizing on Rory’s nickname “forget it!” Rory said annoyed and walked to his locker and saw you already had opened the letter and we’re smiling ear to ear with the darkest shade of pink on your face while reading it he walked away slightly nervous to approach you he ended up walking into the bathroom. Soon the bell rang and you made your way to your 1st period class along with other students you walked in and saw Rory sitting in the spot next to your usual seat.

You smiled at him and sat down class was going by painfully slow your 1st period was math and you had a sub and the class working on a stupidly easy math packet for extra credit it had about 4pages and you finished mid way/almost the end of class you had seen Rory was struggling so you gave him you packet and he gladly copied once he was done you asked him to turn in both of the packets he did as you asked while he was turning them in you pulled out your notebook and a pink ballpoint pen and started to doodle random things onto the paper and when he came back at peeked over and complimented you’re mini doodles “hey y/n/n can I borrow a pen?” Rory asked you nodded with a slight smile as you reached into your bag and pulled out a blue,green and red ball point pen and placed them down on the desk you both drew on the paper and you had an idea you tore a little piece of a different paper and wrote ‘I like u 2 :)’ with your pink pen and drew you and Rory as stick figures holding hands and drew hearts around them you had leaned your head over the desk so your hair and shadow was blocking the pierce of paper once you finished you folded it and waited til the bell rang to hand it to him once you did he read it immediately and his face felt so warm and he felt all nice and fuzzy inside.

TIME SKIP TO LUNCH!!

Rory got his lunch and sat with you the two of you talked and ate your food and all of a sudden Rory said in a soft happy voice”sooo.. you like me?” You looked at him “yeah” there was some silence before the blond boy spoke again “wannagooutwithme” he said all in one breath “of course!!” You said a little too loud out of excitement he schooled closer and the two of you held hand and talked til lunch was over, Throughout the rest of the day the two of you were super close holding hands giggling and blushing and overall being one of those cheesy couples but neither of you cared.

I HATE THIS SM BUT IM RLY BORED AND THIS TOOK SUPER LONG AND IDEK HOW TO END A ONESHOT TBH OR FF OR ANYTHING☠️ ANYWAYS YEAH UM THIS PROBS SUCKS LIKE RLY BAD BIT WHATEVER IG ANYWAYS UM BYE IG ?!?!XP

[deadricslover]

request?

idk if you do song posts but if you do could you write one where the main female!reader is like district attorney and is giving a speech of some sort but gets caught up in a feminist rant when one of the reporters is rude towards her? Shes talking to bale! bruce wayne also and is comparing herself to him saying stuff like "if bruce was up here and not me would you be saying the same?" and all this kind of stuff

thanks sm

I'd be the man

here's my Masterlist!

a/n: my gif! kinda hate this and it's also not proofread. None of the lyrics of 'the man' are mine! I'm just using them. gotta love feminists. yes! I'd love to do this. you never specified what song to do so I picked a pretty general one by Taylor swift. 'the man' by ms. swift herself is a really powerful song with a powerful message behind it too! I hope this lives up to your standards :)

summary: in the request ^^ I didn't know how to write this if Bruce was your partner so I made it as if they get together after? I'm sorry 😭

warnings: enemies to lovers?. bit of spice at the end?. annoying ass reporters. cursing. little use of y/l/n. like always.

pairings: fem!reader X bale!Bruce Wayne.

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Don't even talk to you about stress. Stress is a daily part in your life. Driving to work every morning? Stress. Walking into your office? Stress. Meetings? Stress. Files and paperwork? Stress. Stress. Stress. Surprisingly enough you don't have gray hair yet. Today was one of the biggest press meetings you have had In your career so far and rumour has it that Mr. Prince of the city, Bruce Wayne will be there watching you and my god did he get on your nerves. His whole 'I'm better than you' 'I'm richer than you so I can do what I want' attitude got to you. But, today you weren't going to let him distract you because today is your day and you will ace this. Today you were being asked to give a speech about your thoughts on the masked vigilante running the streets outside the law. To be completely honest, you didn't mind this 'batman' guy at all. He did the cops job so you didn't know why they were complaining. But maybe if you sat down and thought about it for a little bit you would find some cons regarding the man in the mask. You were expected to do something in order to make the vigilante stop what they were doing, but in all honesty, you didn't want to. But, boy did you have a speech lined up.

Camera flashes blinked into your eyes making the large attentive crowd harder to see, which wasn't completely a bad thing. The cameras for the news and for the newspaper were lined up at the front, the sides and the back of the room, all facing right at you. You clear your throat quietly before drawing in a breath and starting to talk.

"good evening, ladies and gentlemen of Gotham. Today, as you know I have been asked to talk about a long list of topics that I physically could not fit into a time space this short. So, I will be focusing in on the main point that you all are eagerly waiting to hear about which is the masked vigilante running the streets." you lay out your flashcards incase your debate goes backwards.

"As you know a man in a mask has been fighting crime for the past several months in Gotham, and doing the cops job for them which you would think Is a good thing for them so they could sit back and eat more doughnuts" you joke and thankfully you get a few snickers out of people. It would be beyond words embarrassing if you didn't.

"But. There are much more disadvantages to this crime fighting being than advantages. Wheather or not I agree with these arguments doesn't matter today because I am here to do what's right and seize the Batman's actions. Nobody should be allowed to act outside of the law, no matter how cool the costume." you weren't expecting a laugh from anyone at that moment but there was one particular one that caught everyone's ear in the silence of the room. Bruce mother fucking Wayne. You take a deep breath calming yourself for the next while not allowing yourself to get agitated by him.

You continue with your arguments getting the odd dirty look from Bruce and some reporters. How did you come to hate Bruce Wayne so much you ask? Well he basically just thinks he is better than you in ever single way just because he is wealthier than you, and of course because he is a man after all and men get the upper hand in society. Men always have. You're a successful women? Oh, who did you sleep with to get here? You're a woman and have an opinion? oh, lord no. that can't happen. Had a dating life? no.no.no. you can't play around before finding the one to commit to. Unless you were a man of course. Being a powerful women leader without getting hate, just isn't on the cards for us. And the list goes on and on and on. This was the last thing on your mind right now but some how it happened to up it's way into the discussion today. And boy did you go off on everyone. It may have been a little bit embarrassing but so what? You were standing up for every single women, not just in Gotham, but around the whole world.

"In this particular photograph here, we can see the batman phy-" you get cut off by a loud, obnoxious laugh that could only belong to Bruce.

"Are you finished Mr. Wayne? I have a presentation to present" you say turning 90° to the crowd.

"Yes. I am. Sorry about that" he replies re-gathering himself again.

"Good. Now If I could draw your attention to this pie-" you are cut off again by the exact same noise.

"Bruce, would you like to share whatever it is you are finding so amusing with everyone else? I'm sure they would love to hear." you say enraged at his behaviour

"No, it's just- well The batman is in fact outside of the law. I agree with you on that one. But he's not all bad. You are making him out to be a bad guy when he's really just trying to help the city." he says stuttering his words out of humour whilst getting up out of his seat and walking up to you.

"And what about that is so funny to you?" you reply full of anger

"Just the fact that you had to go against your beliefs regarding the batman to even be here today"

"Every meeting I have been at that you were there, you just slept the whole time. Why don't you do us all a favour and doze off for the duration of this." The amount of 'boo''s and negative mumbles you got from that were really destructive actually.

Bruce puts on a fake sarcastic pained face whilst mouthing 'ouch' to you before perking an eyebrow upwards. He could see the anger bubbling deep inside and that acted as fuel for him to keep going.

"That's not very mature of you Ms. Y/L/N" which earns a bunch of light giggles from the crowd.

you place your palm flat on the surface of the podium holding yourself upright as you push away the microphone for a moment trying to sus out what He's playing at here.

"What the fuck are you getting at here, Bruce? You're making me look bad." you whisper angrily at him

He cocks his head to the side resting his elbow Infront of your palm leaning at an angle becoming your height. he gasps lightly before saying sarcastically "language!.....And I'm not trying to make you look bad" he says lying. His face shows it all and be made sure you could see it.

