#everybody’s straight till they meet dick

[wellensittich01]

Dick Grayson is his universes Ryan Reynolds when it comes to making straight men question their sexuality.

[spite-and-waffles]

Transcript and video description:

(All roles are played by thepandaredd)

Jason (identified by red beanie and anger issues): *yelling in outrage* "Oh my god, you fucking traitor!"

Steph (identified by purple jacket): "Oh, come on, Jason, it's not that bad."

Jason: "Not that bad? I can't believe I even trusted you!!"

Steph: *placating* "Seriously, this changes nothing."

Jason: "This changes absolutely everything!!"

Duke (identified by large dark glasses) enters the room hesitantly.

Duke: "Hey guys. Uh, what's going on? I heard some yelling."

Jason: "–going on is that Stephanie has no fucking loyalty!"

Steph: *exasperated* "Don't listen to him, he's overreacting."

Duke: "Uh, Jason? What– what happened, what's going on?"

Jason: *mocks Stephanie in outrage, eyes bulging* "Muhwuhmuhacting!" *turns to Duke, sarcastic* "–okay, alright yeah. Okay, I'm overeacting. I walked in here and you know wanna know what I heard her listening to?"

Duke: *looks at her for a beat. Looks at Jason in dawning horror* "No...."

Jason: *hisses* "Tupac."

Duke: *gasps*

Stephanie: "Not you too!"

Duke: *clutching heart* "This is a serious offence, Stephanie! We are the three Gotham natives in this house – we are East Side till we die!"

Jason: "Absolutely, we're even East Side after that!"

Duke: "Hell yeah!" *high fives Jason, both glaring at Steph*

Steph: "I have as much hometown pride as either of you, but come on, seriously. It's just music!"

Duke: *at Jason in disbelief* "Did–did she just say this is just music??"

Jason: "Holy shit, do not fuck around and make me give you the Tim Drake Special, Stephanie!"

Tim (seated at the desk working on his tablet): *looks up removing an earbud* "Oh–what's that? I think I heard my name...something happening?"

Steph: *dismissively* "Don't worry, Jason just made a veiled threat that he's going to stab me in the chest with a batarang and then tag the walls with my blood."

Tim: *in mild surprise* "Oh shit, is it Thursday already?"

Jason: *rounding on him* "What're you even listening to? I need to make sure that everybody else in this house isn't a TRAITOR!"

Tim looks down at his tablet. It's open to YouTube video titled "Deep layered brown noise (12 hours)" on the channel crysknife007. Top comment says: "this is the sound when you're driving back home, everyone is tired and it's just the sound of the car."

Tim looks up.

Jason, gestures aggressively like "Well??" Tim hesitates.

Tim: "Biggie. Big Papa, actually–" *turns back to tablet intoning* "–Gotham pride go Knights."

Jason: "Hah! Hahaha! I fuckin knew it!"

Tim: *absently* "Damn straight." *meets Jason's high five without looking up*

Steph: *indignant* "Tim, I've lived with you. I know goddamn well you're playing 12 hours of brown noise over there."

Tim: *takes off earbuds* "Okay, first of all, how dare you."

Damian (identified by only the top of his head being visible): "I swear you are all children. Why won't you listen to something that'll actually help you later in life, like Beethoven or Mozart?"

Jason: *sneer* "Grow the fuck up, grandpa, nobody asked your Benjamin Button ass."

Duke: *pauses, turning to Jason quizzically* "How the fuck do you know what Benjamin Button is?"

Jason: *distracted mutter* "Tim's been helping catch me up on the movies I missed while I was dead."

Duke: *incredulous* "And you started with Benjamin Button?"

Tim: "Thought he could relate to sounding like a 45 year old when he was 20."

Jason: *distracted* "Yeah–" *stops* "Hey!" *glares at Tim*

Dick, entering hurriedly: "Guys, guys! Can we calm down? Everyone has different music tastes – that's perfectly okay!"

Jason: "Of course, you'd fucking say that, Richard, I watched you train for thirty fucking minutes yesterday listening to the clean version of the Top 40 playlist!"

Dick: *instantly riled* "It's a curated playlist! I didn't create it, pop is super easy to do gymnastics to, I didn't fucking pick the clean version!!"

Cut to other side of the door, the cacophony of loud indistinct yelling muffled through it.

Alfred: "Hmpf. Children."

Alfred puts in his earbuds and turns them on. The muffled sound of loud death metal emanates from them as he starts vacuuming.

[stylessupremacy]

Do You Believe In Fate? 

Prompt: Harry, the ruthless CEO, doesn't believe in fate. Yet when he meets Y/n, he starts to think differently and believe he has a chance at a love that he never thought was possible.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Mentions of possible rape, Language, & Smut

If you liked this piece please reblog, recommend, like, and talk to me about this piece! This is what motivates and makes me want to write! :)

-

Y/n could kick herself in the ass. She was late for work again this week. From the constant working to pay off her college debt, to the late hours she stays up and studies to pass her classes - being exhausted was an understatement.

Y/n was studying to be a clothing designer. She has always enjoyed fashion even if she never had the best clothing. Most clothing she had would get thrown away or lost due to her always switching from one foster house to another.

When she finally turned eighteen, she managed to live with her friend till she could get up and on her feet. She worked for two years which allowed her enough time to save up for an apartment and pay for a little bit of her college education. Being in student debt wasn’t fun by any means, but Y/n felt bad for relying on her friend and her parents to provide for her.

The odds were against her favor today. As she quickly maneuvered her way through the sea of people Y/n seemed to hit every single crosswalk at the wrong time.

As she checked both ways to make sure there weren't any cars coming, Y/n took a step out onto the busy streets just to be quickly pulled back and hit the thing - or person - that pulled her back.

Y/n watched as a car whizzed by honking their horn at her, in return, she flipped them off. She must have overlooked the car, mistaking it for a parked car on the side of the street.

Gathering herself and turning around to thank the person who saved her life, Y/n was met with a stone-cold face. “Thank you for not letting me turn into a flapjack,” Y/n lightly chuckled, taking in the man in front of her.

He was wearing a crisp, clean suit. His face structure was beyond beautiful; defined jaw structure, puffy pink lips, a perfect nose, and the most fascinating green eyes. And his hair was out of this world, light brown, curly, and unruly.

Harry was late for work. He got back to his home around midnight last night. He was exhausted and tired. He got caught up in long overdue paperwork that needs to be done by the end of this month. Arriving home, he was so exhausted he didn’t even eat. He went straight to his room, discarded his clothes, and literally fell into bed from his tiredness.

Never setting an alarm, he didn’t wake up till his secretary was calling him asking if he had a meeting she didn’t know about. Tiredly he explained the situation, quickly got ready and was making his way to work.

As he was waiting for the crosswalk to switch, he watched as the girl in front of him was about to go. She obviously missed the car that was going well over the speed limit but stepped out onto the street nonetheless.

Harry quickly placed his hand on her shoulder and pulled her back making her hit his chest. He was in a pissed-off mood for already being late, but as everybody watch the poor girl almost get hit by a car and did nothing about it that made him even madder.

The man huffed - keeping his stone-cold exterior the same - “Be more careful next time and that won’t happen.” The crosswalk light must have changed because before Y/n could reply back he blended in as he walked with the rest of the crowd across the street leaving Y/n puzzled by his response.

Why would he be kind enough to save her, yet be a dick to her when she just tries to tell him thank you in a joking manner? Y/n shrugged it off and continued her fast walk or light jog to work.

As Y/n quickly rushed into the small restaurant, sending her boss and business owner an apologetic smile. “It’s fine. Just hurry up and get punched in,” the older woman waved off knowing the situation she was in and was very understanding about it.

-

Y/n’s shift finished at the restaurant and she quickly made her way over to the pub since she was waitressing tonight. Throughout her shift at the restaurant and walking over to the pub - she couldn’t stop thinking about the man who saved her. He was a breath of fresh air but an arrogant son of a bitch. But what bothered her the most was how mad he got her.

Since it was Friday evening, Y/n got to work straight away and started taking orders. She got to deal with flirty men who were drunk off their asses or the older men trying to hit on her. Most of the time those customers left a hefty tip which Y/n always appreciated, but she hated how she felt like she was using her body to help earn her money, even though she wasn’t.

Quickly serving a couple their mixed drinks and told them to holler at her if they needed anything. She quickly made her way over to the new customers that just walked in.

Y/n’s breath hitched as she saw the same man from earlier today who saved her. He was sitting at the table with two other men who were already looking at her up and down. All three of the men dressed to the max in expensive-looking suits.

“What can I get started for you guys?” Y/n asked pen and pad of paper at the ready. It wasn’t until she spoke that Harry looked up from the drink menu he was looking at. His stomach dropped straight to his ass.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her today. He was so fascinated with her the moment he laid eyes on her. He immediately regretted getting pissed off at her when she was just trying to tell him thank you but was too embarrassed to stick around after his outburst, so he took off before she could reply.

Y/n wrote down their order and turned to Harry who was now looking at her, “And what can I get you?” Harry cleared his throat, “A scotch please.” So he does have manners, Y/n thought to herself. She fulfilled their order and gave it to them, continuing on with her work shift.

Throughout her shift, she kept stealing glances over at the table filled with the three men. Noticing how the one from earlier didn’t really seem to be engaging in conversation with the other two, he seemed lost in thought or something was on his mind.

A deep clearing of somebody’s throat caught Y/n’s attention from where she was helping the bartender clean up by putting away the drinkware. Y/n looked up to see the man from earlier this morning.

Confused, she straightened up, “Can I help you?” She questioned, confusion written on her face. The group already paid their bill and his two other friends left, leaving him the only customer in the pub.

Not hearing or noticing the presence of the customer, the bartender spoke, “I’m going to go. Will you be alright closing up?” Y/n agreed knowing it wasn’t a big deal since she's done it before.

Watching the bartender leave, she turned her attention back to the mystery man. “I just wanted to apologize for the way I spoke to you earlier. There was no reason for me to respond like that and I’m sorry,” He spoke fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

Harry wasn’t sure why he felt nervous. He was actually quite the opposite of nervous all the time but something was fascinating about this girl in front of him. She made him nervous.

“It’s fine,” Y/n dismissed him quickly, finishing her task at hand without batting an eye at him. She made her way over to the tables and started to clean up. Noticing he was still standing there she turned around to face the mysterious man, “We’re closed now. So if you would mind leaving so I could finish up, I would greatly appreciate it.”

Shutting the door behind her and making sure it was locked Y.n was firmly pressed up against it. The man caught her wrist as she tried to push him off of her - he was much stronger than she was.

“Let go of me!” Y/n struggled underneath the man. “Just let me make you feel good,” the man slurred into her ear. The stench of alcohol coming out of his pores. “No! No, I don’t want this,” She spoke, getting worried as he started leaving wet sloppy kisses on her.

Continuing her struggle of getting the drunken man to let her go, she watched as a figure came up and slammed him to the ground. “Do you fucking not understand the word no? She clearly didn’t want you touching her,” the same voice from the pub rang through the air - the guy she just kicked out twenty minutes or so.

“What’s it matter to you,” the drunk slurred. “Because she didn’t consent to it. You forced yourself up onto her and when she told you no you didn’t budge. Women are not prey, they deserve respect. Clearly, you don’t know what that is.”

“People like you should be in jail.” With that final statement, he sent one swift punch to his face. Hearing a sickening crack and blood pour out of his nose, he didn’t give a flying fuck.

Y/n was astonished watching the man in front of her. Watching as he turned around, his eyes softened as they met hers, “Are you alright?” Y/n brushed herself off, “I was just fine. I didn’t need your help anyways.”

As she walked away she could hear his footsteps quickly jogging up to meet up with her. “Well it didn’t look like you were fine,” he quickly huffed out, getting slightly agitated with her. “I’ve dealt with people like that before and I could have again. Why were you even near the area? I kicked you out twenty minutes ago at least,” Y/n said continuing her walk along the dimly lit streets towards her apartment.

Shoving his hands in his pocket he shrugs, “Not really sure. I feel like a total prick for the way I spoke to you earlier so I wanted to stick around and talk to you.”

Harry knew deep down she was different from all the other girls. All the girls he hooked up with just wanted his sex or money, sometimes even both. Yet the girl in front of him didn’t force herself onto him like most.

-

“H- Harry, feels so good,” The girl moaned, gripping the sheets tighter as Harry pounded into her.

Harry kept pounding into the girl not really listening to her moans at all. He was just focusing on making himself feel good and forgetting about the stress he accumulated from work. It was hard and a lot of work being the CEO of the most well-known marketing firms and richest people alive.

Harry’s breath hitched and his thrusts became more inconsistent as the knot in his stomach grew stronger. The girl clenched around his cock and she came down from her high and that was just enough to send Harry over the edge.

While the girl was still laying in bed catching her breath from the best sex she ever had in her life - Harry was tieing the used condom and throwing it in the trash. “Where are you going?” The girl questions hazily - still a little dazed from their previous activities. Hastily buttoning his dress shirt he replies gruffly, “Going home.”

As he grabbed his suit jacket she spoke, “Same time tomorrow?” Harry just stared at her dumbfounded, “Of course not.” The girl gasped dramatically. Before she could even make a comeback, Harry swiftly shut the door on her not giving a fuck.

-

Harry never has had a relationship before. Everybody he's met has used him in some way or another. He’ll only give into it to take care of his needs in the bedroom.

Seeing how Y/n acted made him believe there are good people out there who won’t just use him to get his money. He was taking that chance with Y/n.

From the moment he laid eyes on her to the moment she made that corny joke, he knew deep down he wanted to give her a chance. “It’s really okay. You were probably late for work like I was,” she chuckled, a small smile tugging on her lips. “I’m Y/n, by the way,” she smiled. Harry gave a curt nod, “Harry.”

“So are you just going to follow me home so you can stalk me?” Y/n chuckled nervously. The atmosphere wasn’t awkward or anything, but it still wasn’t the most comfortable situation to be in.

Earning a chuckle from Harry, “Figured I may as well walk you home to make sure you're safe.” She chuckled, “Un huh, sure.” Harry’s laugh was contagious, she also may or may not have found it really adorable.

“Well this is my place,” Y/n said as she came up on her apartment number. As Harry walked her home they held conversation like they knew each other for years, when in reality they didn’t.

“Thanks for walking me home Harry. And for saving my ass as well,” she chuckled, “But I have to get going, I have to do some homework before I go to bed,” she chuckled.