"Then why are you up here?! I have thirty minutes left of this shit and you're wasting my time, Wayne" you rant.

"wow I gotta find something to argue about for thirty minutes....I'm sure it won't be hard with you"

"It is taking every bone in my body to not punch you across that smug face of yours"

"I'm gonna change the topic of discussion. Is that ok? yes?! thank you, you're a star, Babe" he says winking whilst walking away before letting you give him an answer.

"Ms. district attorney. Recent sources have confirmed that you are not in a relationship your ex boyfriend anymore. I came here today to ask you, How has your career changed since? Have you been making less money now that you're a one person package again? hmm?"

here we go.

"That's it. Bruce I'm going to ask you this one more time. What. Are. You. Doing. Here. I have a presentation to finish and you are not helping in any way, shape or form. So, unless you are going to help me get this vigilante off the streets and not ask me about my personal life that you are not a part of, then I suggest you go back to your seat. How does that sound?"

"It doesn't tickle my fancy. I'm sure everyone else wants to know though? right?! How hard had the breakup hit you? In here if you need to talk about it-"

That was the final straw. After this slipped past Bruce's lips you turned around to face him, who was standing a good bit away from you - which is probably safer for him- and let go of your anger cutting him off.

"Bruce, Bruce, Bruce. May I ask. What's it like to brag about ranking in dollars and getting all the girls that are models? It being socially acceptable to make women look bad for the things that you are doing that get praise. How does it feel, Mr. Wayne" you start. slowly stepping away from your previous spot. He gets visibly angry by this. The hypocrite.

"Wait. It's all good if you're bad at your job and even more ok if you're mad right now. Because You are a wealthy, powerful MAN that can do whatever he wants whenever he wants. right? But imagine this..."

You turn around to the crowd and return to your spot at the podium before getting into character and saying.

"But. If I was out flashing my dollars, I'd be a bitch, not a baller." There is uproar. People standing up and shouting over you because you cursed on TV.

"They'd paint me out to be bad. so it's ok that I'm mad!" you exclaim the last line louder than the rest because of your anger and also because if the overlapping chatter and angry sentences coming from everyone. you hit your first off the surface below you in anger which seems to silence everyone.

"I am so sick of working as hard as I can and getting no credit for it. I'm wondering if I would get there quicker if I was a man. If Bruce- Mr. Wayne, exuse me.. and I swapped positions would there be as much chaos in the crowd as there is now? Ok so If Bruce was trying to get the batman of the streets and I was rudely interrupting him by obnoxiously laughing and causing a scene. Would there be any hesitation in shooing me off the stage? No....see. I'm not getting fully into this today but For those of you who don't know, women are treated like shit compared to men when it comes to power. Men have the upper hand and have it easier than women and still think it's ok to treat us unfairly.....Thank you everyone for your time." you finish gathering your cards and walking off stage, the crowd livening up again with questions for you. But you ignore them.

Soon after you get off stage and sit down in your office chair, you begin to massage your temples kneading away the anger that built up that you didn't let out. You hear a knock on the doorframe and look up to see a man in a black tux with a white shirt not standing straight leaning up at an angle against the wooden frame. He's standing with a sincere sorry face painted on.

"I can't get a moment's peace" you mumble slightly seeing that it's Bruce.

"Yes. Mr Wayne. How can I help you" you say with an urgent annoyed tone

"Believe it or not I came to say I'm sorry." he says softly sounding genuine

"apology accepted. now get out I have to find a new job" you reply sarcastically

"you're not going to get demoted. I am going to get...alot...of hate for what I started. I didn't know it ever annoyed you, I was just....god this is going to sound so weird and I'm going to sound like a lying dick. But, I just wanted to get your attention. I thought it was the only way to have a relationship with you and I was willing to have one where you hated me over nothing at all. I see that was wrong and you didn't like it and I'm really truly sorry. I'm not expecting you to say anything back but I just owed you an explanation as to why I was acting the way I was all these years." he talks on and on

to say you were shocked was an understatement. You had no words, there was nothing flowing through your head at all. In all honesty Bruce was an insanely attractive man but all this time you thought he was an ass so you never had any desire to have a romantic relationship with him. After hearing this there was part of you that wanted to just run up to him and kiss him, but the sane part of you knew that that would be the wrong thing to do. Apparently you're insane. After a second of looking at him deep in thought you get up our of your chair walking towards him with butterflies in your stomach, he straightens himself curious as to what you're doing until his questions are diminished when you smash your lips to his in complete euphoria and impulse. He kisses back and you can feel his smirk against your mouth. His left hand firmly draws the back of your waist towards his, your fingers thread through his hair tugging at it while his other hand slips under your arm and keeps a firm grip on your upper back toying with the neck's seam of your shirt. Eventually you pull away and draw in a quiet breath while he composes himself.

"That was the last thing I thought you would do, Mrs." he says sleepy-eyed into yours, seductively.

"well, was it a good surprise?" you retort in the same tone

"why don't I show you what I thought of it?" and you felt the impact of that line immediately in-between your legs, before you had one of the best times of your life which you or Bruce would never ever forget.

[simkngdan]

JUST A LITTLE BIT - 08 : riki you idiot.

wc : 581

dec 22, 2021. 8:07 am | location: belift lab high school

“riki hey!” jake greeted the younger, who was entering the key to his locker.

“oh, jake? ‘sup man?“ riki said in a state of confusion from jake’s unexpected presence.

“yo i was wondering if you could help me out a bit, it’s something that’s been bothering me for a little.”

“uhh, are you sure you want me to help?” riki laughed, “we just met so i’m probably not your best choice-“

“actually it has to do with y/n, so you’re the only one who can help me.”

riki stared into the older boy and quickly gathered his things from his locker, shoving them in his backpack, “oh y/n? actually, i think i should probably head to class, its starting soon. i’ll see you later!” he chucked and rushed away trying to avoid jake, failing quickly when jake grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.

“listen, i just need you to answer something really quick, i promise i won’t tell anyone anything.”

riki looked around frantically, searching for any sign that his friends may be around, “ugh fine. what’s your question?” he whispered, a sigh of relief coming from jake’s mouth.

“thanks man,” the older boy smiled, “ok so you know how in the groupchat, you told us that y/n had a crush on one of us?”

riki’s eyes opened up wide, regret washing over him from his previous statement as he suspected what jake would ask him, “yeah? i think.” he shrugged.

“did she ever tell you who it was? not that it’s any of my business, but i was just wondering because you know-“

riki dozed off in the middle of jake’s rambling, debating on how to answer jake’s question. should he tell him that she “likes” him? but what if jake confesses his crush on y/n, which he clearly has, and it turns into a big mess? maybe it’s better he keep it to himself, right? just blow it off, pretend she never told him who she had a crush on, and nothing will happen.

“she told me she had a crush on you.” riki blurted out.

riki you idiot, he mentally face planted himself.

“OH SHIT!“ jake yelled, drawing the attention of multiple classmates in the halls, one of them being isa who gave riki a “what the hell is he yelling about” look.

“yeah i got to go buddy. glad i could help!” he said, patting jake on the shoulder and walking away as fast as he could once more, escaping isa this time.

after arriving to his classroom, he let out a sigh and calmly collected himself before walking over to his desk. he sunk down into his seat, his hood over his head, wishing this day would end along with his misery. the bell rang loudly in his ears, as he sat up and felt a tap on his shoulder. he turned back and groned loudly at the sight of the person he last wanted to see right now, “y/n? why are you here? since when are you in this class?”

“uhh since the first day?” she said, shuffling through her backpack to take out her homework, “good morning to you too i guess.”

“good morning sorry, it’s just been a stressful morning.”

“oh damn, is everything ok? is this about the whole sunghoon thing? i didn’t mean for it to stress you out.” she said, concern deep in her voice for the boy.

“oh no. well yes, but everything’s fine. don’t worry about it.” he lied and he gave her a reassuring smile, turning his body to the front of the classroom and sinking down into his seat again, yeah this is gonna be a big mess.

masterlist | prev | next

a/n: first written chapter OMG i actually liked writing chapters more than i thought i would IDK WHY I WAS RLLY SCARED TO WRITE THIS but anyways! i wanted to say that ik the y/n fanclub flame riki a lot but !! it is just like teasing between friends :) i just wanted to point it out bc i feel like it came off like they were being really mean to riki but it’s all just part of the story 😉😉 THANK U GUYS AGAIN FOR READING I HOPE YOU ARE SAFE AND HEALTHY <3

summary - if there were two things y/n and park sunghoon had in common, it was their love for figure skating and themselves. other than that, you could say they were born to hate each other. whether it was on or off the ice, the two were always at each others necks, trying to find some kind of competition. but what happens when y/n gets together with sunghoon’s best friend, jake, as a way to distract sunghoon and he starts to get… jealous? can sunghoon get y/n to love him back, even if it’s just a little bit?

tag list! ( open ) @abdiitcryy @candidupped @c9tnoos @wonjaems @zhaixiaowen @stanmiku2020 @rikisnotforsale @mitsukifilms @c0nvers3h1gh @god-is-a-homosexual @laylasims1115 @sthinqsz @tobiosbbyghorl @rein-deer-stuffs @tlnyjoong @enhacolor @floverful @jungwoniics @papiibuprofen @shigamiryuk @youngestdelacour @theskzvibe @mymeloem19 @vantxx95 @shysakuno @uglyratlmao @hooniesoul @luvrseung @missmadwoman @niocity @minyouily @sftpjmn

[spencersawkward]

i’m so happy ur on tumblr now!! i love between the lines so much, could you write a blurb or one shot about mgg and a younger co-star, but like very spicy if possible 🙃, idk i just love that scenario🥵.

i was literally about to write "omg i love this concept too!" and then i was like “well no fucking shit, sophi.” lol. YES i can 10/10 write you a one-shot with a similar scenario! also thank you for your kind words that was the first fic i ever wrote so it’s very near and dear to my heart!

summary: reader goes to a holiday party with her co-stars and best friend, Matthew... but all the fun happens in the dressing room.

content warnings: this one is quite dirty but i’m also proud of it lol. unprotected penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), degradation, use of the term “little girl,” creampie, age gap. dirty talk?

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

word count: 4.7k

masterlist

"no."

"what do you mean, 'no’?” Matthew laughs, looking between me and the mirror.

"I look like the Ghost of Christmas Past." I lift up the soft white tulle of the dress, watching it float back down to settle over my skin. he's got his eyebrows raised and there's a smirk on his lips like he's holding back a laugh. I resist the urge to reach around and hit him.

"would you rather wear that?" he points to the punch-stained gown that's now laying pathetically over the back of the vanity chair. I genuinely ponder the idea for a moment.

"honestly, the crime scene vibes might work well with the theme of our show."

"seriously, it's not bad, Y/N!" he insists, drawing my attention back to the mirror.

"you're just saying that because you're the one who spilled on me and you don't want people making fun of how clumsy you are." I cross my arms over my chest. he gives me a dubious expression in our reflection on the wall.

"do I seem like I care about that?" he challenges.

"I--" the truth is that no, Matthew is not the type. Matthew is the kind of person to flounder in front of anyone and proceed to crack a joke about himself. he's humble. but I kind of like when we talk like this, our back and forth.

after a year of working together on the same show, he and I have grown incredibly close. I'm friends with all my co-stars, but he and I just have the natural friendship chemistry that makes me want to spend all my time with him. when we're not on set, we're hanging out on his couch or ordering dinner or driving out of town to check out wacky sites around California. we just have fun. pure, clean, honest fun.

of course, in my dreams it isn't pure or honest. frankly, there's a lot of sordid scandal to what goes on in my head when he accidentally touches my arm or brushes his fingers over mine. the amount of times I have gone to cast parties trying to work up the nerve to kiss him are embarrassing. he's older and more experienced and, obviously, he has no interest in me.

but that doesn't matter.

the only reason I'm standing in a dressing room alone with him is because he knew someone on the crew who could hook me up with a replacement for the night. he left while I slipped out of the old one and came back in only after knocking and checking, like, twice to make sure I was decent. he's so respectful that it's almost like he's afraid of making me think the wrong thing-- which makes me feel absolutely stupid for my almost schoolgirl crush.

"come on, you look great. let's go enjoy the party."

"was this a dress one of the victims was wearing?" I ask with a laugh.

"probably. not like we carry a lot of gowns on set." he grabs my hand, makes my heart leap into my throat. he only does it to urge me along, but it still feels intimate as I follow him out of the room, tossing one more evaluative glance at myself in the mirror. I seem terrified.

we continue to do our rounds at the party, Matthew filling my glass of eggnog even though I hate it. I wince and take a sip while we talk to some of our co-stars.

"what's wrong with you?" Shemar chuckles at my expression.

"lost a bet."

"with whom?" he glances between Matthew and me, knowing damn well already from the mischievous grin on the former's face.

"I told you not to take it." Matthew says over the rim of his glass.

"if you mention it one more time, I'm gonna throw up eggnog all over your outfit." I threaten him, but we're both smiling. Shemar frowns.

"what was the bet?"

"you know David-- the guy I was telling you about?" I reply quickly, determined to give my side of the story. Shemar nods; I told him last week when David oh-so-chivalrously danced up on me at a club and asked me out. usually in those situations, guys just want a one-night stand, so I was impressed and agreed. "anyway, Matthew said if it turned out that he was a weirdo, he would get to pick my drinks for the next week whenever we go out."

"your drinks? that's specific."

"she's so picky!" Matthew teases me.

"leave me alone, you dick!" I elbow him and he dodges just in time.

"tell him why he was a weirdo." he grins. the glare I give could kill. but Shemar is waiting expectantly for me to share the information, so I sigh and set my jaw before telling the truth.

"he collects antique dental tools."

"what?" Shemar laughs disbelievingly. I throw my hands up.

"I don't fucking know. we went back to his apartment and he showed me his whole collection."

"you're attracted to weird people, Y/N." Matthew says. I raise my eyebrows and almost say something that dooms me. I hold my tongue, however, and turn back to Shemar with a reserved smile.

"anyway, how are you?"

...

the cast holiday party is actually pretty fun. I tend to leave these functions early in favor of my couch and some ice cream, but something about the bright colors and the smell of wintergreen in the air makes me want to linger in the studio.

I stuff myself with sugar cookies and Matthew mercifully lets me switch from eggnog to Sprite. normally, I'd drink at such an occasion, but I'm a messy drunk and this is one of my first real jobs as an actress. I don't want to even come close to jeopardizing that by breaking some expensive equipment or something.

my throat gets a little sore from all the talking I do-- Paget and I spend about half an hour horribly belting out Christmas carols at the baby grand piano they brought in. they originally had someone hired to play it, but the guy disappeared about an hour ago.

by the time it hits around ten pm, my limbs are tired. I thought people would be leaving (a lot of them have families), but the party is still very much raging when I start to wind down. maybe it's because I'm sober.

"hey." Matthew sidles up next to me as I sit at the piano bench with a slice of lime in my mouth. I like to suck the juice out of them; sour things are my favorite.

"hi." I pluck the fruit out and drop it back into my soda. he sits next to me, his cologne filling my senses with the kind of sensual warmth that it shouldn't be making me feel. he always smells so good.

"ladylike." he gestures to the movement.

"is that why you call me 'princess?'" I smirk, half-joking.

"once-- I called you that once!" he defends. it's not a lie. he used the nickname when he was mocking me for my somewhat selective food preferences. it was sarcastic, but I wish it wasn't. something about the way he said it in the moment made me blush.

"is there a reason you've come to grate my nerves?" I raise an eyebrow and he turns away from me as he bites back a smile. I pout. "what?"

"you're talking like a Jane Austen novel."

"what's wrong with Jane Austen?" I defend, skin heating up. his proximity is doing things to me that it shouldn't.

"nothing," he glances at me before moving his gaze to the ivory keys. "do you play?"