“It’s no problem. I’ll see you around,” Harry spoke and gave a small nod.

He was acting like a teenager who thought a girl was cute. Damn straight he had a crush because she was the most breathtaking girl he's ever laid eyes on. He was majorly head over heels for her when he barely knew him for twenty-four hours.

The two bid their goodbyes - Y/n walked into her apartment and Harry made his way out of the apartment complex with a skip in his step and a boyish grin on his face.

As Harry walked home that night he thought of ways he could try and ask Y/n out on a date. He’s never been so over the moon with a girl before, but there was something about Y/n that sparked something inside of him.

He’s never felt this way before so he doesn’t know how he's supposed to act. He spent most of his night lying awake thinking about Y/n. He didn’t sleep much, not being able to get her off his mind.

-

Nerves ran through Harry as he approached Y/n’s apartment door. He doesn’t know why he's nervous - maybe it's because he was going to ask Y/n out on a date, or maybe it was because he hasn’t been on an actual date nor asked anybody out like this before.

Holding the bouquet of sunflowers in his left hand, he gently knocked on her door with his right. Harry waited for a response and took in the surroundings of where she lived.

Her apartment complex was long overdue for a needed touch-up. It made him wonder what the inside of her apartment looked like.

Not that he thought Y/n would keep it a mess but was it even safe to live in considering the outside of it? Plus her apartment complex wasn’t in the best neighborhood.

Receiving no answer he tried again, maybe Y/n didn’t hear him. His second attempt at knocking received no answer.

Hopping into his car, Harry went downtown to check the pub she was working at last night. She could possibly be working considering it was a Saturday and it can be a happening place downtown.

Parking in the street and looking through the pub’s glass windows, he could see Y/n waiting on a table. Her beautiful long locks were held back by the same sunflower clip she had in yesterday, she had rings and a few bracelets adoring her fingers and arms. Harry thought it added a nice touch to her flawless skin.

Leaving the flowers in the car, Harry made his way into the pub grabbing a seat at one of the empty high-top tables that sat two.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Y/n chirped once she spotted Harry. “What? Am I not allowed to come down to the pub for a few drinks and snacks on a Saturday evening?” Harry mused with a small smile tugging his lips. “Maybe I want to watch the football game or something.”

“You don’t seem like a sports kind of guy,” she chuckled. “You got me,” he smiled.

Harry requested water and an appetizer, hoping the food could help the knot in his stomach dwindle down.

Y/n took notice of Harry's attire - he wasn’t in an expensive-looking suit like he was the day prior, he was sporting simple cotton shorts and a tee with a button-down over it. Her jaw dropped when she noticed the Gucci tag on the shorts.

How much money does this man have? He couldn’t have been much older than her - but yet he probably didn’t have any setbacks like her and was able to get in and out of school fast.

Continuing her work of taking orders and serving the customers, she kept a close eye on Harry. She watched as he would check the sparkling gold watch on his left wrist or pull out the newest iPhone model to quickly type back to someone.

The whole entire time Harry was there he just drank water and ate his food, only getting up to use the restroom.

Nearing the end of her shift, Harry waved Y/n over and requested his bill. She started to place the receipt down, but Harry just handed her his sleek black American Express credit card.

“Just put it on this love,” Y/n nodded and went to take care of his bill. She was used to the nickname ‘love’ considering they were in the heart of London where the British men loved to toss that word around.

Y/n handed him the final receipt and started cleaning up her other tables so she could head home. She made a pit stop at Harry's table to grab his receipt and dishes knowing that was her last table. She noticed the abnormal tip he left and questioned it, “I think you missed a decimal place, Harry.”

Harry just shook his head and continued gathering his things, “I don’t think I did.” “Then why are you giving me such a hefty tip?” She questioned, clear confusion written on her face.

“Am I not allowed to be generous?” Harry spoke, a certain edge to his voice. Y/n shook her head, “I appreciate your generosity, but I’m not some charity case.” “Never said you were. Figured you could use the extra money.”

With that, he left and headed to her apartment to allow himself time to cool down as he waited for her with the bouquet of flowers that were slowly wilting. The flowers were in desperate need of some water from sitting in Harry’s car all day.

Y/n clocked out, grabbed her stuff, and made her way to her apartment. As she walked she searched for the name ‘Harry’ to see if she could find anything about this man. But what she found blew her mind. The Harry that’s talking to her is the fucking multi billionaire who is a fucking CEO of his own company.

He was the owner of Styles & Co. Most people feared this man, he was known as ruthless and cold-hearted. Why was he giving her the time of day?

Walking up the stairs to her level she was met with Harry standing outside her door with flowers. “What are you doing here Mr. Styles?” Her voice was firm meaning she meant business. “You know you aren’t my charity case-” Y/n cut him off immediately, “So what I’m just somebody you think needs money?”

This made Harry scoff, “You figured out who I am finally,” he chuckled.

“You know most women I met always just want me for my money - not you. I think you’re beautiful, kind, funny, smart, you name it. If I’m being honest you interest me.” Harry spoke, nothing but the truth coming out of his mouth.

“I figured since you work two jobs that means you're probably in some financial trouble and just thought I could help.” Y/n sat there, not really sure what she was feeling at this point. She’s never experienced somebody actually caring for her like Harry is confessing to.

“I noticed you had a sunflower phone case and sunflower hair clip yesterday. Kind of figured you liked sunflowers,” Harry handed the flowers which she took thankfully. “I never believed I would ever be able to find someone who actually cared about me instead of my money nor have I had somebody actually decline my money,” he chuckled with no emotion behind it. “But I guess I was wrong.” Turning on his heels he started to walk away.

Y/n hurriedly grabbed him by the arm, “I’m sorry I was a bitch. I really didn’t know you had the money until I kind of searched you up cause I see your last name everywhere,” she lightly chuckled. “Just so you know, I’m not some gold digger nor do I want to ever become one, but I do appreciate the tip. I actually could use it.”

Harry listened with a smug smile on his face. “Would you want to go on a date with me?” Harry blurted out not being able to contain it any longer.

Y/n chuckled, “I assume that’s why you brought the flowers?” “Maybe or maybe it was because of your hair clip and phone case.” Harry shrugged nonchalantly.

Y/n’s face heated up realizing this man wasn’t playing around, “Nobody has ever paid that much attention to me.” Finally making eye contact and a smile formed on her lips, “To answer your question I would love to go on a date with you.”

Harry did a silly little celebratory dance that made Y/n giggle, “You want to come inside and have a glass of wine with me?” Harry nodded, “That would be lovely.”

Harry knew from the minute he laid eyes on her to the minute he beat the crap out of the guy trying to assault Y/n, he knew she was the one. She didn’t like Harry for his money - she truly liked him for who he is.

Harry was never one to believe in fate. But deep down, he knew Y/n was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. From her corny jokes to her stubbornness - she was the one he wanted and needed.

Harry believes in fate now because if he wasn’t late for work, he wouldn’t have saved her from getting run over. If his business partners hadn’t suggested they went to that pub, he wouldn’t have had the chance to tell her sorry. If he didn’t stick around, he wouldn’t have kicked the dude’s ass and walked her home.

Now he was sharing a glass of wine with Y/n in her kitchen watching as she fumbled with the pots and pans trying to not burn her apartment down. She’s cursing like a sailor but it doesn’t matter to Harry because she’s real. Not some stuck-up bitch who wants his money.

Y/n was Harry’s saving grace - whether they both knew it or not. He finally found somebody who he found attractive and caring - and Y/n found somebody who gave her the time of day. She was the love of his life - and he was the love of her life.

[quillsareswords]

could u do a damian wayne x reader where the reader is a titan and damian and her are friends and where the reader has a really crooked smile and crooked teeth and damian just adores it but the reader hates it because everyone makes jokes about it even though they’re just kidding she’s just really insecure like maybe a fellow titan makes a joke about it and damian defends her

Thank you for requesting! This is written by someone who two snagle teeth that sit more like tusks that I despise, so I get where we're coming from here 😔

Prompt List • Masterlist (in bio)

He's always liked your smile. Yeah, it's lopsided and looks more like something torn straight from an evil swamp witch in a storybook, but he adores it.

He loves it because it's yours. Trademark yours. Nobody in the world has a smile exactly like yours. He loves it because it means you're happy. It isn't something torn from a billboard and slapped across someone's face—it's your happiness, in all its realistic and lifelike glory. Nothing any orthodontist can recreate.

He remembers when you first joined the Titans. Barely two weeks after he did, himself. You'd smiled broadly back then, laughing openly at his quips and jokes too dark for you to repeat.

After so long spent around rich people with perfect teeth and catered smiles, your crooked grin stole his heart right out from under him. He hadn't noticed at first, when his heart toppled into your hands: he was too busy admiring your mouth and wondering what'd it could feel like against his.

It took a long time for him to come to terms with his feelings for you. Years, actually. But even while he was trying desperately to suppress an emotional attachment that ran much deeper that just your smile, he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of seeing it. He continued hissing comments in the middle of meetings and pinpointing the things you thought were funniest, cutes, sweetest. Anything to earn a smile.

Unfortunately, he suspects not everybody felt the same glimmering warmth that came with your smile. At the years dragged on, your grin shrank. It was gradual at first, fewer and farther between, until one day they stopped altogether. No more teeth peeking out between the break in your lips. You still smiled plenty, at all his jokes and barbed comebacks, but never showing any teeth. Close-lipped smiles only. When you laughed, it was with a hand or wrist over your mouth. No teeth.

It was late, the night he asked about it. You were sixteen, and he'd given up on shoving away emotions. He still refused to admit anything to you, but he'd allow himself to call you a close friend—one of his two best friends (not that he'd ever said that to your face). It was in San Francisco, and you were laying beside him on the roof of Titan Tower.

You were chuckling still chuckling about watching Beat Boy spurt fruit punch put of his nose when Raven kissed his cheek on a dare (your dare, simply because you wanted to see how hard you could get her to blush).

He was staring up at what stars could be seen through the city's light pollution. He was smiling and listening, but he was only really paying you half his attention. He was thinking about the pictures you'd been in throughout the night, the close-lipped smiles, the hands covering your laughter. That one time you covered your mouth again because you couldn't help grinning at him from across the room as he deadpanned, listening to Dick drawl on about celebrating the successful mission you'd all completed the night before.

He let's your chuckling die down before he rolls his face toward you. "Can I ask you something?"

You look his way, an uncovered, tooth-flashing smile still settled across your mouth, though it starts to fade at the seriousness in his tone.

You still smile for him. Just him.

"Why do you cover your mouth when you laugh?"

Your smile becomes lopsided. You aren't totally sure how to react, and it's written across your face, despite trying to play it off. "What?"

"When you laugh, you cover your mouth with your hand," he reiterates. "And you don't smile around people like you used to."

Your smile droops again. You turn away, to face the stars again. "I dunno. I just do."

He knows there's something else, but he's learned to recognize when you don't want to talk about something. He wants to press you, he wants to figure out what the problem is so he can fix it. Hedyfix all your problems, if he could.

He shoves the thought away before it advances on as to why. "How many Titans can pass out in one room?"

You recognize the tone he uses specifically for a joke. You're already starting to smile. "I dunno, how many?"

"Let's go back inside and find out."

It's a good week afterward that he finally gets his answers. You're sandwiched between him and Raven, focused more on the movie than Beast Boy trying to get Cyborg to spit out his mouth full of water. Some bet they'd made, you've gathered. Why they'd chosen a horror movie is beyond you.

Damian's got more out of you that Garfield has gotten out of his target so far, and it's already halfway through the movie. Raven even giggled at the few she overheard.

It's all fun and games, until Garfield looks up at the screen, and barks out a laugh from the other side of Raven. "Look, it's (Y/N)!"

He's referring to the clown on the screen. The original Pennywise. With rotten, crooked teeth and a chilling grin that probably made kids cry.

Damian rolls his eyes and scoffs. He turns toward you to snicker something about Gar projecting his own issues, but stops cold when he sees the look on your face.

Your eyes are still on the movie, but they're unfocused and your face is twisted with hurt. You try to wipe the expression away when you realize he's looking.

Oh. That's the problem. He should have guessed. Suppose he was too caught up in his own opinion to really consider what any ignorant rodent might think or say about you.

Cyborg groans something, completely unintelligible with a mouthful of water, but it sounds like it was supposed to be scolding. Raven doesn't seem to have heard it.

There are tears in your eyes when you absently scratch the side of your arm and stand up. "I'll be back," you brush off with a forced half smile that's meant to look playful, but comes off pained. You make for the kitchen too quickly to be subtle.

Damian watches you go, but his attention hones on Garfield the moment your out of sight. The green boy is still staring questioningly at Cy's glare when Damian whacks him with the remote.

He swears, reaching up to rub where the hard plastic made contact, turning to tell Damian off and to make him pick up the batteries that came flying out, but Damian's on him first.

"Looks like (L/N), does it?" he growls, jerking his head toward the paused imagine. "Are you always this idiotic or just an asshole?"

Damian watches the confusion turn to pained understanding as he looks between Pennywise and a very angry ex-assassin.

Cyborg spits his water back into the cup on the table. "Dude, come on. That was such a dick thing to say..."

Damian doesn't sit around for the rest. He shoulders the kitchen door open with an empty glass in hand.

You're staring into the yellow light of the microwave, listening to popcorn kernels pop, with your back to him and tour hands braced against the counter.

He hesitates by the door, steps forward suddenly slow and unsure. He glances the sink, remembers the glass, and makes for the faucet. He doesn't want to make it terribly obvious that he knows you're upset, for fear of upsetting you further.

"You shouldn't stand in front of the microwave like that," he grumbles, twisting on the cold water. "Radiation, and all that."

You don't reply. Forty five seconds left on the timer.

He sighs. He pulls his glass from the sink and switches off the water. He leaves the half-full dish on the counter.

You feel his hand on your shoulder without hearing him move. Your head jerks toward him reflexively, but you're quick to turn back to the microwave.

Not quick enough to hide unshed tears and red rimmed eyes.

His hand slides down to your shoulder blade. "Hey. Look at me."

"I'm fine," you mumble, shaking your head dismissively. "I'll be back in a second, just wanted–"

"(Y/N)." His voice is soft in your ears, softer still on an emotional wound. "Look at me."

You release a deep breath, steeling yourself as best you can. His hand is warm on your back, and all you can think about is how badly you want to be held by him. You drop one hand from the counter and turn.