"elementary level, sure." I giggle. he runs his fingers over them, never pressing down hard enough to release a sound. I'm entranced by the delicate nature of his actions, the veins and the curve of his fingertips, the sheer width of his hand. I think about it too much for it to be healthy.

"show me." it's a direct order, one that doesn't feel directive but still ends with me placing both hands on the piano and wracking my brain for something to play. I decide on a piece that Paget and I were doing earlier, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."

I've never been quite good at piano, and the nearness of his body is like an anvil on my fingers, but I play anyway. and it feels good. his eyes are on me, drawn to my tracings over the instrument as they press and lift and glide.

"sing." I tell him.

"no!" he protests. I don't stop playing, only now getting into the thick of the tune.

"oh, come on. just the chorus..." I plead, turning my head to beg. "please?"

I bat my lashes playfully, fully intending it as a joke, but Matthew softens a bit. for a fraction of a second, I think he looks at my mouth. he turns his head back to the piano and lets out a quiet "here we are as in olden days... happy golden days of yore..."

"there you go!" I egg him on, and he starts to get more into it. his voice is absolutely off-key; he's no singer, and somehow that makes him even more endearing to me.

Matthew has always been this flawless, intimidating figure in my mind. even when we first met, I was certain that he was hiding something because everything else about him is so... perfect. he's funny, sweet, genuinely kind, handsomer than hell. it didn't make sense. but knowing that he can't carry a tune makes me feel a bit better. it humanizes his beauty.

while he sings, I can't help looking at him. his side profile is even more enchanting; the curve of his features meeting a smooth elegance in his jaw and cheek, especially when his mouth is open. he catches me smiling at him and returns it with his own gleeful face, now totally fine with singing like a fool in front of everyone. nobody is even really looking at us-- they're several drinks in and lost in their own universe of drunken laughter.

there's something kind of magical about that, I think. we're sober. when the song draws to a close, I lift my fingers off the keys and into my lap.

"you're quite the Pavarotti." I joke.

"the who?" he furrows his brow with a smile.

"he's a famous opera singer."

"oh," he laughs, "thanks, Mozart."

I twist my face up as I hide my smile. this is also part of the reason I could never tell Matthew how I feel; we just fit together too well. he almost always gets my references and I understand his, even though there's an age gap between us. he's an old soul with a youthful heart.

"how's your night going?" I ask him softly, changing the subject. he sets his hands on his lap, absent-mindedly toying with his fingers. it's not a nervous tendency at all. he does it whenever we're on set.

"as of right now? pretty damn good." he replies with a smile. I get warm again at the implication. he doesn't mean it like that, but god, do I wish he did.

"very smooth." I compliment appreciatively.

"how about you?"

"it was kind of boring, but then this rando sat next to me and started singing Christmas songs and it got a little better." I say flatly, grabbing my glass off the top of the piano and running my fingertip over the rim. he drops his head in a giggle.

"you're something else."

"insult?" I clarify.

"definitely a compliment."

"I like compliments."

"well, I wasn't lying before. you look really beautiful in that dress."

"the murder dress?" I glance down at it to hide the absolute wideness of my eyes at his words. he's completely flustering me and I'm starting to find it hard to breathe. he said I look beautiful. not "pretty," not "great"-- beautiful.

"yes, the murder dress." he gets a little pink in his cheeks, and that makes me want to explode on the spot.

"well, say goodbye to it because I'm gonna go change back into my plebeian clothes," I stand from the piano bench. "it's past my bedtime."

Matthew looks up at me with an unreadable expression and I feel my heart flutter in my chest. I hate leaving him. "do you wanna come with me? like-- walk with me?"

"sure." he nods, stands, and follows behind. I can feel his presence like a delightful reminder of the emotions surging in my stomach. we wind through the crowd of party-goers until we end up back in the dressing room, away from the party. it's quiet.

Matthew walks in with me, carrying our drinks in his hand, and he's about to stroll back out so I can change when I touch his arm. the door shuts automatically behind him.

"wait," I swallow quickly. "can you unzip me?"

"oh." Matthew looks at me, then at the glasses in his arms, then at the vanity. he sets them down and comes back quickly, his frame behind me while his fingertips locate the little piece at the top of my gown. my breath hitches in my throat when he brushes over my spine by accident, one nail dragging accidentally against my skin as the fabric slowly gives way. I don't know if he hears it-- it's nearly imperceptible-- but he definitely hesitates once he reaches the place where my back starts to curve into my ass. he pauses, doesn't breathe until he reaches the end of the zipper.

"there you go." he mutters. his voice is a little more hoarse than usual, and he clears his throat as he steps away. I know he's going to back out. he's going to back out of the room and wait for me to slip into nothing and I know, somehow, that he's going to be thinking about how I look in here with my clothes off. he's going to wish he stayed.

and I'm going to wish he'd done more than stayed.

before I can lose my nerve and allow the moment to be swallowed up by practicality, I shrug the straps of the dress down my shoulders and let gravity take over. it drops to the floor, leaving me in only my bra and panties. I can sense him behind me; he's silent for a moment.

"Matthew." I say, the name sitting on my tongue like a sugar cube. perfectly formed, slowly dissolving.

"y-yeah?" he stutters for the first time since I've met him.

"are you looking at my ass right now?" I ask, still turned around. the way he's frozen in place tells me that I'm right.

"yeah." he admits.

"you can touch it, if you want." I murmur softly. part of me doesn't think this is real, the way each sentence leaves my throat like it's been pre-planned. truly, I don't understand how my brain is moving so quickly.

"are you... sure?" he's hesitant, but even I can taste the longing.

"yes."

his hand smooths over my butt, softly at first like he's still not believing his own eyes, before moving back to grab it. he squeezes the flesh, and a low exhale from him tells me that he's excited.

"do you want more?" my voice barely carries. my head is almost foggy from how good it is to have his grip on my body, even in such a simple way. I can feel myself getting wet.

"how much more?" his lips brush over my shoulder and I get goosebumps. my mouth opens and closes for a moment, searching for the right words.

"however much you want."

it's flint and steel, the way he sparks. the air literally leaves my lungs when Matthew grabs my hips and spins me around to face him. my lips part as I peer up at him, at the lust that now darkens those hazel eyes and the way he holds mine. his touch is certain. he pulls our bodies together, tilts my chin up to kiss me.

it's passionate, strong, the kind of kiss that causes me to lean back a bit just to receive the full force of his desire. but I return the affection easily, moaning into his mouth. I've never been held the way that Matthew holds me. like I'm made of sugar glass, like he wants desperately to feel the soft give of my skin and make a home of me.

the heat between our bodies is almost overwhelming, and I sigh when he subtly pushes our hips together. his erection is against my stomach.

"fuck." I mutter when I pull away for air. Matthew doesn't stop his perfect movements, though, tugging my earlobe between his teeth and starting to leave love bites up my skin and over my shoulder. he chuckles against my throat. I shiver.

"you alright, little girl?" he asks.

"just--" I let out a moan at the sensation of his fingers exploring my bare waist. he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. "just surprised."

"about?" he slides the straps down my shoulders and looks me in the eye. the lack of physical contact makes me whine.

"that you want me."

"how is that surprising?" he smiles, using one index finger to guide me to look at him.

"you don't seem like it."

Matthew raises his eyebrows as if I'm a crazy person. truly dumbstruck. "what?"

"you-- well, I don't know." I frown, but Matthew takes my hand and moves it over his torso until my palm is resting over the considerable bulge in his pants.

"is this enough proof?"

I struggle for words, sputtering. "yeah-- yeah, it is."

he bucks into my hand a little and I bite my lip, eyes moving up to meet his. something passes between us that I don't fully understand, but feel in my bones. I have never, in my life, wanted someone to fuck me as much as I want Matthew to fuck me right now. my jaw clenches.

"I need you." I tell him like this is the most relevant piece of information that will ever pass between us. he smirks.

"yeah?"

"mhmm."

"then lean against the wall and let me give you what you deserve." he orders. for a second, I try to think through what he means. then I look behind me at the open space and back up, him following me closely. his hands move up to cup my breasts, kneading and tweaking my nipples as he kisses my lips. the coolness against my back causes me to gasp, and he swallows the sound with his tongue before moving down my body.

he's torturously slow, taking one of my nipples into his mouth while he shrugs off his suit jacket. he switches to my other peak, one hand splayed over my stomach, and then proceeds southward with his lips. his kisses are delicate, open-mouthed, as they find their way to the waistband of my panties.

he hooks his fingers in them and looks up at me.

"can I eat you out, baby?" he asks. I bite my lip.

"please." like a beg.

"oh, you're polite tonight." he smirks, tugging the garment down my legs and discarding it somewhere in the room. I don't respond, and he doesn't seem to need me to, because he pushes one leg up for better access to my pussy. "let's see if it lasts."

my back curves off of the wall involuntarily when he holds the flat of his tongue against my clit suddenly, trying to roll my hips against his face. my fingers tangle in his hair, one leg resting over his shoulder.

he starts to flick at my clit. I lose grasp of my own language.

"Matthew, that feels so good, I--"

he attaches himself to my bundle of nerves, seemingly turned on by the sounds I'm making for him. he groans as he laps at the wetness between my legs, dipping into my folds and sucking the soul out of me. I whine and use his curls as leverage to gain more friction. he peers up at me.

"needy little girl." he mumbles against my pussy. I shove him back into me.

"make me cum, then." I beg. I can practically feel the devilish smirk on his face as he devours me like he'll never get enough. every twist and lick of his tongue is sending me to new places. I'm panting, chest heaving, while I grab my own tits and buck into his mouth.

he moans. my orgasm hits me like a wave, causing me to nearly thrash with pleasure as I cry out.

"Matthew, keep going, fuck yes!" I feel tears prick the back of my eyes, the culmination almost too much to bear as we hold contact. he stares into my fucking soul as he eats me out, and I want to stay like this forever. it's hard to support myself with my legs going weak, but I love it. the sensations are otherworldly. it's only when I'm about to collapse that I push his face away from me.

"I love your pussy." he tells me, licking his lips as he sets my legs down. I grin and let my head fall back against the wall.

"thanks."

"come here, princess." he takes hold of my hips and guides me over to the mirror, turning me so that he's standing behind my frame. the pet name causes me to smile.

"what?" I reference our reflection. he stares at me, reaching around to squeeze my tits.

"I wanna fuck you in the mirror." such a vulgar thing, said so beautifully. he kisses my cheek. "if that's okay with you."

"I don't care what position we do as long as you're fucking me." I breathe honestly. he chuckles and draws me towards him so his clothed boner is against my ass. I reach behind and work the button on his pants. he undoes the ones on his shirt. we're silent, him watching my naked body move like he's trying to memorize every detail.

when he's finally stripped, he lets me stroke his cock for a couple moments before pushing my upper back forward so I'm holding onto the sides of the mirror. I see him biting his lip as he lines himself up at my entrance.

"you ready?" he checks. I nod and he smiles at me once. pushing in, the smile melts into a jaw-dropped haze, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Y/N..."

"it's so big." I try to breathe. he's so deep, I grip the mirror until my knuckles turn white. he's going to snap my body in two with the angle of his cock, filling me easily.

"tight little thing." he grunts as he holds himself inside. I can only watch in shock as I try to adjust to the sheer feeling of him. Matthew runs his hands over my sides, my ass, touching whatever he can. "how's that?"

I start to wiggle my hips and he groans at the feeling of my walls desperately swallowing him up. "Matthew, I need it."

"need what?" he thrusts into me and I have to fight a scream.

"need you."

"fuck... yes." he hisses out, sliding into me. "you're so wet I don't even need to try."

I bite my lip to withhold my sounds and he stares me in the eyes in the mirror as he starts to fuck me harder, building a pace with his hips. he growls a little if he hits certain angles, getting ruthless.

"so many times when I wanted to be inside you, princess..." he trails off. I start to play with my clit with one hand, using the other to stabilize myself with the mirror. the idea turns me on.

"when?"

"whenever you have attitude," he pants. "tonight, in that innocent fucking dress. making me wanna pound you like a little slut."

I make a high-pitched sound at the shudder of pleasure that jolts through my stomach at his words, wanting more. I've never heard him talk this way before.

"Matthew, shit--" I rub myself in circles, caught between watching his face and watching the way his hips slam into mine.

"you're begging to be fucked, you know that?"

"am I?" I smile sweetly in the mirror. we're in our own world, locked in a fantasy that I never want to leave. I can feel him in every corner of my body, sinking beneath my skin. he digs his nails into my ass.

"mhmm." he hums. I can feel the familiar weight in my stomach that indicates how close I'm getting. a knot that screams to be undone by his perfect length. I would do anything for more of this. I can taste everything good in the world on my tongue.

"I'm so close." I whine.

"I can tell," he studies my face in the mirror. "so pretty when you're breaking."

"oh--" I feel my thighs tense and my body pulses, the euphoria almost overwhelming. we move steadily, rhythmically, and he pushes my climax to new levels. "faster." I cry.

Matthew is quick to respond, gripping me closer while he plows into me like he's never going to have my body again. the sound of it is filthy, perfect, a mess. he groans at the sensation of my cunt pulsating around his cock.

"cum for me, princess." he moans, losing himself in the embrace of my core. the foggy stare in his eyes is like drowning in the ocean. I sink below, not caring at all about the consequences of him inside me. fuck working together; I need him. "where should I cum?"

"in me." I groan.

"beg." he commands easily, watching my face contort in pleasure. I could pretend to fight it, to give a little attitude, but I don't want to. I love begging for him.

"fill me up, Matthew. please." each word punctuated by the breathlessness of my voice. he gets even more ferocious with me, beating up my pussy until I'm sure he's going to leave me sore.

"right there, right there," he gasps, hitting the same spot that makes me go cross-eyed. "such a good little slut."

his cum shoots into me, deep and warm and erotically twisted, and I nearly collapse. it feels weird, but so good at the same time. full. he groans out my name and withdraws, quick to grab my shoulders and hold me up as I almost fall. I hadn't realized that most of my body weight was supported purely by his thrusts.

"whoa." he lets out a tired laugh, gentle in his touch. I'm heaving air into my lungs.

"sorry." I apologize, my body unstable.

"are you okay?" he seems genuinely concerned and I nod.

"yeah, I'm fine. just a little overwhelmed."

"here," he scoops me into his arms and brings me over to the old love seat in the dressing room, laying his jacket down before putting me on top of it. "can I get you something?"

"Sprite." I gesture to the glass on the vanity, and he smiles as he goes to get it. I gulp down whatever remains of it. "thanks."

"of course." he keeps glancing at my face and the red marks on my hips where he was clutching me like a lifeline. "I'm sorry."

"what?" I set the cup down. "don't ever be sorry for fucking me like that."

"no, I meant--" he laughs, but then he sees my playful expression and realizes that I'm genuinely alright. I think my legs were asleep.

"you're a saint." I tell him. he frowns and shakes his head bashfully. I'm already getting up and collecting my clothes. "or maybe what we just did prevents you from reaching sainthood. I don't know."

he places his hand on my lower back, kisses my forehead tenderly.

"seriously. you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I assure him. "but I would be better with a milkshake."

Matthew breaks into a slow grin, staring at me like I've done something miraculous.

"how are you so perfect?"

[pascalpanic]

Begin Again (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Inspo: Begin Again by Adam Melchor

Summary: Dating apps never pair you with the right people. Until you come across the profile of a handsome, pancake loving FBI agent named Marcus.

W/C: 4.8k

Warnings: lots of talk of food, language, late night deep conversations, some sadness at the end but nothing intense? reader has a pet cat, is that worth a warning? idk

A/N: HI GUYS this is my first full length Marcus Pike fic! I really hope you like it!! thank you so much to @theteddylupinexperience and @sanchosammy for being my best editors and proofreaders and idea givers!!!

note: PLS listen to the song before/after/while reading! it’s one of my favs and it really goes along with the story

Over the course of your adult years, you’ve become convinced that dating apps are complete and utter bullshit. The algorithms never work right, never pair you or any of your friends with anyone worth seeing in person. Maybe that’s just the problem; maybe it’s not the apps but the people. Whatever the answer is, whatever reason you’ve never found success in the endless swiping, you’re through with it.