His hand glides with your movement, resting now on your arm. "It was a stupid joke. He's going to apologize. He didn't mean it."

You consider faking another smile and brushing it all off, but you can't seem to bring yourself to do it. Instead, you take a new interest in his shoes. "He wasn't wrong."

"He was." There's enough conviction in his voice to draw your eyes back to his. "He's said enough dumb things to convince mute man glad to be, but that was possibly one of the stupidest."

You chuckle, despite yourself. "That's an awful joke to make," you scold. Still the corners of your lips are tilting upward.

"I know," he admits. "But I'll tell an even worse one if it means you'll smile for me."

Your face falls slack. Eyes wide, surprised.

His free hand finds your other arm. "You have the happiest smile I've ever seen, (Y/N). You don't have to look like a orthodontic aligners commercial to have the prettiest smile in any room. And if anyone tells you otherwise, I'll knock their incisors out."

You've got tears in your eyes again, but your wobbling bottom lip is still tilling toward the ceiling. You sniffle once, shuffling forward just enough to wrap he your arms around him.

His arms come up around you like they've been waiting his whole life for you. And the way you fit against him so perfectly, he wonders if they have.

You bury your face in his shoulder. "Thank you," you mumble against his shirt. "Nobody's ever said that about my smile before."

"No one?" He sounds genuinely surprised, and your body gently shakes hon his arms and you chuckle again.

You pull away slowly, but you can't convince yourself to step away just yet. He doesn't seem to mind, arms still so secure around you. "No. But I shouldn't be surprised," you smile again, wider, "considering you're the only person I've never felt so self conscious around."

He smiles right back. "Good. I couldn't stand it if you tried to hide from me like you do everyone else."

Your teeth disappear again, but it's not behind tight lips and self conscious dread. It's something soft, made solely for him. "No. I don't think I could hide it from you if I tried."

He doesn't remember who moved first. If it was your hands on his cheeks or his arms around your waist, or who leaned and who met them halfway. All he does remember is how many times he imagined tour lips against his, and how many times he'd guessed it all right.

[bakugohoex]

bakugou !! with a reader that beats him in the sports festival and takes first place and all his friends laugh at him for losing to a girl and he's all like "i let her win!!>:((" but then she confronts him bc she's annoyed he Still hasn't acknowledged her as a potentially amazing future pro hero and u can make up thereee

“how am i supposed to protect everybody if i can’t even protect you.”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: fluff, langauge, kissing

word count: 1500+

a/n: hii, sorry this might have taken a while been busy per usual, hope you liked this and per usual i always make them get together in the end because i’m sap with no boyfriend

summary: in which you and bakugo are the ones to go against each other in the final of the sports festival and after you win, he makes it seem like he let you win, after confronting him he finally gives you what you wanted.

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

The good old UA sports festival, an easy win for the boy who had told the entire arena he would win.

He had such high expectations for himself.

That’s until you came around.

He hated your quirk with a burning passion.

He hated how you could easily get past him and find his faults.

Worst of all he hated the smug look you had every time you won against him.

He was supposed to be the strongest.

Not you.

So when the final fight occurs between you and the spiky blond.

He was pissed.

He saw how you won against Todoroki with ease and the smirk you had then would never amount to the smirk that you would have crushing him.

“You ready to lose, Bakugo.” He hated the way you had such malice in your voice.

He wanted to punch it right from your pretty little mouth.

Maybe he did admire your quirk and the hatred was a mask.

But that smug look you gave him angered him to the boiling point.

With ease you used your quirk to move past him dodging his hits, he knew you weren’t trying, weren’t bothering.

He even swore he saw you checking your nails and then he saw it.

The yellow bright wisps tangling between your fingers, it almost matched his own explosions that you dodged.

And then you hit him, punching him in the gut.

He didn’t even realise how far you’d gotten to him, a close proximity.

And now that you were using your quirk properly, he resented it.

That one punch made him lose the air in his lungs, one touch was all you needed, and you could control his muscular body.

He always tried to not get close to you, tried to keep a distance.

But you’d evaded his attacks by slicking back side to side past his aim.

He was slow, no. He wasn’t you were just too perceptive, having a quirk that made you touch anything and control it had other perks.

Your ability to control your surroundings just with one gaze up and down.

You knew where his explosions would go.

“I think you’ve lost.” You were smirking as you hummed.

He felt disgraced at how easily you controlled his limbs to move out of the area.

He hated how you had won and there was destruction around you, but you weren’t scratched.

Most of all he hated that you were better than him, that you’d protect them all and that was his job.

You defiantly gloated a bit but once you got the medal and an angry Bakugo stood beside you, you felt bad.

Being the sweetie you are you followed him out to tell him he did good.

But that’s when you heard it.

“I can’t believe you lost to a girl again.” Denki laughed out, Kirishima tried to not say anything sympathising with Bakugo.

Hell, he had fought against you and lost himself due to needing contact as well. Denki the only one scared of you had never dared to partner up with you, but it hit a nerve for Bakugo.

He was angry, pissed even, how could he be a hero if he had lost. How could he protect yo...everybody if he lost against your quirk. The acknowledgement that you had a better quirk, were more perceptive, kinder to civilians. How could he ever beat that, and how could he stop thinking about you and that damn quirk.

“I let her win.” Your eyes widened at the comment and anger boiled over you.

“Bako...” Kirishima was about to speak but you stormed out from your hiding spot.

“You let me what?” You shouted it, he noticed the yellow wisps surround your fingers and Denki and Kirishima were scared to say the least.

Kirishima grabbed Denki’s sleeve, “that’s our cue to leave.”

They walked away and with your brows furrowed and a sneer on your lip you were pissed. “Didn’t you hear me?” He mocked. “I. Let. You. Win.”

You were ready to punch him, make his bones break under your command. But you saw after how he looked down not meeting your gaze.

“Bakugo, i came here to say how you did good, just fucking accept i won and stop acting like a dick.” You had started calm, the yellow disappearing but by the end you became pissed once again.

He didn’t meet your gaze, staring at how your fingers looked rough and calloused, he knew you’d go straight into your bag and get the hand cream that smelled of cherries. He always noticed the smell, cherries or mangos, whatever it was it made him shudder.

Looking up at how your UA jacket was unzipped the black tank top encasing your chest, he noticed your heavy breath at hoe your breasts fell up and down with your breathing. Your neck had a scratch across it, maybe one of his hits did get you.

He finally looked up to your face, the scowl on your face waiting for him to speak. He was ready to say something, but he noticed how plump your lips were. How even thought they were dry they looked ever so delectable

“Bakugo.” You repeated his name, but he was in a daze thinking of you.

He often did this around you, just stared and dazed out thinking about each of your features. It wasn’t because he liked you or anything, he just wanted to get a feel for your weaknesses of course. That’s what he would tell himself every night even though it was a blatant lie.

Hell, even the class had caught on. He would sometimes just stop talking when you walked into a room, and when Sero or Kirishima would ask about it. He would say you was scoping out the enemy, it was a lie, and they all knew it.

You were oblivious and whilst tapping your foot you waited crossed arm for an answer. “I...i...” He was stuck taking in a sharp breath he tried to speak.

The only thing that came into your head was to do something that you never wanted to do. You moved your calloused hand to his face; you felt his want cheek cup against your palm, and you activated your quirk.

“Tell me the truth Bakugo, why did you lie?” He hated how you used your quirk on him but even then, it was a relief that whatever he would say would be what he believed to be the truth and that was that it was a blow to his ego.

That’s all he had wanted to say but the real truth had come out, “how am i supposed to protect everybody if i can’t even protect you.”

Your eyes widened at the comment, letting go of his face. His eyes turned wide, and ears reddened, “w...what?”

This time you were breathless, and you waited for an answer, you turned your quirk off scared to hear anymore.

“I didn’t mean that i don’t care about protecting you, you...you mean fucking nothing to me.” It was all a lie, and you knew it was, his scarlet eyes told no truths.

“That’s not what you said before.” You tried to surprise a snicker to not make the situation worse, but his eyes looked full of regret now.

He took another sharp breathe before finally deciding to confess, “i meant what i said, if i can’t protect you and you’re always protecting me how can i save everybody, how can i be the one who will save you?”

“Bakugo, I don’t need saving or protecting, I want us to be equal and protect each other.” He shakes his head folding his arms.

“You don’t understand what I’m trying to say.”

“Then show me what you’re trying to say.” He thought about your words.

You wanted him to show you, so that was what he’d do. “I’ll fucking show you then.” He grabbed your face, his lips on yours, the long-awaited kiss that had been brewing between you two. It felt real, more real than both your dreams of this moment.

You always acknowledged your feelings, you weren’t an ass just to anybody, only him. You gave the same energy back to make him fall for you, but he saw past your comments and saw your kindness to others. A stark contrast, how you adored wanting to be a hero and most of all how you stuck by your aims through to the end.

His hands caressed your cheek, even with the teeth on teeth, lips on lips, it felt softer but in reality, a mess. You both had craved each other too much, all the pent-up anger from losing against you and the comment Bakugo had made, had made the kiss become lustful and full of sin.

He didn’t care who saw, he didn’t care anymore, you would become an amazing hero and he would as well. But you both would stay by each other’s side till the very end. You would protect him, and he would always protect you. 

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @ukaisgratefulwhore @answer-the-sirens

[hangmanshole]

here comes santa claus

A/N: there’s no point in sugar coating this….. it’s pure unadulterated sheer horniness for ryan bergara in his santa costume.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: 18+ !!!! smut to come in part 2, enough swear words to rival a 10 year old who just learned the word fuck, horny xmas pickup lines that wouldn’t be out of place in a cheesy xmas porno

with christmas fast approaching and your ebenezer scrooge vibe stinking up the loft you shared with your best friends, they finally lost all patience and took it upon themselves to drag your grumpy ass out of the comfort of the loft and into the car for some good old-fashioned retail therapy at the mall.

“but—“

“shut up, you’re going shopping and you’re gonna love it. maybe you could even buy a vibrator and go to town on yourself so you stop being such a cunt.”

“tell me how you really feel,” you grumbled, lowering into your seat so you were at the optimal position for window gazing.

—————

“bergara, you’re late… again” steven tsk’ed in annoyance, he wasn’t getting paid enough to deal with ryan’s shit, and also, he fucking reeked of stale beer. he was pretty sure the stain on his costume was also beer, or beer adjacent (enter whisky).

“better late than never, now let’s make some fucking wishes come true, huh?” he rubbed his hands together mischievously and walked out to his spot on santa’s throne. yeah. steven definitely wasn’t getting paid enough for this shit.

“HO HO HO BOYS AND GIRLS ITS ME, SANTA!” steven sighed, shook his head and plastered a smile on his face before running out to his position as head elf.

——————

“fellas i’ve changed my mind, i’m ready to get in the holiday spirit” you said in an attempt to declare a truce, maybe it wasn’t too late to back out of this.

“not only are you a grinch, but you’re also a goddamn, dirty liar. you need this” your best friend retorted, not at all impressed. you think you need new friends, this one’s defective and can call all your bullshit.

you sighed in defeat and allowed them to drag you through the entrance of the mall for what would be a torturous five hours of christmas shopping.

——————

“santa’s going to take a quick break, and then he’ll be right back! everybody say bye santa!” steven said to all the children and their accompanying parents while ryan stumbled out of his throne and back into the dressing room (tent).

steven pulled back the door to the tent and found ryan chugging straight from a whisky bottle that was nearing empty.

“nice one santa, maybe try not to fall on your ass this time. i can only say santa’s a bit clumsy because he can’t see over his beard so many times.”

“yes dear, i’ll be a good boy from now on” ryan replied in a drunken stupor.

“jesus christ, is that bottle from today?” steven asked, ignoring ryan’s smartass comment.

“you bet your sweet ass it is.”

steven sat in weighted silence as ryan chugged down the rest of the whisky bottle. the uniform he had to wear was unbearably itchy, not to mention thick (which makes him sweaty), and worst of all, he had to babysit ryan through the rest of the holidays. he was disgruntled to say the least - what was usually his favourite time of year was soured because his best friend was broken-hearted over a friends with benefits situation gone wrong, thus drinking himself into a fucking hot mess while he was meant to be lying about the miracle of christmas to gullible, doe-eyed children while their parents paid for their kid to sit on the lap of a stranger. happy fucking holidays.

he glanced at the clock, and then back at ryan who was staring into space, completely disconnected from reality.

“breaks over, santa. knock ‘em dead” he said in what he hopes was an encouraging tone. he was met with a slurred grunt, which he���d have to accept as an answer. he watched as ryan gathered himself up and stumbled his way out of the tent. steven prayed to whatever god was looking down on him to have mercy on him, and also on ryan’s liver which was surely taking hella damage.

———————

“dude can we go home now? i’m literally out of money” you pleaded to your roommates. your feet were sore from standing for so long, your mouth was dry from the giant soft pretzel you’d snacked on earlier and to be honest, you were fucking exhausted from being around people for so long. your social battery could only last for so long and you were riding the last of that sweet sweet juice on 2%.

“in a minute” was all the answer you got. after 20 not minutes, according to your best friend anyway, passed you exited the store in a huff, leaving all your shopping bags unattended in the cart. you exhaled a long breath and thought about all the reasons you loved your friends and how you’d miss them if they suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth.

just as you allowed yourself to get swept away in your thoughts, a bellowed HO HO HO caught your attention. not fucking santa. god, you’d forgotten that malls hire any random dude off the street once a year to play santa and let all the good little boys and girls of this shit piss town sit on his lap and tell them what they want for christmas.

i’ll tell you what i want for christmas, santa. some fucking dick, you thought to yourself. you make the decision to glance over in the direction of this years holiday shmuck, entertaining the idea of getting a good laugh out of the pervy old man sitting on old saint nicks throne. you’re surprised however, to find a young looking guy, fucking fit, manspreading on santa’s seat.

were all the old men of the world too busy to play santa this year? who is this guy?

your questions unfortunately received no answers as your roommates finally decided to make an appearance outside the store.

“we’re done— uh…. are you checking out santa?”

“no the fuck i’m not” you replied, just a tad too fast.

“dude ew oh my godddd, since when do you like old men?”

“he’s literally not old, look.” you point over towards the christmas display so that your friends too could appreciate the view that is new hot santa.

“i think we should take a family photo with santa” your best friend mused, a shit eating grin plastered across their stupid face.

“no, i refuse. no” you reply, but your words fall on deaf ears. the three bastards you call roommates are already dragging you over to the queue of children waiting to see santa.