That was before last week. The rainy Tuesday night left you in your apartment, alone, to succumb to the cold spring dreariness. Over a cup of hot tea, you’d downloaded the app again. Might as well try, right? You have nothing to lose. If worst comes to worst, catfishing an annoying guy is always a blast. The good news is that this app requires you as the woman to make the first move. That’s kind of a downside- you never know how to start conversations- but at least you can’t get unsolicited dick pics right off the bats. Life is full of tradeoffs, you suppose.

You begin again. The app becomes your favorite pastime. Bored at work or home? Dating app it is. Left. Left. Left. Boring man after boring man. One labeled himself super-straight: absolutely fucking not. One holding a fish: nope. A man who describes himself as a gym rat: not your type. It’s a boring way to spend your lunch break, you’re aware, but the entertainment value is fun if nothing else. There are a lot of strange men out there.

After a few days, your luck seems to turn around as the photo of a man with brown hair and warm brown eyes pops up on your screen. He has a scruffy beard and wavy hair, and the way his smile tugs at the corner of his lips makes your heart flutter. He’s really cute, you have to admit. You read the bio next.

Marcus, 35

❗️ Washington, D.C.

Got forced into making this, but optimistic. Lover of art, dogs, and time to relax. Always down for breakfast for dinner and cuddling. Looking for someone with a sense of independence, love of travel, and a sleep schedule equally fucked up as mine. Must love pancakes.

Must love pancakes. That’s absolutely adorable. You immediately think of your cat, named Pancake, and you laugh and swipe right, hoping the man already thought the same of you. Your eyes widen with excitement and you almost laugh out loud from your giddy state when you see the little logo indicating it’s a match.

The first message you send him has to be perfect. You ponder your options for a minute, frowning and furrowing your brow as you think. You don’t want to come on too strong; you’re not trying to sound like you want a hookup. A simple one-word greeting wouldn’t be enough.

You could comment on something from his bio, you realize as you read it again and again. Maybe ask him about his dog? No, that’s too awkward. You want it to be about him, something that can draw him in. Talk about traveling? No, you don’t want to sound like you’re bragging about the places you’ve gone in your life.

Pancakes. Pancakes are good. You love pancakes. You think for a second more, debating what to say, before inspiration strikes and you send off the message before you can stop yourself.

-

Marcus Pike has essentially felt the same as you. He’s a somewhat charming man. He’s had his fair share of relationships, but they never quite work out. His ex-wife, now long gone and blocked from his phone, was an absolute failure of a relationship. He’d gotten close to what felt like true love with Teresa, another FBI agent, but she flaked at the last second.

Maybe the constant here was that he met them in person. When Marcus falls, he falls hard and fast, down an endless spiral of emotions with no escape. Maybe if he met someone online, it would be different. His best friends had all encouraged it, and on a night out not long after Teresa left him, Pike set up his own profile. He liked that the app didn’t require him to make the first move. It’s refreshing.

Marcus had seen your profile hours ago, on a mindless phone break from his work. He’d swiped right too, stunned by your smile and the lovelines you radiated even through the phone. He crossed his fingers for a good part of the day, hoping you’d swipe right on him too.

His day is busy, leaving him no time to fiddle with his phone and distract himself. He eats in the cafeteria, checking up on his phone. After lunch, he’s walking back to his office when his heart flutters as he sees the dating app indicates he’s had a match. He looks at it and swallows hard before stopping, moving to the side of the hallway to allow others to pass. He’s breathing hard, and his heart speeds up when he sees that you are the one that matched with him.

He knows how this app works. He has to wait now, to let you make the first move. He can’t even write a message until you send one. So he pockets his phone again and continues on his walk.

He’s determined on his walk, rushing back to his desk so he can sit and be thoroughly enthralled in waiting for or receiving your response. His phone buzzes several times with notifications, one of which he prays is you. When he finally sits, he opens the app ceremoniously and has to hold back a genuine laugh when he sees your first message.

Blueberry or chocolate chip?

Marcus shoots back a text nearly immediately. Sorry, what?

Your bio. “Must love pancakes”. Blueberry or chocolate chip?

Marcus is absolutely beaming as he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. Blueberry. Always. I hope that’s the right answer :)

Unfortunately, it’s not, but you’re cute so I’ll let it slide

You called him cute. It makes Marcus’s heart flutter. Come on. There’s nothing like the warm blueberry popping in your mouth.

There is. It’s when the chocolate chips are all melty and creamy.

God, Marcus is already painfully into you. You know what… at least you love pancakes. I’ll let it slide. You got a favorite place?

Anywhere I can get ‘em. You seem like quite the connoisseur, do you have one place in mind?

Jane slams down a stack of files on Marcus’s desk. “Paperwork overflow, Pike. Can you get these done tonight?”

Marcus is the fastest in the office with paperwork, which often leads to him being the one that flies through the files in the place of the people who actually filed it. He nods. What else is there to do? “Sure.”

Jane claps him on the shoulder and wanders off. Marcus watches him in slight annoyance. The best place in D.C. is definitely Sandy’s. Hey I gotta go, text ya later?

I’d love that :)

-

It didn’t take long for your texting to move from the dating app to actual texting. It happened within the same day, in fact.

Marcus messaged you some hours after the initial conversation. Your phone buzzed while you were doing yoga in your apartment, your cat curled into a ball beneath your stomach as you held a downward dog. You nearly collapsed on top of Pancake as you fumbled to sit cross-legged on the end of your yoga mat.

The message from Marcus is bright on the top of your screen. Hi. Sorry that took so long. Work stuff.

Smiling, you take a swig from your water bottle and lean back against your couch. Not a problem. Understandable. What do you do for a living? It’s a loaded question in D.C.; they could range anywhere from politicians to their rich sons to artists and athletes.

I work for the FBI, actually.

Your eyes light up in excitement. That’s the coolest shit I’ve heard. What do you do? Are you an agent?

The man’s responses don’t take long at all. He must be waiting in the chat to respond. The idea makes your heart flutter. Yep, I’m an agent. I work in international art crimes.

You certainly didn’t expect that for an answer. Wow, okay, that’s even cooler than I thought. I was about to call you Agent Pancake but I think my girl would be disheartened...

Snapping a photo of the way Pancake is nuzzling into your side, meowing for snuggles, you have to laugh as you send the photo his way. Funny you love pancakes so much. This little muppet is named Pancake.

Marcus responds with a barrage of heart-eyes emojis, which makes you laugh aloud and scoop Pancake into your lap, stroking her strawberry-blonde fluff. She’s an absolute angel. Like her mother, I’m presuming.

Your cheeks flood with warmth and you can feel the tips of your ears turning hot too. You’ve never even met me, Agent…? You trail off the text, asking for his last name.

Pike.

Agent Marcus Pike. What a nice sounding name. It sounds official and strong and you really like it. Cute last name. Might steal it from ya someday ;)

You don’t normally flirt this shamelessly, but he’s so goddamn cute and funny. You cross your fingers behind your back that this isn’t just a facade, that this is Marcus himself texting like he would to anyone else. You got a phone number?

As you laugh, Pancake paws at your chest to grab your attention, nails nearly digging into the stretchy fabric of your yoga tank top. “Watch it,” you scold her softly and remove her paw from your chest, picking her up and giving her a kiss on the head. Sure do. You want it?

Yes please.

You send your number his way and moments later, your phone pings with a text from an unlabeled number.

Maybe: Pike: hey, it’s Pike :)

You: hey… dammit, I really want to call you Agent Pancakes, but I think my fluffy little heathen would be offended. I don’t know what to save you in my phone as...

Agent Pancakes: Save me as whatever, I suppose. Not my problem, right?

-

The texts became more frequent. Over the course of three weeks, you’d stay up late talking like teenagers, knowing you need to go to bed but unable to bring yourself to do it.

You learned that his middle name was Mauricio, that his mother wanted him to have at least something a little more Latino in his name. You told him the story of how you’d adopted Pancake as a kitten from a shelter and she woke you up one morning with her claws entwined in a snarl of your hair. He told you about his ex-wife and ex-fiancée, Teresa, and you responded that he deserved something better than that. You can already tell that he’s a good man.

At the end of three weeks, you shot Marcus a text. Things seemed to be going pretty well.

You: Hey, you want to do a video call sometime soon?

Agent Pancakes: I’d love that! I’m free tonight if you are.

You: Always free. Shouldn’t you know that?? Doesn’t the FBI spy on us through our phones and whatever?

Agent Pancakes: well, I do work in art crimes. Even if we did, it would be a totally different thing

You: Good.

An hour later, you fidget with your hands as you sit on your couch, the laptop propped up across from you and ringing for a video chat. Marcus’s profile picture bobs on the screen as you wait for him to pick up.

Marcus’s face and apartment fills your screen, and you automatically grin. “Hi,” you giggle and wave, absolutely enraptured by how cute his real smile is, not the forced one in the photos.

“Hey. Nice to kind of-finally meet you,” he tells you and waves back. The wall of his apartment is nothing exciting, but his facial expressions already have you falling. Those big brown eyes compliment natural but ridiculously pink lips, and his brown hair is neatly done. It looks like he’s wearing a tie and a dress shirt; probably his work gear, you suppose.

“You too!” You tell him, unable to stop smiling. “You shaved.”

-

Marcus’s heart jumps out of his chest when he sees you ringing him. He barely has time to flop on the couch and turn it on, propping up the camera across from him.

God, you’re so gorgeous. Your giggle is infectious, making Marcus laugh softly at god knows what. Your grin is equally as contagious, making him smile back. He rubs his jaw in response. “Yeah, yeah. I tend to keep it clean there. Stubble takes too much maintenance, and I have this little patch where it never quite grows,” he tells you as he juts his chin to the camera, touching the spot where his beard can’t grow.

“I like it either way,” you assure him, shrugging a little. “How was your day, Agent Pancakes?” Your voice is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard, even with the granulated audio over this shitty app. Agent Pancakes makes his heart flutter. “No, not you!” You groan as Pancake climbs onto your lap. “Hi. Your twin wants to say hi.”

Marcus’s smile widens. “Oh my god, hello cutie pie,” he chuckles, launching into baby talk. “What a pretty girl. You make a good Pancake.”

You smile and rub her fur, grinning. “She’s my baby,” you chuckle and set her aside. “Yeah. I’m busy. Leave me alone.” Pancake meows in protest. “Shut up, I’m on a date,” you whine.

Marcus’s ears perk up. “This is a date?”

Your eyes widen as you turn back to him. “I… yeah?” You ask, wincing a little.

He grins back at you. “I like it. And I’m really in love with the idea of seeing your face when you talk.”

“I like your voice,” you flirt back, but you mean it. “It’s so pretty. Do you sing?” You ask mindlessly, studying the way his brow furrows and his eyes convey exactly what he’s thinking.

He chuckles softly. “I used to. I haven’t in a long long time.”

“You’ll have to sing for me sometime.”

When he shakes his head, his neatly gelled hair tries to break free. A strand does, falling in his face. “You don’t wanna hear it, I promise.” He removes his tie, and you can’t help but watch the movement. It’s incredibly sexy.

A mischievous smile makes you bite the inside of your cheek. “No, I really do, I really think I do.”

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Only if you try the pancakes at Sandy’s sometime. I promise you, they’re the best pancakes in the District. I’ve never had the chocolate chip pancakes, but if they’re anywhere near as good as the blueberry, they’re fantastic. And they’re open 24 hours. I go there a lot for late night case work.”

You smile at that, getting cozy on your couch and hugging your blanket. “That does sound nice. I love a good all day breakfast,” you say with raised eyebrows, the teasing in your voice. “Okay, human Pancakes. How was your day?” You ask him again, intent on hearing his answer. Not only is his job fascinating, but he’s adorable when he explains things.

Marcus frowns, and that makes you instinctively frown too. “Well, it’s been good. We’re tracking a huge smuggling ring right now, but since we’ve pinpointed a stock house for them, I might have to travel for a while.”

You frown. You’d been hoping you could have a real date soon, at least. “How long is a while?” You ask him curiously, sipping from your water bottle that sits next to you.

“Couple weeks. No less than a month, probably. I’d… well, I might have to go undercover, which means we couldn’t talk for a while.” His eyes are apologetic, showing that he hates this news as much as you do. “And… I’d leave maybe tomorrow or the day after.”

Your heart sinks. “So soon,” you say with a sad smile, a desperate and lonely chuckle. “Well, if you want to come home to me, I’ll be here.”

Marcus’s smile perks up just slightly. “You would be the best thing in the world to come home to. And I’ll have the scruff back by then.”

“Yes!” You exclaim and laugh, pumping a fist in the air. “I think you’re really cute anyway, but I really love the scruff,” you shrug shyly.

“Maybe I’ll grow it out just for you.”

-

The adrenaline from his first technical-date with you prevents Marcus from sleeping. The call lasted hours, the two of you covering almost everything important in your lives. You talked about your favorite television programs and politics, your parents and your favorite pizza toppings. Talking with him was like nothing you’d ever experience, a connection you’d never thought a dating app could offer.

After several hours, during a lull in the conversation, Marcus suggested the two of you log off. It was around 11 P.M. now, and, even though Marcus has a sleep schedule like a raccoon, he figured you should sleep. He blew you a kiss through the camera, which you pretended to hold to your chest and grin at him.

But now it’s an hour later, just past midnight, and Marcus is antsy. He doesn’t sleep much anyway, but your face is running through his mind like it owns the place, and at this point, maybe you do. Marcus sits up in bed and sighs. He knows the proper remedy for this: Sandy’s. Throwing on a rare pair of jeans and a leather jacket over the white v-neck he wears, he slips on his shoes and makes his way to the tiny, 24-hour diner.

-

The adrenaline is coursing through your veins too. You text any of your friends that will listen, rambling about how beautiful Marcus’s face is and how wonderful it was to finally hear his voice. You pace your apartment, petting Pancake as you pass her perch on the arm of your couch. You try to do a little yoga to calm down but you can’t stop smiling. Marcus occupies too much room in your brain to try to think about anything else.

When it’s just after midnight, hunger strikes. You realize you never ate dinner, too preoccupied with talking to the handsome man to even consider microwaving something from your fridge. Talking with Marcus has instilled you with a love for pancakes, and you think to yourself that maybe Sandy’s would be worth a shot. It’s open late.

So you toss on a jacket and pick up your purse, slinging it over your shoulder and leaving your apartment. You toss the book you’ve been reading into your bag, planning to read it while you sit and eat. Pancake gives a sleepy meow of protest but you just smile and lock the door behind you.

The diner is just as small as Marcus described it to you: just a short line of booths along the windows and a smattering of tables in the middle. There’s a colorful, warm-toned tile floor that juxtaposes the warm green of the walls and the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes wafting through the air. Quiet classic swing music filling the atmosphere. You can see why he likes it: it automatically makes you smile.

You sit in one of the booths, facing away from the door, and the kind waitress takes your order: chocolate chip pancakes and an English breakfast tea. The air conditioning is blasting, making you chilly. You tighten your jacket around yourself and sip the tea when it arrives, adding cream and sugar.

Cracking open the book, you cross your legs and lose yourself in the book. The restaurant has a calming aura, and you can feel the tea warming you from the inside. It’s fitting that Marcus loves this place, you think to yourself.

When the pancakes come not long after, you take a bite and almost groan in happiness. It’s absolutely delicious: Marcus was most definitely right. Disappointingly, you have to go to the bathroom about three bites in.

Even the bathrooms are cute, you discover. When you return, someone else sits a booth away,  another lone diner at this godforsaken hour of night, facing the door. You can see the back of what appears to be a man’s head, neatly trimmed brown hair and a brown leather jacket over their neck and shoulders. Sitting back down, your back to the other customer’s, you return to your book and continue to eat your chocolate chip pancakes.