“you can’t make me!” you shout, catching the attention of several disproving mothers. they let go of you once you’re situated in the queue, and your best friend says that they’ll wait in line with you until it’s your turn.

“i hate this, i hate it here, i hate you…do you hate me? is that why i’m here?” you ask.

“you don’t get to be a jackass just because some asshole jock broke your heart. and you don’t get to be an even bigger asshole on christmas just because your parents got divorced when you were a kid. this is our first holiday as a loft family and you’re ruining it.”

you don’t reply after that, what could you even say? what would you even say?

“next please!” the head elf called out to you.

“don’t forget to smile!” your best friend said to you, then patted you on the back and left the queue.

“i don’t mean to rush you but santa is on a tight schedule, please come up if you’re ready for your picture” the head elf said to you, looking you directly in the eyes.

you nodded, embarrassed, and made your way up the stairs as fast as you could. your senses were hit with the scent of whisky and stale beer. talk about christmas spirit. santa was still seated while manspreading, and you realise now it’s because he’s fucking tanked.

“well hey there pretty girl” santa greets you, a wicked grin on his face.

“hi santa” you reply, not moving toward him.

“why don’t you come over here and sit on santa’s lap and we’ll talk about the first thing that pops up” he chuckles. your face flushes pink. you clear your throat uncomfortably and fill in the final gaps till you were sat on santa’s lap.

“now that’s a good girl. why don’t you tell me what you want for christmas, baby?” santa says, his tone a chilling purr in your ear. he takes the chance and pushes a loose strand of hair behind the same ear he’d just whispered into.

“santa—“ you start.

“yeah?”

“i just want a man to take care of me and my… needs” you muse, a slight smile gracing your face.

“and what needs would those be, little girl?” you watched as santa’s eyes darkened while they bore into yours. god he was so fucking hot.

“let’s just say… it’d be a christmas miracle if any man could make me cum this holiday season” you pouted. you felt santa harden in the slightest underneath you, a low growl leaves his mouth, concealed by the ridiculous santa beard.

“how about you let santa take care of you, huh, sweet girl? i wanna give you this present myself.” you moaned quietly into his ear.

“say cheese!” the head elf said, pulling the both of you out of the trance of your conversation. you both smiled at the click and then turned back to each other.

santa slipped you a piece of paper and you pocketed it immediately. “my shift ends in an hour, meet me at the address on that note?”

“only if you wear the costume” you smirk at him.

“god i’m gonna fuck you so good.”

[whatyouandihave-makesmefree]

How to say “I love you” without actually saying it - or 137 Milkovichy ways to say “I fuckin’ love Ian Clayton Gallagher”.

1. Kiss me, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.

2. I’ll meet you there in 20.

3. You say that again, I’ll rip your tongue out of your head.

4. Take your hand off the glass.

5. You wanna chit chat more or you wanna get on me?

6. Fuckin’ tough guy, huh?

7. Jesus Christ, you want us to spread a blanket out and look for shooting stars next?

8. Sorry, I gotta go kill your dad, but I’m doing a lot of people a favor, including you.

9. -I missed you-  You did?  -Yeah, man.-

10. So, uh, what you going down for, then, huh?

11. Don’t know what you see in that geriatric viagroid.

12. -You fuck anyone in there yet?-  God, no.  -Wise choice.-

13. Hey, my dad took my brothers on a run out of town for a couple days, so you wanna ditch that dump and crash at my place, you can.

14. Fuck you, is what you were invited to.

15. What are you hoping, I tell you not to go? I’m gonna chase after you like some bitch?

16. -Don’t.-  Don’t what?  -Just…-

17. -You seen him?-  Why do you care?  -Don’t.-

18. You heard from Gallagher?

19. Not fucking Frank. The other one, the redhead.

20. I like fucking carrot-tops, like, with the freckles and the pale skin and fucking alien-looking.

21. He in trouble? What kind of trouble?

22. You wearing cologne?  -No. It’s Kenyatta’s perfume soap shit.-

23. I gotta take care of something important.

24. No, I’m not having fun. I spent the whole day looking for your coked-out ass.

25. You coming back?

26. I’ll do it.

27. Those fingers go anywhere near that cock, I’m gonna break every knuckle in your hand, all 15 of them.

28. Together.

29. That all you think he is? Some twink?

30. Probably best if you don’t, tough guy.

31. Of course we are.

32. You want me to go?  -No, I don’t want you to go.-

33. I’m not lying to you.

34. Ian, what you and I have makes me free, not what these assholes know.

35. Well, good. Leave. What the hell do I care, bitch? Fuck.

36. Hey! Excuse me! Can I get everybody’s attention, please? I just want everybody here to know I’m fucking gay. A big old ‘mo. I just thought everybody should know that. You happy now?

37. Fuck you! Don’t worry about it! I’ve been staying at Ian’s since you’ve been in the can, bitch! Guess what we’ve been doing, daddy! We’ve been fucking! And I take it! He gives it to me good and hard, and I fucking like it.

38. You’re a fucking dick. Yeah, there. That’s what you get.

39. You love him?  -Maybe. I don’t know.-  Because he has a real penis?  -Yeah, I guess.-

40. Rise and fucking shine, Cinderella.

41. Yo, sleepy-face.

42. Hey, you okay? Feeling sick or something?

43. All right, you want me to bring you back something to eat?

44. Ian, are you high? You take something?

45. Fuck’s wrong with him?

46. Before, he was fine. He was happy. He’s staying up all hours of the night, dancing, telling fucking jokes. He kicks my ass every day. I can’t keep up with him.

47. No, no, look. He– he’s low… We cheer him up.

48. What do you mean, hos– Like a psych ward? No fucking way! No fucking way! He’s staying here.

49. I can– I can take care of him. Okay? Let me take care of him until he’s better.

50. Don’t fucking tell me what’s impossible! We’re taking care of him here. You, me, us. His fucking family.

51. He’s not going to some fucking nut house. You hear me? He stays here. He’s staying with me.

52. I’ll be there.  -Better be.-

53. All right. I guess I’m going with you.

54. She’ll send him to a fucking shrink. No. We fix this ourselves.

55. I came out for you, you piece of shit.

56. What’s your type?  -Redhead.-  I am downstairs.  -Batshit crazy.-  Check.  -Packing 9 inches.-

57. I got to take you to a hospital, Ian.

58. I’m worried about you.

59. His partner. Lover? Family? You know?

60. At least he’ll be getting some kind of fucking help.

61. Relationship to the patient?  -Sister.-   -You?-  -Uh, boyfriend.-

62. Hey. Sorry I’m late.

63. We gotta get you to a fucking clinic. Get some meds. Today.

64. Hey, it’s okay. It’s all right.

65. He’s not a fucking lab rat.

66. He’s got me.

67. Hey, Ian’s sleeping in there.

68. All right, breakfast of champs. We got your mood stabilizer, anti-psychotic, anti-depressant. Gatorade.

69. Shut the fuck up. Take the pills, bitch.

70. Hey, no caffeine on your meds.

71. Eat it. Take all those pills on an empty stomach and you’re going to have diarrhea real bad.

72. I didn’t know which Bs to get, so I just got all the fucking Bs. I got B-complex, super B-complex, B-12, B-6.

73. The hell happened to your hand?

74. Did a doctor take care of that?

75. You can’t go anywhere unless you get that looked at, man.

76. Your hand, man.

77. No, no. Look, you’re not supposed to drink on lithium. It makes your blood fucking toxic, and it gets you hammered in like two seconds flat. You can’t-

78. You look like a fucking wet rat.

79. We’re going on a date.  -Fuck, yes, we are.-

80. Where the fuck are you?

81. Where the fuck you been? 

82. You okay?

83. It means we take care of each other.

84. It means thick and thin, good times, bad, sickness, health, all that shit.

85. You look good.

86. Got a new tattoo. Did it myself. Hurt like a son of a bitch.

87. Been thinking about you. You ever think of me? Gonna wait for me?

88. Will you? Wait?

89. You like the high school bleachers? Our spot, man.

90. Look, I’m, um I’m getting some new IDs, some cash, and heading to Mexico.-  Wow.  -You should come.-

91. Thought a lot about you inside. You’re under my skin, man. The fuck can I do? Hmm? Can I do?

92. Knew you’d come. 

93. Come here.

94. I’m gonna see you again?

95. The fuck you looking at?

96. It’s what kept me going in the joint. The beach. Us.

97. Oh, check it out. Ian Gallagher putting his big boy pants on!

98. You never fucking visited me.

99. What am I leaving behind? My family? Who cares I never see those shitheads again. You had my back more than they ever did.

100. You ever think about me? When I was in the joint?

101. Fuck, I missed you.

102. What the fuck is that? I don’t want your fucking money! I want you to come with– me.

103. Don’t do this.

104. Fuck you, Gallagher.

105. I rolled on the cartel I was working for, and in exchange, guess who gets to pick where he gets locked up?

106. No, I just did it ‘cause it was the right thing.

107. Would you be fucking happy?  -Yes, fuck, yes!-

108. I guess I need some advice. It’s about my partner, Ian.

109. You’re not throwing your fuckin’ parole for me. We need to get you the hell outta this shit-hole.

110. You don’t belong in here, Gallagher.

111. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.

112. FaceTime your brother. See the baby.

113. You seen Ian?

114. About time, man. Your Panda Express is getting cold.

115. Eat your Szechuan beans.

116. Chill your fucking tits and eat your noodles, man.

117. Let’s get out of here, get some Pinkberry.

118. No. No. I’m not running. I need to protect him.

119. Jesus Christ. You proposing to me over fucking patty melts?

120. Fuck it. I do.

121. When you know, you know. You know?

122. No, just saying you don’t love me enough now. And that’s fine. It’s cool.

123. Jesus Christ, save the fucking speech, you pussy. I’ll marry you. Of course I’ll fucking marry you.

124. You must really love cock.  -I definitely love one.-

125. You ever try to get me to move to Milwaukee, I’ll fuckin’ murder you.

126. Hey, I like the blue ones.  -Yeah?- 

127. You sure you still wanna go through with this?  -Yes. Why?-

128. You’re a sneaky bastard.

129. -Take your meds?-  Yes.  -Good.-

130. The son of a bitch is never gonna let me be happy. He needs to die today.

131. Well, there’s plenty of strays wandering around the neighborhood. I’m sure we can pick one up for cheap.

132. Yeah, well, at least I don’t have to hide in a coffin till the sun goes down.

133. Damn straight, Gallagher.

134. I, Mikhailo, take you, Ian, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health,  to love and to cherish you till death do us part.

135. Good morning, Mr - Millagher?

136. You hungry?

137. You wanna go again?  -Absolutely.-

[potatosoldier]

Are you still there?

/Part 1 /

Richard Winters x reader

Okay, I know that some of the things about her enlisting are completely unrealistic, so forgive me, but in the end this is fiction so I hope you understand. 

If you want to know more, here is a link :): ANC

Four years since 1939. That’s how long I have been training to become a nurse or as the soldiers called me a Red Cross Girl. 

36 months of basic training with informal military training after. I did it to become a being who could do something in the middle of this bloody play of power. 

I had given it up, the dream of becoming a teacher, for this. For the fact that in November 1939, my father and brother got locked down into Finland, to fight. To fight for their roots. I want to do my part now, in here. To bring back peace, for it hopefully can be brought back. 

“You are on the opposing sides”, you may think. No, I am not. Both of my countries were attacked, and I don’t blame either for responding. You see, for four years, I lived in Finland, from the age three to the age of seven. My fathers side of the family is Finnish. My great grandfather came to America to look for a job, married another Finnish immigrant and started a new life. Then my father was born, later on he found a beautiful wife from Minnesota, and when I was three, we came to look for our roots. Being the first ones from our family to come back. I am fluent in Finnish, my father made sure of that. 

Now here I sit, at the age of 24, in a train, going towards Camp Mackall. My heart was racing and my palms were damp with sweat. This was truly it, here I was going to see Colonel Robert Sink, and be an unhappy surprise once again. 

“Ma’am we’re here” a young boy with a kind smile said at the door. I must have been more in my head than I thought. I give the boy a soft smile: “Thank you”

I take my suitcase and slowly step out. The more you know, there is a jeep waiting at the station. With a dark haired gentleman behind the wheel. “Sir, pardon? Are you possibly from Camp Mackall?”, I ask softly. He did not look happy and I had no intention of making his day any worse. 

“Captain Herbert Sobel. I was assigned to bring you to Colonel Sink Mrs.Winters”, how did he manage to make such an easy sentence so mean spirited I have no clue. I just continue smiling and step in. “Pleasure to meet you captain, it seems you already know my name, but still allow me to introduce myself. Sonja Winters”, I say kindly.

He just nods and starts the vehicle. The rest of the ride is very quiet. But if someones eyes could set fire to their view, boy oh boy, there would be a fire hazard in North Carolina. 

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

My breath catches as we arrive at the camp. I gulp and let Herbert help me out from the jeep. “Follow me, Mrs Winters”, he says curtly and starts leading the way. The place was huge! Completely and utterly giant!

We walk for quite a while till we come to stand in front of an office. From the door and my orders I already knew who was in. As we get a permission to enter, my heart stops at the door. There inside, I see a familiar red head. The head of the man who had the hold of my heart. I only just notice Herbert salute the colonel and then take his leave. 

When I come to stand at attention in front of the Colonel, I can feel the baby blues burrow into my brain. Sink just smiles and says “At ease, you better sit now, we have much to discuss”

“It’s lovely to meet you in person, sir” I smile and timidly sit beside my husband, who is looking more broken inside than ever. He nods and takes out some papers, some of them being letters from me and my head nurse. 

“Lt. Winters I know that this is a surprise for you, a big one at that”, he begins, “but your wife is here to work as a nurse for the Easy Company.” He can clearly see the pain in my husbands gaze even as he remains stoic. 

“With all the respect, sir, do you think it’s safe to have her in that position?”, oh how I’ve missed his voice. His soothing voice. I bite my lip and dare not look at him. 

“We have been ordered to try to raise the morale of soldiers and at the same time raise productivity and resources in the army. Having the nurses from the ANC and the red cross, would do both “ Sink sighs, “I don’t necessarily agree with the idea of women being assigned like this, no offence Mrs. WInters, but we have to try. And Easy is a remarkable company, with you there keeping her safe”

“It’ll be easier for you to know where she is, and at the same time your assert will keep the men from harassing her. She is a married nurse, a risk on itself. This is only a try and if she becomes a distraction, she will be removed”

I look at Sink in the eye at the last sentence and I see the clear weight he put on those words. “Sir, I believe both me and my husband will be able to focus on our duty at hand. I have come here to do a job the same as everybody else”, I reason. 