The customer and waitress are talking, but you don’t pay much attention, too enraptured by your book. It’s quiet again after the man puts in his order, and you enjoy the soft jazz music that makes you tap your foot in time against the tile.

There’s a buzzing and the melodic sound of a phone’s ringtone; one of the defaults that a phone provides. Your heart skips a beat as you hear the man pick up. “Agent Pike.”

That can’t be your Agent Pike, can it? You turn and listen and realize it’s definitely him, from his voice and the way he holds himself and the stack of- of course, blueberry pancakes and a hot coffee set in front of him.

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Sounds good. Let me write that down.” Marcus types something into his phone. “See you then. At the office? Good. Alright, see you.” He hangs up.

Standing, you tuck your book back in your purse and put the bag over your shoulder. With one hand, you grab your plate of pancakes, and the other grabs your tea. You set them down across from him and slide into the booth, grinning. “Huh. Agent Pancakes, here, in the middle of the night. How unusual.”

Marcus’s tired face lights up in excitement. “What?” He laughs, his eyes scanning your face. “Why are you here?”

You shrug and take a bite of his pancakes, sighing. “Had to see if they were worth the hype. I couldn’t sleep, you got me so excited.” The blueberry pancakes are absolutely fantastic, just as good if not better than the chocolate chip ones on your plate. “Damn, you were right.”

“Hey,” he laughs and pulls his plate closer to his chest. “Don’t touch my pancakes.”

You make pleading pouty eyes, frowning a little. “Can’t we share?” You tease. It already feels like you’ve known him for years, even though this is your first time seeing him in person.

Marcus sighs. “I suppose,” he says and rolls his eyes in sarcasm, pushing his plate back out so you can access it.

-

Marcus is beyond stunned, absolutely enraptured in how beautiful you are in person. If he thought he fell on that video call earlier, he’s now reached the very bottom of that cliff, the impact of your everything stealing the air from his lungs. God, he wants nothing more than to kiss you right now, on those lips coated in blueberry juice and maple syrup.

The two of you spend quite some time so there, just talking and continuing the conversation where it left off before. The waitress refills Marcus’s coffee twice and your tea once. “So who called you when you were sitting alone?” You ask him as you bring the white porcelain mug to your lips, sipping at the creamy tea.

He sighs. “Guy I work with, his name’s Patrick. He’s a douchebag, I can’t lie,” he says with a chuckle, and his heart flutters at the way you give a soft laugh back. “Just telling me the details. I leave in about 6 hours. I’ll be in Singapore for a couple of weeks.”

“Singapore?” You exclaim, eyes wide as your fork clanks against your plate. “You better be able to contact me.”

He shakes his head. “I told you, I’m going undercover. I can’t.” He sighs, and he dares to reach out and touch you, to reassure you that he’s there and himself that you’re real, that you’re right there. “Will you wait for me?”

Your heart melts, from an already slush-covered river to a rushing rapids. “Of course, Marcus.” It makes his heart skip a beat. You’ve called him lots of nicknames, but never his real name. Something is painfully intimate about it. “I like you a lot; why wouldn’t I?” You ask, shrugging as if it’s the simplest thing. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

When you finish your meals, Marcus picks up both tabs, despite your protesting. “Can I walk you to your place?” He asks as you both stand and adjust your jackets.

You nod and take his hand. The lights of the city are seemingly extra dim tonight, leaving the street lights to illuminate your beautiful face as the two of you stroll along. You have all the time in the world, don’t you? It’s 1:30 in the morning. You’re both already evading sleep desperately. A little more time together can’t hurt.

His hand never leaves yours, his fingers lacing through your knuckles. You chat quietly, as if you could wake the sleeping city from the peaceful blue drone of a weeknight morning into its daily splendor of horns and hordes of speedy pedestrians.

Marcus bumps your shoulder with his, making you stumble a little to the side and laugh as you look up at his gorgeous face. His face reflects the love you’re both feeling, almost giving the city around you a pink glaze of warmth from the rose-colored glasses you must have placed over his eyes.

The walk draws to an end, as you stand at the entrance to your apartment building. Marcus’s body looks so soft and inviting, and you dare to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him to your chest. “I don’t want you to go, Agent Pancakes,” you murmur into the soft skin of his neck, which is starting to get a shadow of stubble.

Marcus kisses the top of your head. He doesn’t move either, prolonging this time you have together before he can’t see you. “I don’t want to go. I’ve never wanted to stay here more than I do now, but I have to.” His arms wrap around your waist, strong and safe.

Lifting your head, you look up at him, your noses practically touching from the proximity you share. The world feels like a bubble around you two, like some impenetrable one-way material that makes it so if Marcus leaves now, he can never come back. “Well, it’s gonna be a long time, a month or two,” you say with a sad smile. “We’ll have to begin again.”

Marcus shakes his head, his brown eyes almost welling with tears. “There’s no one else I’d want to begin again with.” With that, he looks in your eyes, the question hanging there. Wait for me?

Always, you respond silently by pressing your lips to his, kissing him slowly in the orange glow of your apartment building’s entrance. He kisses back, his lips tasting of coffee and maple and blueberry, yours tasting like chocolate and tea.

You squeeze your arms tighter around him, getting on your tiptoes to be as physically close as you can to him. He has one hand on either side of your rib cage, holding you there as he kisses back with all of the passion and love he has.

It can’t last too long or he’ll never leave. He won’t be able to. He breaks away after a few moments, his lips close to yours. He presses your foreheads together, arms encircling you again. “I have to go. I have to be at the office in an hour.”

You lift your head and your brow furrows in confusion. “Then why did you take so long to walk and eat with me?” You laugh quietly.

Marcus shrugs. “Didn’t want to leave you yet,” he admits, his eyes trained on yours. He gives you one last painfully gentle kiss. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more,” you say with a sad smile. “You’ve been my distraction lately. Whenever I’m bored, I text you.”

He sighs, the confession increasing his frown. “I’ll be in an entirely new place, without you.”

“But I’ll be here, in my same old life without you in it.”

The words punch a hole through Marcus’s heart. It’s true; he’ll have new distractions, new things to do. You’ll be here with a Marcus Pike-shaped hole in your heart. He kisses your forehead, the wheels turning in his head. “If you get a call in the next few weeks from an unknown number, be sure to answer it, okay?”

You nod and smile softly. “You need to go. Go.”

He nods and his hand squeezes yours. “I can’t wait to begin again with you.” With that, Marcus Pike, Agent Pancakes, whatever you want to call him, the man you’re highly suspecting might be your soulmate, walks off into the slightly chilly D.C. night.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic

[egcdeath]

checkmate

summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)

pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;) 

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics  *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!

author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me. 

okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D

“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.

For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in. 

You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there. 

And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.

From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy. 

Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise. 

This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was. 

You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).

Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy. 

You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now. 

To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what. 

It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.

You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup. 

You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another. 

——

It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.

Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.

“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you. 

“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.

Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”

You huffed in response.

Of fucking course.

“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”

Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side. 

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent. 

Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t. 

After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale. 

——

You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you. 

You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.

It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries. 

You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.

You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.

Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.

You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared. 

You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper. 

With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.

----

 The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home. 

Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.

Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.

Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance. 

You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.

“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.

Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”

His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.

“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell. 

You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious. 

You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.

“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.

“I’m going back home,” you whispered.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.

You shook your head, “I am.”

“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.

This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”

You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”

Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.” 

You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat. 

9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.

You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.

As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.

You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.

Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case. 

“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you. 

“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.

“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times. 

He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”

Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm. 

As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall. 

“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat. 

You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.

“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”

You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.

He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…” 

You nodded again. 

“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”

“Surprise?” you said weakly. 

“You’re a psychotic bitch.”

“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted. 

“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”

You didn’t even have to respond.

“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”

“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”

“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”

Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”

“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!” 

“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”

“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”

“I asked if it’s even mine.”

“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”

“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.

“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.

“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”

Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.

“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”

Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement. 

“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of  “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less. 

You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless. 

You finally won.