Sink nods. “You both have damn good marks. I trust both of you on this, and that is why I chose you”. After a long discussion and some paperwork we are done. But only with two sentences from Dick. I knew my husband, he was mad. He wouldn’t shout, but this demeanor oozed his distress. 

“Take Nurse Winters to the officers barracks, that will be the safest place for her lieutenant. Welcome to the company! Dismissed”and with that I was left alone with my dear husband. 

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

The first steps we take in the hall are very quiet. Then I open my mouth. “I miss you”, I whisper and keep my eyes ahead. Dick gives a long sigh while carrying my suitcase. “This is not the place for such discussions, Nurse Winters”

I keep my eyes ahead, but I can feel them watering. His voice is like a whip to my heart. “I understand, sir”, I say louder this time. I can see his expression falter. We walk quietly side by side to the barracks. I can feel the long looks and hear the questioning as we pass people.

 When we make it to a barrack, he lets me in first. I can see that there are three beds in there. Two filled, one empty. From the belongings I can see that one of the beds is definitely my husbands. I hear the door being shut behind me as Dick too steps in.

Once the door is shut I open my mouth. “Dick, please, we have gone through this once already”, I beg as I look at him. For the first time he looks me straight in the eye. “You know that I love you, you know we can’t do this like this”, I rasp. 

“Sonja, we did discuss you joining the nurses, and yes you going near the battlefield, but we never had any conversation about you joining a company full of men”, his voice was stern as ever, eyes not holding their usual warmth. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he continues: “You could be attacked by your own comrades, you could become the reason they are too distracted to do their duty” He is looking down at me. His tall stature towering my 5′5 frame. 

“I want to do my duty too, Dick. I want to help!”I shake my head as I speak “I was deemed fit for this program, I-I don’t want to be useless”,I whisper looking down at my hands. 

My heart skips as he raises his hand to take mine. “You were never useless”, he whispers back raising my chin up. We take our time just looking at each other. He breaks the silence. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? We’ve been writing, why didn’t you write to me”, he looks so confused it hurts. 

“We weren’t sure of it till couple weeks ago, I didn’t want you to... well get worried and react like this”, I say tenderly cupping the side of his face. There are no words to describe how good it feels to be near him. Smell him, hear him, feel him. “I miss you so”, I sob. My sob does it for him, and he pulls me against him. My arms around his waist and his cheek on top of my head. My sobs turn into a small giggle. “I love you, god I love you”I whisper. I feel his hold getting tighter at my words. 

“I love you too”he whispers and kisses my hair. All I can think is the fact that he is holding me again, my Richard is holding me, telling me he loves me. Until the door opens with a bang and we jump apart. 

We are met with a chuckle and a man with a smirk and bushy eyebrows. 

--- This will probably be rewritten, but for now I want to see how people react to this idea---

[youllneverknowrac]

Oscar Diaz-No Sharing

Written for a follower on wattpad

Enjoy guys! <3

~

It was your senior year, the year everything was suppose to be perfect. You already had the somewhat perfect life, at least in your own opinion. You were the top cheerleader and your boyfriend of two years just made captain on the varsity team. You had straight A’s and amazing friends...See? Perfect. That was until Oscar Diaz got out of jail and walked into your life a few weeks ago.

You met him the last weekend before school started back up at a party that you attended after a argument with your boyfriend. His party to be more precise. One thing led to another and somehow you ended up in his bed. Your boyfriend long forgotten as Oscar thrusted into you, his lips making sure to cover every single inch of your body. After that, you were hooked. The two of you meeting up almost every night for a secret rendezvous.

“What are you thinking about?” Oscar asks softly as you lay your head on his chest.

“Hm? Oh nothing, just the game tomorrow.”

“Damn I forgot you had a game tomorrow.” Oscar frowns, hating that practices and game days took up so much of your day,”You gonna come over after? You can stay the night.”

“Our first sleepover?” You smile as you sit up in the bed, the sheet falling into your lap and exposing your bare chest,”Sounds fun.”

“Well on one condition.” He smirks as he takes in your freshly fucked body,”You gotta bring your little uniform and put on a show for me.”

“You’re so lame.” You giggle as you throw the rest of the sheet off of you,”I’m not saying no, but I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“Why? Plans with your little boyfriend?” Oscar asks, his mood completely changing,”You still letting him hit?”

“What? No!” You scoff as you search for your underwear,”I haven’t slept with him since I met you. Why are you even bringing him up?”

“I’m bringing him up because he’s obviously the reason you can’t give me a straight answer about tomorrow.” He says as he reaches for

his boxers and pulls them on from where he still lays,”I don’t know why you can’t just leave his ass.”

“Oscar.” You sigh softly as you pull on your underwear, followed by your t-shirt,”I’ve been with him for so long, I can’t just break it off for no reason.”

“Oh so I’m not reason enough?” Oscar asks with a raised eyebrow

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You say with a shake of your head as you stride over to the bed and straddle his lap, your hands on either side of his face,”You’re more than reason enough, but he’s not going to see it like that. I don’t want everybody to know that I did him dirty. Just give me a little more time and I’ll do it. I promise.”

“How long?” Oscar says with a scowl

“Few days, a week tops.” You shrug as you rest your forehead against his and let him hear what he wants,”Look we have a dinner planned with his family tomorrow after the game and then after that me and my little uniform are all yours. So lighten up Spooooky.”

“Aight, fine.” He says with a small smile,”I can’t wait till you’re only mine.” He adds, his hands sliding down to your ass and roughly squeezing it,”Never sharing you with anybody again. You’re only gonna be my girl.”

“Your’s.” You agree with a smile and pull your shirt off once more so you can remind him of that fact.

~

*Why are you ignoring me?* You read the seventh message from Oscar popping up on your screen before you glance at your boyfriend in the drivers seat who had picked you up this morning.

*Can’t talk right now. I’ll hit you up later.* you quickly reply before blocking his number and deleting the evidence. Already knowing that you’ll get a earful about it tonight, Oscar hating when you blocked him.

“We still on for tonight?” Aaron asks as he focuses on the road in front of him.

“Yeah. Totally.” You smile as you look over at him.

“Maybe I could sneak in tonight.” He offers hopefully.

“Oh...I don’t know. I think Sara was spending the night.” You lie with ease,”Sorry. She asked me yesterday.”

“Seriously babe?”

“Seriously what?”

“We haven’t done anything in weeks, I mean even the last time you kissed me was like a week ago. Is something going on?”

“Nothing’s gong on.” You groan,”I’m fine. Everything is fine, but I already said yes to Sara.”

“Then what’s up? Why have you been distant?”

“I’m not trying to be, I swear. I’m sorry if I’m coming off that way.”

“Do you still love me?” He asks, his eyes glancing over at you,”Cause it doesn’t feel like it lately.”

“Yes. Always.” You tell him, which wasn’t a lie. He was your best friend before he was your boyfriend, you’d always have love for him. He was your first everything which is why you feel like the shittiest person in the world right now.

“I love you more.” He reply’s contently with your answer and grabs your hand to press a small kiss to the back of it.

I’m the worst person ever. The thought replaying over and over again in your mind as you stare at Aaron with a sad smile as he continues the drive to school.

~

“Yeah! Let’s go boys!” You cheer as the football game resumes after half time. Your red and blue uniform ironed to perfection, your white sneakers a blinding white, and Aaron’s jersey number painted on your cheek.

“Yo! Y/N!” You hear a all to familiar voice yell from the sidelines,”Aye, turn your ass around ma!”

You slowly turn around and take in the scene before you, Oscar along with the core 4 seated in the first row of the stands. You offer a small wave with your Pom-Pom before turning around and trying to calm your nerves down. Of course he would show up here, you’ve been ignoring him since this morning. This was his way of getting innocent revenge, he knew him being here would make you squirm at the thought of Aaron possibly finding out about you two. You shake the thought and get back into your over preppy robotic persona with the rest of your squad. You try to focus on the game but every few minutes you catch yourself glancing back at Oscar.

“Winning touch down by Mr.Aaron Cardenas!” The announcer shouts, the crowd going crazy as the home team wins a while later. You shout out in victory and do one final jump before your boyfriend comes over and picks you up.

“Did you see that?!” He asks out of breath as he spins you around one time.

“I did, good job.” You smile and wrap your arms around his neck. His face inching towards yours for a kiss,”You’re all sweaty.” You object and turn your head to the side, Aaron not liking this and setting you back down.

“It’s never been a problem before.” He says,”What’s going on Y/N?”

“Nothing, I already told you.” You say with a small reassuring smile,”Just go hop in the shower so we can get going. I don’t want to keep your parents waiting.”

“No, you’ve been being distant so I’m going to ask you again. What’s up? And don’t lie to me, we’ve known each other for far too long. Just be real with me Y/N.”

“I can’t tell you Aaron. At least not here, so please can we just hurry and go with your parents.” You tell him quietly as you look at anywhere but him.

“No.” He says with a shake of his head,”I’m done tonight. If you can’t be honest with me then what’s the point of us being together. It seems like we both need some time for our selves.”

“Aaron I.” You begin to object but get cut off by him.

“Stop.” He says with a sigh,”Hit me up when you actually want to act like a girlfriend, or don’t. I don’t care at this point.” With those final words he picks up his helmet and bag from the ground and heads for the locker rooms. You can’t help but get teary eyed as you gather the rest of your things, not bothering to shower or change. You just wanted to get out of here and fast.

“Where you think you going? Walking past me like I’m a fucking stranger.” Oscar smacks as you walk by him as he leaned on the hood of his car with his arms crossed,”You still ignoring me?”

“I’m going home.” You reply as you stop in your tracks and slowly turn to face him with tears in your eyes,”Can I please do that? I know you’re angry, but can we just do this tomorrow?”

“Get in the car.” He says as he pushes himself forward and snatches your bag,”Lets go.” He demands and tosses your belongings in the back before sliding into the drivers seat. A small huff escapes you as you walk over to the car and climb in. You didn’t really feel like walking anyway.

“Go on then. Take me home.” You say after buckling up.

“Nah.” He says with a shake of his head as he reaches into the back seat and grabs a rag,”And take that stupid shit off your face. You’re my girl not his.” Oscar orders as he tosses the rag into your lap.

“If you’re going to be a dick just let me get out right now.” You warn as you reach for the door handle.

“Chill. I’m just saying that I don’t want to see his fucking jersey number on your face.” He says as he stops your actions by pulling out of the parking spot.

“Yeah well he’s not a issue anymore, you obviously know that since I’m currently in your car and not with him.”

“Is that why you’re crying?” Oscar asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes.” You say as you wipe at a fallen tear with a shake of your head,”I feel like shit.”

“He found out about us?” He asks confusedly

“No. He just said that I was being distant and acting weird so he dumped me.”

“I don’t really see the problem ma.” Oscar shrugs,”You were going to break up with him anyway.”

“Yes Oscar but I still feel like a horrible person.” You snort,”You wouldn’t understand...and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” You add as you pull down the visor and begin to rub at your cheek with the rag.

Oscar doesn’t reply and opts for turning the radio on instead so you can recompose yourself. It’s not until the car is parked in the driveway that he speaks,”You gonna be okay?” He asks, annoyed at the reason you were upset but keeping it to himself so he could try to help you feel better.

“I’m okay.” You nod,”I just needed to get that out...and I did. So let’s go in, yeah?” You sniffle offering a small reassuring smile. You don’t regret what you had going on with Oscar because what you two shared was special. He made you feel things that Aaron never could, how could you regret that? The only thing that you wish you could change was how the whole relationship started. It’s to late for that though, now it’s time to live in the present. In the present with Oscar,”It’s our first sleep over and I promised you a little show. You don’t want to miss it, do you?” You smirk as you hurry out of the car, the older Diaz brother hot on your heels.

~

“Who’s girl are you?” Oscar asks sleepily as the two of you cuddle under his sheets after a few wild rounds.

“Your girl.” You reply with a lazy smile.

“Hm, that’s right.” He grins as he nuzzles his face into your neck,”Say it again.”

“I’m your girl. Only yours.”

“Yeah, my girl.” He says as he let’s his eyes close, the two of you dozing off moments later, this being the first night of many for you two.

[smoochkooks]

—the (un)holy cock-up (m.)

⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader

⟶ genre: smut, angst 

⟶ word count: 14.5k

⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, profanity, unnecessary amount of biblical puns, some critic on catholic church, this is a heavy read be aware

⟶ summary: there is a quite long list of circumstances, with student loan and rent on the very top of it, that led you to work in the sunday’s spirit editorial department, a newspaper overally known among fellow catholic community of busan, with park jimin as your boss.

when your small cock-up goes unnoticeably out of your hand, you find yourself in a situation painted in all shades of wrong.

or, alternatively: when it’s forbidden, it tastes bittersweet.

a/n: please, before you read this: take the warnings seriously. this is not a light read, it touches some heavy and quite controversial topics. tit also involves a scene where a person in charge exhibits inappropriate behavior towards their subordinate which I do not condone, however it’s all done with consent.

ps. im really proud of this work so give me some love please:(

Fingertips typing furiously on the keyboards, sights focused on the computers’ screens, brows furrowed, minds utterly concentrated and all of this accompanied by angelic voices of various religious songs playing in the background.

This is how a typical day at Sunday’s Spirit editorial department goes by.

The newspaper is a local source of information for the catholic community not only in the city of Busan, but in the whole country. Its history starts in 70s, when Park Min-Sung with his wife started publishing the very first version of the Sunday’s Spirit, selling copies in front of churches. Young activists definitely hadn’t anticipated such a big success, especially due to hard times of the military dictatorship in Korea, but two decades later they have become one of the most affluent families in Busan. The newspaper remains the Park’s legacy till these days, being owned by Min-Sung’s son, with the original founder’s grandson Jimin as an editor-in-chief.

Sometimes you ponder how did you end up in this kind of situation. Sitting at your desk with eyes glued to the screen, working for the catholic newspaper with Mary did you know and other holy songs playing from the Spotify’s Blessed Hits playlist.

First of all, you aren’t quite a Jesus stan yourself. Not a regular churchgoer, Bible reader or a person who lives according to God’s will with Ten Commandments written on your heart and soul.

Someone may wonder, what a young, aspiring journalist like you is doing here? Yes, that’s right.

Money is the reason.

The perspectives of wealthy life as a presenter in the national television or a host in the radio were just a mirage, because after receiving your master degree in journalism you realised that, unfortunately, a bright future was bright only in your unreal dreams.

The case was simple. You needed money. Your bank account was literally screaming at you to get your shit together and figure something out before you end up under the bridge. So you started searching for a job, looking over various offers on the Internet for two weeks straight. A waitress? Nah, too clumsy for that. Jewelry seller? Definitely not, since you are a happy owner of a few pairs of earrings from etsy-like online shop that certainly have nothing to do with real gold. You were almost convinced you’re destined to be a sexworker but then you stumbled upon an offer from the Sunday’s Spirit.

It was your chance. A God himself decided to take pity on you.

In that exact moment the genre of the newspaper wasn’t important. The vision of bankruptcy was enough for you to wear knee-length black skirt, white button-up shirt and a pair of high heels you’ve never worn before and go on a job interview with plastered smile on your face, looking delightful like you have just given birth to Jesus Christ in Bethlehem.

All the Hollywood actresses could be put into shame after your Oscar-winning performance you acted out on the interview in front of middle-aged woman in checked jacket that no one wears since 90s. Your enthusiasm and assurance you live good, catholic woman’s life, along with your master degree and motivational letter (you added a quote from The Letter to Philipians at the end of it to spice it up) was enough to be accepted for the position of Ask and you shall find column creator.

The job itself wasn’t complex or tough. The newspaper on its online site has a page where people can create an account and send asks to the author of the column who responds to them. You did something wrong and you aren’t sure it should be considered a sin? Having problems with regular praying on mornings and evenings? Write to us and we will solemnly help you with the God’s blessing, it says.

This is basically how it works. Each week, the said journalist chooses the most interesting questions and answers to make an article to the Sunday’s Spirit’s next publication. Of course, you can’t answer those questions the way you would like. You must do it according to the catholic laws and God’s plan (the True God’s plan, not Drake’s). A woman who interviewed you even gave you a notebook full of already made-up responses and a list of things you definetely mustn’t write if you still want to be employed.

To be completely frank, you don’t hate your job that much. You actually feel kind of nice, helping other people with their problems. You’ve been doing this for six months now and during this period of time you got used to some things.

A ‘Jesus, I trust you’ framed picture you swore your mother gave you on your 16th birthday standing on your desk. Holy beats blasting through the speakers until you leave the office at 5pm. A big-ass cross hanging right in front of the entrance to the editorial. Lee Chin-sun, the Weekly News column author, rushing to Park Jimin’s bureau every day at different hours in her pencil skirts and high heels knocking on the floor.

There’s only the Pentecost in the middle of the office that could actually surprise you.

“Looks like our Mary Magdalene is going to Jesus cave again,” mutters Kim Taehyung, the newspaper’s main photographer, friend from your desk and, actually, the only friend you have here. Very much gay and just like you, in desperate need for money. “It’s her third visit today. I wonder what it is this time. New prayer to Pope Francis she found?” he whispers and you chuckle at that quietly, looking around if anyone pays attention to your conversation, but everyone seems busy doing their own stuff. “Maybe she’s sucking his dick right now and we all think they are playing Who said it? Bible edition,” he adds in a hushed tone.

You start thinking about it for a while. Is that really possible for someone like Park Jimin, the editor-in-chief of the Sunday’s Spirit to have a sexual relationship with his coworker? The man who has a smaller version of Pietà in his office?

“I mean look at him. I would smash that ass too.”

You roll your eyes at Taehyung words, going back to your previous task but every time you try to concentrate, the face of your boss appears in front of your eyes uncontrollably.

Truth to be told, Park Jimin was a sight.

Blond hair, always perfectly styled and simply parted in the middle, revealing his forehead. Dark, sharp eyes that seem to pierce right through your soul and full, plump lips which could only be described as kissable.

He wears only high fashion brands, wandering through the office in Prada and Tom Ford suits that hugs his sculpted body just right. You think that as for a person who never misses Sunday’s mass, Park Jimin has also nice thighs. And a fine piece of ass, as Taehyung would describe it.

Newest Rolex that costs probably more than you will ever earn in your entire life on his wrist, Mercedes who just got brought out to the international market standing on his parking spot in front of the building, an apartment in the most luxurious area in Busan.

Park Jimin inhales God’s mercy and exhales money.

You spoke to him more explicitly only once, on your first day at work. He greeted you and wished good luck, saying that everything will be fine because you know, God’s good. Since that day, Park Jimin seems out of your reach. You contact him only through email, sending articles for him to check and approve, occasionally receiving some short message from him to improve this and that. He rarely leaves his office during working hours but when he does, it’s either for business meetings outside the editorial or for a lunch at nearby restaurant.

There’s also one, special occasion, every Friday, that’s a sacred time for all the employees. The clock hits 12am and so it begins. The angelic voices stop singing and everybody shifts on their sits.

“Oh, Holy Judas. I almost forgot about my favourite part of the week,” Taehyung sighs, standing up from his desk. And by that, he means-

“Friday’s Bible contemplation lunch break, everyone please gather up at the cafeteria.” Park Jimin’s sweet as honey voice says through the speakers.

You stand up from your chair with reluctance. Taking food with you, you go to the cafeteria, following Taehyung.

That’s actually the next thing you got used to while working at Sunday’s Spirit. Bible contemplation meetings are, as you found out from Taehyung, Jimin’s idea after he became an editor-in-chief almost one year ago. Every Friday all the workers sit together, eat their lunches and listen to Jimin as he reads a certain chapter from the book with true admiration written on their faces. After that, he usually asks some questions holding a discussion among the participants who, unlike you, happily takes part in.

The cafeteria looks rather normal, like any other lunchrooms you see in offices. Painted in bright yellow colors, with a few tables and a typical kitchen set in the back. Except for one thing.

A replica of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper hanging on the wall.

You decided a long time ago that you don’t want to know how much money it cost Jimin to have something like that here.

The newspaper’s workers, almost like the twelve Apostles, sit together by the tables. Lee Chin-sun at the very front, looking completely mesmerized by today’s Park Jimin’s appearance. He’s wearing navy blue suit that Taehyung swears it’s from Hugo Boss. The place next to Chin-sun is always occupied by tall, black-haired guy named Choi Eunwoo, main graphic designer, hopelessly in love with her since his first days at work. Behind them there’s a group from emendation department, with their leader Min Yoongi and other journalists. You always sit with Taehyung at the back, near the kitchen, not necessarily paying attention to what’s happening in the front.

Jimin, as on every Friday, walks to the small podium, designed to look like a pulpit in the church and opens the Bible. But one thing is odd: Jimin ain’t no priest or altar boy himself and he certainly dosen’t look like one, flipping through the pages of what you think it’s New Testament this time.

From your point of view, you could practically see how Chin-sun sighs with content expression on her face, lacing her fingers together on the lap and straightening her back. Eunwoo, on the other hand, shifts uncomfortably on his seat, sending Chin-sun quick glances full of unspoken longing she never acknowledges, to his dismay.

Then, Park Jimin clears his throat and the whole cafeteria goes quiet.

Truth to be told, you never really listen to what he’s reading. This time is no different. You just chew on your avocado sandwich, occasionally taking a sip of coffee. Your boss’ smooth voice reaches your ears faintly but you don’t pay attention to it, focusing on eating and Taehyung’s hushed rumbling instead.

“Look at our Mary Magdalene, she looks like she might burst a nut just by listening to CEO Jesus,” he says, making you peek at the girl.

Mary Magdalene is a nickname that Taehyung made up for Chin-sun when he started working at Sunday’s Spirit, mainly because of her attitude and relationship with Jimin. It’s rather platonic, at least for now. She looks at him with pure admiration on her face and she literally melts everytime he smiles at her. But Chin-sun’s ‘stalking’ isn’t unreasonable. Her father is a well-known philanthropist in Busan. He donates catholic charities, churches and, what’s the most interesting – he has some connections with Jimin’s father, the owner of Sunday’s Spirit.

And here’s the thing: Chin-sun’s hare and hounds definitely have some hidden reason. Maybe the whole marriage thing that has become a gossip in the office is true. Which makes poor Eunwoo’s situation even worse.

“Sometimes I wonder why has he fallen in love with her in first place,” you whisper, pointing at the graphic designer. “He knows he stands no chance against Jimin.”

“What can I say, you can’t help who you fall in love with.” Taehyung muses almost poetically, shrugging his shoulders.

You hum at that, placing your coffee cup on the table and looking around the cafeteria. It seems like Jimin has ended his reading session for today and now he invites everyone to join the discussion about the topic. He flashes Chin-sun a gentle smile and you could swear the girl is biting her lip.

On the corner of your eye you see Taehyung smirking.

“What?” you ask.

Taehyung takes a sip of his coffee lazily (it’s always caramel macchiato), peering at Jimin. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if our boss really wants to settle not only with Chin-sun, but anyone in general,” he says languidly.

You furrow your brows. “What makes you think that? I mean, look at him. He probably waits with sex till marriage.” you snort.

Taehyung chuckles at your words. “Ah, sweetheart, you really know nothing about Park Jimin.”

“What do you mean?”

He moves closer to you, leaning towards your ear. “What I mean,” he whispers, “is that Park Jimin isn’t such a prude everyone thinks he is. At least he didn’t use to be.”

You raise your eyebrows at him with disbelief. “What? He’s secretly gay?” you mock.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I wish, but no, he isn’t,” he answers with a sigh. “Do you know Min Yoongi from emendation team?” he then asks, pointing at grey-haired man with feline eyes sitting behind Chin-sun.

You nodd your head. Min Yoongi is a hard to read guy. Always suspiciously silent, practically never leaves his office. Something makes you wonder how did Taehyung end up befriending him enough to casually gossip about the boss. You will ask him about this on another occasion.

“So here’s the thing,” Taehyung begins, lowering the volume of his voice. “He used to study at the same university in Seoul with Jimin. They even had been together in the fraternity. Yoongi-hyung told me some juicy details about our boss’ life back then.”

You frown at his words. “And you are telling me this now?!” you hiss.

“I found out literally two days ago!” Taehyung exclaims, maybe a little too loud, so you quickly place your index finger on your lips, shushing him.

“Fine. Continue.” you whisper, looking around to see if anyone pays attention to you.

“Well, Park Jimin used to be a trouble back then. A golden boy of his family in Busan, but a campus fuckboy and obnoxious heartbreaker in Seoul. He smoked cigarettes, drank enormous amounts of alcohol, got wasted on every weekend, missed classes and changed hair colors as often as his girlfriends. By the way, don’t you think he would slay pink hair?”

“Taehyung can you please–”

“Okay, okay. Enough thirsting over Jimesus. So, as you can see, there was no place for Sunday’s mass and Bible contemplation meetings in his life. And here’s the awaited plotwist. His parents somehow found out his son wasn’t living good catholic life on his studies and got extremely pissed off. They simply gave him an ultimatum: if he doesn’t stop his shenanigans, they will cut him off their money and they won’t make him Sunday’s Spirit heir.” Taehyung stops his rumbling for a while, letting you proceed all the bewildering informations about your dear boss he has just revealed.

Your eyes simply widen at the revelations.

Park Jimin, the man who organises Bible contemplation lunch breaks, a regular churchgoer, someone who you always thought has a cross tattooed on his back, was a playboy who slept with a half of the female community in the university?

Interesting.

“Rest of the story is simple. He changed his behavior, got a master degree in journalism and came back to Busan to work here. What is funny, his first position was the same as yours now,” Taehyung ends his story with a light chuckle. “Now you understand why it’s hard for me to believe he really thinks about getting married and having at least three kids.”

You look up at Park Jimin, who’s standing now in the centre of the cafeteria, with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding at one of the journalists words. His gaze is so intense and filled with such an authority that makes you understand why Chin-sun literally squirms when he looks at her that way.

It’s not hard for you to imagine him in much different surroundings.

Him, standing with a cup of beer in his hand in the middle of the crowd of drunken people at some frat party. There’s a leather jacket on his shoulders and he’s wearing tight-fitting pants that hugs his gorgeous thighs much better than his usual slacks he puts on every day before he sets off to work. He scans the room with a mishevious smirk dancing on his features, biting and licking his lips as he looks for his prey for tonight.

He then spots her, his pick for the night. He runs his fingers through his silky locks and approaches the girl, whispering dirty promises to her ear as he sways their bodies to the rhythm of loud music blasting through the speakers. Later that night he has her underneath him, begging him to touch her. He fucks her hard, leaving bruises all over her limp, exhausted body. There will be soreness between her thighs in the morning and a few violet love bites on her neck, a gentle reminder that all of this wasn’t just a dream.

But there’s no warm body next to her she could wake up to, no ‘good morning, baby’ or a second round of love making between the sheets. Because Park Jimin isn’t like that. He waited until her breath slowed down and eyelids fluttered shut, drifting her off to sleep. He left in the middle of the night, a cigarette caught between his swollen from kisses lips. He fumed the poison and smiled to himself, wondering what his parents would think when they found out. A golden boy of his family, future heir of the Park’s legacy, coming back from one of his sexcapeds with girl which name he didn’t even remember.

The Lord himself must have already cursed him and he’s currently planning the punishments for him in depths of Hell. But does Park Jimin look like he really care?

You stare blankly ahead, imagining those scenes in your head. You can’t help but squeeze your thighs because God, yes, Park Jimin is hot, even if he reads Breviary before he goes to sleep. What a shame he has changed. 

A smooth like honey voice pulls you out from your airy-fairy slumber.

“Miss Y/N?”

You jolt in panic after hearing your name, glancing around and praying that wasn’t the person you think it was. But this silky, melodious voice you would recognize everywhere.

God hates you though, he knows what kind of scandalous things you were daydreaming about and now it’s his time to punish you.

Looking up, your gaze settles on no one other than Park Jimin, who stares at you with his left eyebrow raised, pursing his lips. He extinguishes the aura of pure dominance around him and you involuntarily blush, squirming under his intense glare. You’re royally screwed.

You clear your throat, trying to calm down rapidly beating heart. Without success.

“Yes, sir?” you manage to answer innocently. Certainly not like you weren’t thinking about being fucked by him minutes ago. You don’t even have time to be surprised he remembers your name.

Park Jimin looks unamazed by your sweet tone; he almost seems bored, but definitely irritated. “I asked you a question and I’m waiting for your response.” he says lowly.

Fuckfuckfuck. God have mercy on you. What was the question? Shit, you don’t even know what fragment he had read before.

In act of complete desperation you elbow Taehyung for help but this little shit pretends he has no idea what’s going on, looking at The Last Supper with sudden interest.

You are purely, loyally, utterly fucked.

You adopt the most charming smile you could muster, knowing that it will have zero affect on Park Jimin and ask, “Could you repeat the question one more time, sir? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you correctly.” Jesus, when has your voice become so high-pitched?

A cruel smirks forms on Park Jimin’s lips. He shakes his head, tsking. Taehyung mutters something under his breath that sounds dangerously close to “It was nice meeting you, sweetheart.” You gulp, waiting for your sentence and hoping Pontius Pilate will be gracious to you.

“My, my,” Jimin muses. It makes you feel like a little girl being scolded by the teacher due to her outrageous behavior. You bite your lip so hard you might draw blood, waiting for your boss’ next words. “Of course you didn’t hear my question, because you weren’t paying attention to our discussion.”

In the corner of your eye you see Chin-sun shaking her head with detestation. What a bitch, you think to yourself.

You take a deep breath then, nails digging crescent moons on the skin of your palms. You don’t like being in the spotlight, you never did, but now you have no choice but face the consequences. “My deepest apologies, sir. The behavior I exhibited was highly inappropriate,” you say, bowing your head. Jimin eyes your figure from head to toe and you might actually feel his burning gaze on your skin. Your cheeks flush in crimson even more.

The editor-in-chief seems to deliberate with himself for a while, turning his head slightly to the side, not breaking the eye contact with you. Finally, after a moment that seems to last an hour, he speaks.

“I think you need a lesson that will teach you to pay attention to our weekly discussions, miss Y/N. That’s why I want you to write a 4000 words long paper about the role of Mary Magdalene in Jesus Christ’s life which we had discussed today but you, unfortunately, didn’t acknowledge it.”

You freeze. Like a scene in the movie, everything stops. The embarassement you felt earlier is quickly replaced by pure anger and irritation. He wants you to write a fucking paper? What is this? University lectures?

Never before in your entire life have you felt so humiliated. All eyes are on you; you could practically sense how they are trying not to laugh out loud. Eunwoo and Taehyung look at you with apologetic faces while Chin-sun smirks, whispering something to Jimin’s ear.

“I apologize once again, sir,” you grit through your teeth with a forced smile. Jimin nods then, not even bothering to look at you again. You’re dismissed, that’s what his behavior is saying.

“Our meeting is over, you can go back to your work.” Jimin announces and walks away from the cafeteria with Chin-sun by his side.

You wait for everyone to leave and the you let out a groan of annoyance, burring your head in your hands.

“Hey, it could have been worse. He didn’t fire you after all.” Taehyung laughs but he quickly shuts up as soon as he sees your glare. You stand up from your chair with a scowl written all over your face, and storm out of the lunchroom.

And may the God help you.

Later that unfortunate day, you sit by your desk again, scrolling through the Ask and you shall find page absentmindedly and waiting for the new asks to come. Everyone has returned to their work like nothing has happened but it doesn’t stop you from feeling all those eyes constantly on your back. Maybe you weren’t fired but the humiliation and embarrassment of being told off by your boss publicly makes you want to disappear and never show up at the editorial again.

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up at him and find the man smiling at you lightly. He’s wearing a long, camel coat and a big scarf around his neck with ridiculous patterns that reminds you of Persian diwans. He places his black camera bag on the desk, which means he’s leaving the office. “I’m free of office work for today so I just wanted to say goodbye.” he explains and you just nod.

“Bye, Taehyung. See you on Monday.” you say maybe a little bit to wryly and he feels that, letting out a long sigh.

Taehyung seems to deliberate with himself for a moment before he decides to speak again. He clears his throat audibly. “And I, uhm, I’m sorry. It’s my fault that you are in this situation. I started this conversation and I should be the one writing this stupid paper for Mister Prude.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the new nickname Taehyung gave Jimin. The anger you felt before drifts away from you slowly, and you smile at your friend apologetically. “Oh, God, Tae. I’m such a bitch sometimes, sorry,” you blurt out.”I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him. Besides, maybe that’s good I’ve got homework. I don’t remember when was the last time I wrote some-”

Your words are interrupted by a loud laugh that resonates through the office. You look in the direction of the voice just to see Chin-sun with her manicured hand on Jimin’s chest, throwing her head back from the laughter, too dramatically for your taste. She seems to have changed her clothes, a black pencil skirt long forgotten and replaced by a red, bodycon dress. Her dark hair is also styled differently, curled and loose. She looks beautiful, matching Jimin’s appearance perfectly.

“Where are they going?” Taehyung whispers to you, furrowing his brows. You shrug your shoulders, tearing your eyes of Chin-sun and Jimin. “Maybe our Mary Magdalene’s plan to win Jesus’ heart is working. Poor Eunwoo,” he sighs, looking at his watch to check the time. “Anyway, I gotta go. I have to drive all the way to some shithole near the city to take photos of an old lady who swears she saw saint Francis or other dude with halo speaking to her,” he grumbles and you giggle at his words. “Good luck with your paper, sweetheart.” he leans and places a small peck on your cheek.

“Bye, Tae.” you say, watching him leave the office right after Jimin and Chin-sun.

You let out a long, tired sigh, counting the time to leave the office and finally be back home, with a bottle of red wine and new season of Game of Thrones that are waiting for you to watch the whole week. Then, when you’re about to stand up and make yourself another coffee, a new ask pops up in your inbox with the title ‘Sex S.O.S’.

You raise your eyebrows because honestly, what kind of title is this? Curiosity wins the battle with a hot cup of an americano and you click the show more button. You put on your prescription glasses and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyfriend. And here’s where the actual problem begins. I’m from the catholic family with long traditions, and as you can guess, he isn’t.

We’ve been together for almost 2 years now and since my parents don’t want me to live with him before the marriage, there’s also no sexual life between us. I was actually surprised they agreed I can date a non-religious person in first place, so the rules weren’t that horrible at the beginning.

My boyfriend always seemed to be understanding about the fact that I’m catholic and he has never had issues against it because I stated this on the start of our relationship, but lately… he’s been distant. We meet up less often and I feel like simple kissing after 2 years isn’t enough for him. I even thought about initiating something that wouldn’t necessarily involve the real intercourse but I’m too inexperienced and shy for that. We are slowly drifting apart.

I don’t know what to do. I love him so much and I don’t want to lose him just because of some stupid rules I need to follow. I’m scared he will leave me for some other beautiful girl who wouldn’t have anything against sleeping with him, especially after considering the fact that he isn’t virgin unlike me and he experienced this kind of pleasure before.

I hope you will help me.

Yours faithfully,

Kang Seoyeon.

You blink once, twice. Read the message again and then, something snaps in you.

To Hell with these stupid, old-fashioned rules straight from the Middle Ages. To Hell with celibacy till marriage, masturbation prohibition and living according to God’s will. To Hell with Park Jimin and his ridiculous moral code (and his Bible contemplation lunchbreaks).

Unofficial eleventh commandment: If a girl wants a dick, she deserves to have it.

And that’s exactly what your response to the girl is in a nutshell.

Your blood boils in your veins with anger as you’re typing furiously on the keyboard, not even bothering to check if your sudden outburst makes any sense.

Dear Seoyeon,

It’s Y/N here, the journalist who you wrote this message to.

I don’t know what kind of response are you expecting from me but honestly? If you think I’m going to recommend you some praying to Saint Rita then you’re wrong. I’m done with this shit.

Let me make this straight: if you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy.

They are plenty of worse things in this world than having sex with the person you love. Look at me. I’m literally writing to catholic newspaper while using words like ‘God’ and ‘Fuck’ in the same sentence. And that’s not even a small piece of what I’ve done in my life.

So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this. You have my blessings and Jesus is giving you metaphysical thumbs up from above. Sex is amazing thing and you don’t have to wait for it until you say ‘yes’ in front of some guy in black cassock. Just go with the flow.

 May the God help you!

Love, Y/N.

P.S. Watch out that guy. He seems suspicious. If he’s been really sex deprived for two years he will die after you give him a head.

Sent.

You exhale loudly, staring at the screen. You did that. Six months into working in Sunday’s Spirit and the time when you lost your temper has finally come. You should probably feel ashamed or have some type of conscience pangs but actually you aren’t even near this state.

Grinning to yourself, you delete the message you had sent to the girl from your inbox and check the time. It’s almost 5pm and it looks like you haven’t even realised you’re the only person at the office right now. Since it’s Friday and Jimin has already left, seems like everyone has decided to set off earlier too.

You turn off your computer, packing your things to the bag. Wrapping a scarf around your neck tightly, you leave the building, welcoming the coolness of the early Spring evening in Busan.

When you’re about to cross the street, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your coat. You stop for a moment, smiling to yourself when you read the message.

[04:23pm] from Tae: hey

[04:23pm] from Tae: i know you are probably planning an evening with mary magdalene n jesus but

[04:23pm] from Tae: wouldnt u want to go for drinks with me tonight?

[04:23pm] from Tae: same place as usual

[04:24pm] from Tae: as a wise man once said: nothing helps better for the writer’s block than vodka

[04:24pm] from Tae: so what do u say?

You don’t need to think twice when you quickly type a response. Game of Thrones and wine can wait till another time.

[04:26pm] from me: how could i say no to kim taehyung and vodka?

[04:26pm] from me: see u there

Kim’s is a place like no one other in Busan.

You wouldn’t even know about its existence if it wasn’t Taehyung who took you there first when you started working at Sunday’s Spirit, solemnly promising free drinks. Who would you be if you didn’t agree to that?

When you arrived at the bar, it eventually turned out the alcohol was costless hence it’s his family business since over thirty years and his brother Namjoon is a bartender, not because Taehyung willingly decided to pay for you.

Kim’s is located in rather industrial part of the city, sandwiched between factories and huge housing estates, not looking really inviting at first glance, but the place has its own, unique charm. There are some stories, shrouding the building’s history in mystery. Some people say it used to be headquarters of the most dangerous mafia in Busan, some even believe it served as the secret arsenal during the Korean War.

But what’s definitely true, it’s the fact that Taehyung’s parents bought this place in swinging times of 80s for a small amount of money and turned the place into disco bar which had become a must-go spot for young people in Busan.

Kim’s on the outside, with its large red neon sign hanging above the entrance, looks more like a night club than a bar, but on the inside the magic of kitschy 80s still remains the same (Taehyung swears retro is in fashion these days and that’s why he didn’t let his parents redecorate when they wanted to).

You always feel like you’re traveling back in time when you visist Kim’s.

The place is quite big, with a large dancefloor in the middle and red leather sofas strewn around the place along with the tables. Walls are made of brick and colorful, vibrant neon lights are shimmering on them. Oh, not to mention the huge disco ball on the ceiling. Everything accompanied with the quality music provided by Namjoon.

There are few billiard and foosball tables in the corner of the bar, always occupied by the same group of middle-aged men on weekdays and university students on weekends. But the thing that attract attention of the customers the most, is the bar with Namjoon behind it.

When you enter the place, you spot Taehyung and his blond mop of hair immediately. He sits on one of the bar stools, talking to his older brother. He’s wearing beige pants and floral button-up shirt that seems to match colors with his pinkish-looking drink he holds. You notice a new pair of sapphire earrings and a huge ring from the same collection on his forefinger. Classy, as always.

Taehyung grins broadly when he sees you. He puts his drink on the counter and stands up to greet you. His breath smells like strawberries and vodka when he leans to place his usual, small peck on your cheek. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says with his signature smirk plastered on his face, scanning your figure. “You look gorgeous. Last time you did this kind of make-up you wanted to get laid.”

You rolls your eyes at his words, sitting on a stool next to him. “Hi, Taehyung. Thank you for appreciating my efforts to look like a decent human being but no, I’m not planning on getting laid tonight.” you answer, waving to Namjoon who makes drinks for a group of girls a few meters from you. He smiles bashfully at you, showing his dimples.

“I’m not saying you want a fuck, calm down. I just assumed since it’s not everyday that you put eyeliner on,” Taehyung explains himself. “So let me do that again,” He takes a deep breath, placing a hand on his chest in a dramatic manner. “Y/N, you look absolutely breathtaking. I could stare at you for hours and I wouldn’t mind that even a bit. My homosexuality is at risk right now.”

You ignore his exeggarated outburst, rolling your eyes. “I’m not using eyeliner everyday because there’s something called dresscode in our work, you know?” you say. “Besides, my mum says you should look good on every occasion because you don’t know when you will meet the love of your life.”

Taehyung puts a hand on his heart and sighs with relief. “Thank God I always look good.”

You chuckle and then your eyes wander for a moment to Namjoon, who seems busy listening to whatever the pink-haired girl is telling him with polite smile on his face.

“Here,” Taehyung nudges your side, bringing your attention back to him. He hands you the same pinkish drink as he was drinking when you arrived. “Hyung told me it’s their new specialty or something. It’s called Flamingo’s Beach,” he says and you take the glass in your hand. “I have no idea what Namjoonie-hyung put here but as long as it looks good, it’s good. Cheers!” Taehyung sips his one and watches you with raised eyebrows as you’re taking a generous gulp of the drink. “And…?” he asks.

You lick your lips, humming to yourself. “Not bad. Tastes like strawberries.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to say something but he gets interrupted by his brother. “Y/N, hi. How are you?” Namjoon approaches you with two beer mugs in his hands.

His hair is back to his natural brown color now, purple strands long forgotten since the last time you saw him. It looks like he’s been working out lately, his posture more bulky and it makes his black shirt stick to his body tightly. Namjoon’s good-looking, you always knew that, but he seems to be even more handsome now.

“Hey, I’ve been good, thank you,” you greet him with maybe too much enthusiasm for your liking. You always had a weak spot for him. “How’s the bar going?” you ask.

“Busy, as you can see,” he replies, chuckling to himself. “I would love to talk to you more but I have some work to do in back room, so…” Namjoon trails off sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

“Oh, it’s okay. We can catch up another time.” You smile at him and you could swear his cheeks flushed.

“I’ll be going. See you.” Namjoon stammers out, not even waiting for your response before he disappears from your sight.

The pregnant silence sets in between you and Taehyung, something heavy hangs in the air and you feel it, tapping your fingers on the counter to the rhythm of one of the ABBA songs, waiting impatiently.

Taehyung looks like he’s debating with himself in his head. You narrow your eyes. He’s adopted a face you know pretty well, too well even. He looks everywhere but keep avoiding your gaze. He wants to ask you something, you’re sure of it, but he doesn’t know how.

Finally, after a moment of awkward quietness, Taehyung finally opens his mouth. “So, here’s the thing,” he starts and you wait for the bomb to drop.

Last time when he approached you like that, he asked you if you would be down for a threesome with him and some guy he met on Tinder. Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you heard his blunt proposition. You were eating lunch at cafeteria and the words casually slipped from between his lips as he chewed on his egg sandwich, like he didn’t just propose you having sex with him and instead asked for a lift to home after work.

Taehyung begged you for a whole week, pleading and convincing it’ll be fun. When you eventually agreed (sex draught make people do stupid things), the other guy didn’t show up. You ended up drinking tequila shots with Taehyung that night in his apartment, and you can’t quite recall how it happened, but somehow you found yourself unzipping your friend’s pants and the rest is history. He passed out right after he came. Now when you think about it, you feel a sudden urge to ask him if he remembers that.

You will do it next time, you promise yourself.

Taehyung though doesn’t ask you about having a threesome or robbing Park Jimin’s house this time. His intentions are pretty much different.

“See, Namjoon split up with his girlfriend few weeks ago,” he says and you prick your ears. “He’s not in good condition right now, as you can see. It was a nasty break up, he found out she’s been cheating on him,” He lets out a long sigh. You bite your lip, imagining Namjoon’s disappointed face when he discovered the truth. What a bitch cheats on someone like him? “So, I thought maybe you could… cheer him up a little bit?” Taehyung ends hesitantly, with a glint of hope in his eyes.

You frown. Cheer him up? Did he just imply what you think about?

“Look, I get it, he’s sad and angry, but what the fuck, Taehyung? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to be his rebound? Make him forget?” you exclaim. Taehyung quickly shakes his head but you don’t let him say anything. “I feel sorry for Namjoon but I’m not going to take advantage of him when he’s literally still hurt.”

“No, it’s not like that!” Taehyung rushes to explain. “Well, maybe it sounded like that but I swear, I didn’t mean that!”

“Then what should I do? Wipe his tears? Tell him a joke? Or maybe-”

“Of course he wants you to suck his brother’s heartbroken dick, doll.”

A sudden, low voice interrupts your conversation. Your eyes follow the direction when it comes from, looking to Taehyung’s left where not even a meter away a very familiar grey-haired man with feline eyes sits.

“Min Yoongi,” you say matter-of-factly.

The leader of emendation team from Sunday’s Spirit editorial raises his hand in which he holds whiskey, greeting you and Taehyung. “Hello, doll. Hello, Taehyung,” he says, not even bothering to look at you.

You elbow Taehyung searching for explanation but he shrugs his shoulders, turning to face the man as well.

“First of all, since when do you call me ‘doll’? We have never spoken a word to each other. Secondly, how long have you been sitting here and listening?” you ask Yoongi.

He snorts, smirking. “Long enough to know how Taehyung comforts his brother after break up.” he simply answers and Taehyung’s cheeks blush in crimson at his words.

“You come here often? I’ve never seen you here before,” you continue, crossing your arms over chest.

Next to you Taehyung lets out a sigh. “Yes, he does. Albeit I haven’t seen him for a while here,” You look at him in confusion. “Yoongi-hyung is Namjoonie-hyung close friend from university days.” he clarifies.

You raise your eyebrows at that. “So Namjoon went to the same school as Park Jimin?”

“Not the same. We met under different circumstances.” Yoongi cuts in.

“They’ve been together in underground rap group, or some shit. Didn’t like each other at first but eventually stuck together till the end of studies.” Taehyung ends and grey-haired man nods.

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“What’s funny in that?” Yoongi scowls.

“Nothing. I just imagined you and Namjoon in snapbacks, rapping about the unfairness of social hierarchy,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, you may believe me or not, but we even made a mixtape.” Yoongi reveals proudly, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Your eyes widen in curiosity. “Then what happened? Why aren’t you in Seoul now, still producing music? Why do you work in this stupid newspaper and Namjoon’s a bartender?” you ask interrogatively.

“Life happened, doll. We didn’t have enough money to publish our works so we decided to quit it.”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

You could see the nostalgia written across Yoongi’s face. You feel sorry for him, for Namjoon. Everything is always about the money. That’s why you’re working in Sunday’s Spirit even though it was never your dream in first place. Even though you have much higher ambitions than being Ask and you shall find column author.

Ever since you were little, you loved writing. You never complained, not even once, when your teachers in school assigned you to write something. They kept saying you have an extraordinary talent and it would be a shame if you didn’t do anything with that.

During your high school years, you were the leader of school newspaper’s team, still writing your own works every time you didn’t have something different to do. After that, you got to the university in Seoul, your another dream came true. You got a master degree, an apprenticeship in the Korean version of highly popular, world-widely known magazine. And then, nothing. No job applications available. No newspapers or publishing companies wanting you, dismissing you right away because they didn’t have any vacant places.

This is how Sunday’s Spirit, even if that’s not your dream job, happened. And quite literally saved your ass.

“I’m sorry.” you say after a while.

Yoongi smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be. What’s in past, stays in past.” he ends the conversation, drinking the rest of his whiskey.

You find this as a perfect possibility to do what you’ve come here for: get wasted, forget about this prick Park Jimin and his stupid assignment. You turn around on your stool to face the bar again, calling for the red-haired bartender named Hoseok who’s substituting Namjoon right now. You order a round of tequilla shots and quickly pours two of them in one go.

“Easy, tiger,” Taehyung teases, still sipping his pink drink as you wipe your chin with the back of your hand. Taehyung has stated a long time ago that he enjoys only casual drinking, which makes you and you lightweightness snort at him.

“Loser,” you mumble under your breath, deep down knowing you’re oh so much going to regret this after.

You focus your attention on the dancefloor now; technicolor lights glittering as the crowd of sweaty people bounce to old Madonna hits. You feel like your spirit might actually experience new kind of awakening during the chorus in Like a Virgin. You mouth the lyrics, the vodka already half-way to your bopping head. Your drunken self almost asks Taehyung and Yoongi if they would agree to be your backup dancers.

You eyes scan the room carefully and then, you spot him. He’s sitting in the corner, his arms splayed over the backrest of the red couch. A devil himself. A black horseman of the Apocalypse. A man who looks like every girl’s next mistake. Taylor Swift’s ‘we are never ever getting back together’.

A true sin.

Jet-black hair parted in the middle, onyx eyes and lucious smirk written across his lips as he bites them purposefully. He’s wearing a leather jacket and you wonder for a while if you would find inked tattoos on his body. He cocks his head to the side, his eyes glued to the same spot as he waits for something, or rather someone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, not even hiding your curiosity at this point.

Taehyung turns around as well, his eyes glancing to the dark-haired man briefly. “Ah, this, sweetheart, is Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin’s best friend.” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You raise your eyebrows, watching as Jungkook’s face expression immediately changes when waitress approaches him. He says something to her that makes her roll her eyes. She tightens her grip around the tray she’s holding, asking him for his order.

“Don’t worry. You are not the only one thirsting over him. I would let him top me too,” Taehyung whispers to your ear and you flinch.

“I’m not thirsting over him! I came her for drinks, not to get laid, I told you.”

“Okay, okay, loosen up a little. Tequilla makes you aggressive. Besides, it looks like he’s got his pick for tonight.”

Jungkook stretches out his hand and fixes the waitress’ glasses that seem to rode down her nose a little. The girl frozes in place because of his action and he grins, calling her cute.

“He’s trying to ask her out for two months,” Yoongi interrupts suddenly, again. It looks like he has nothing better to do tonight. “I’m serious. He’s here every Friday. Normally, he would have given up after the second time she had rejected him but there’s might be something in this girl that makes his dick hard and his heart soft.”

Jungkook’s eyes girl’s body as she bends to pick up the glasses from other tables and maybe that’s the alcohol swimming in your veins but you could swear his face lights up when she sends him another irritated glare when he calls her name.

“Does Park Jimin comes here often as well?” you ask before you could stop yourself.

Both Taehyung and Yoongi shake their heads.

“I don’t think so. Jeon comes here because he lives nearby in this huge ass apartment complex. His father runs a chemical factory and he works there.” Taehyung explains.

Jeon? Chemical factory? Something clicks in your brain. Right, you know who his father is. The King of Washing Powder. Another rich as fuck Busan’s snob.

“God, I hate him. I fucking hate him. What a prick. Douchebag. Asshole of the century,” The string of profanities leaves poor waitress’ mouth as she walks to the counter with tray in her hands. “How’s your day, love? You look beautiful today, love. Fucking leave me alone, love!” she mutters to herself, taking the beer mugs from Hoseok abruptly which makes the bartender raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“How’s your assignment about Mary Magdalene going on, doll?” Yoongi asks then, startling you.

You roll your eyes at him. “I literally got it today, Yoongi. I haven’t started yet.” you answer, gulping another shot.

On the corner of your eye you see Yoongi’s smirking. “I’m surprised, to be honest. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t pay attention to shit Jimin’s says,” he trails off. “I work for him from the moment he started this ridiculous Bible lunch breaks and I swear, he’s never called out someone like that before.”

“What do you mean he’s never called out someone before?” Taehyung joins in curiously.

“Look, I slept through the majority of these sessions and Jimin knows it, but he has never lecture me about it,” Yoongi remarks. “Maybe you’re an exception. Or he’s become more strict because of this bitch Chin-sun.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. You know Chin-sun has been making heart eyes for Jimin for a long time but what why it might have an influence on his behavior?

“Lee Chin-sun? What the office’s Mary Magdalene has to do with that? Besides the fact that she’s drooling for his dick every time she sees him,” Taehyung snorts.

Yoongi chuckles lowly. “Oh, so you two really know nothing about what’s going on between them right now,”

“What’s going on right now? Spill.” Taehyung says abruptly. You sigh when you see the way his eyes flicker with mischeviousness. One thing Taehyung loves more than photography and fashion is gossiping (and dicks).

“First of all, Chin-sun is a fucking bigot. And well… she might be closer to being miss Park than we thought.” Yoongi muses.

Taehyung eyebrows practically disappear in his hairline. You’re sure you mirror his expression right now.

Yoongi asks Hoseok for another glass of whiskey and continues. “My friend Seokjin’s wife is Jimin’s personal assistant and secretary. She heard this and that, quite juicy things I must say,” he says in a lower tone, like he’s revealing government secrets to them. You lean closer into his direction along with Taehyung. “Chin-sun’s father recently bought the claims to the most popular, conservative TV station in whole South Korea. But, what is more interesting, it looks like Park senior has some shares in it as well.”

You’re astonished. You knew there’s something looming in the air but you didn’t expect this. A TV station? Even your slightly drunken brain can calculate it’s very interesting.

“So the marriage between Chin-sun and Jimin would be pretty convenient for their families, especially after considering the fact that Jimin is the heir.” Yoongi adds, gulping the first sip of his new whiskey.

“Poor Eunwoo,” you whisper to yourself.

“But why so soon? Why do they want to legalize their relationship so suddenly?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh. “There’s a rumour going around that Jimin’s father isn’t in good condition right now. Seokjin-hyung mentioned something about the heart disease. So, if that’s really true, you have the answer why he wants his eldest son to settle down already. Everything’s about the money, I told you.”

Taehyung whistles. “Woah, so Mary Magdalene is really about to be CEO Jesus’ wife soon!” he exclaims, clapping his hands. “Brilliant. Finally something spicy is happening in this boring editorial.”

“I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic if I were you, Taehyung. This kind of business never ends well,” Yoongi says coldly, placing his glass on the counter and standing up from the stool. He glances at his watch and throws a few bills next to his empty glass. “I’ll get going. It was nice talking to you, doll.”

“What about me?”

“Shut up, Taehyung, you’re not pretty lady.”

“I feel offended.”

“And I don’t care,” Yoongi mutters. Maybe that was alcohol swimming in her veins but you saw Taehyung lifting the corners of his lips in amusement. Weird. “Good luck on your assignment, doll. See you all on Monday.” Yoongi glances to your way one last time, adjusting his jacket.

“Bye, Yoongi.” you wave to him and a small, even sincere smile appears on his face when he as well raises his hand lazily and leaves. “Why didn’t you tell me he’s actually nice, Tae? I was always too scared to start a conversation with him because I felt intimidated.” you say after a while.

“I’m sorry, should have I set you up for a date with him?” Taehyung mocks.

A groan escapes your lips. “Could you please stop insinuating things?”

“You need to get laid, seriously. Like soon-soon. You get easily irritated recently. You need a d i c k,”

“I don’t need a dick!”

“A cock, Y/N,” Taehyung emphasizes. “A penis in your precious vagina.”

“Shut up!”

Several shots and a few drunken dances to Cindi Lauper and Bon Jovi, you’re pretty much wasted. And maybe, just maybe, you need a dick. And Taehyung, like a dipshit he always is, thinks that’s actually funny.

“Don’t wanna homff,” you slur, supporting your weight on Taehyung’s arm that shakes with laughter at your drunken antics, as well as his whole body. “I wanna danfce witfh somebodyyy,”

“Holy Mother of Jesus, you must be really drunk if you started referring to Whitney Houston’s songs. And you smell like booze,” Taehyung mutters under his breath and you whine, tugging on his arm.

“TaeTae, Taehyungie, pffleasee, can we go back?”

Taehyung ignores your grumbling completely. He exists the bar, walking (or rather dragging) you to the cab. As he tries to push your body to the car, he sees in the corner of his eye Jeon Jungkook, standing in front of his black SUV. The waitress from earlier accompanies him as well. It looks like he’s trying to convince her to let him give her a lift to home. The girl shakes her head at first but eventually gives up, stepping into the car. Jungkook grins to himself then, clenching his fists in gesture of pure triumph.

“I fuckin’ hate Park Jimin and his stfupid newspaper,” you mutter incoherently as you bury your head in the crook of Taehyung’s neck in the back of the cab. Old, korean songs are playing in the radio when you’re driving back home. Taehyung smiles to himself, hearing your light snores. But then, he falters.

Ah, yes, he almost forgot. It is going to be a long way to the third floor of your apartment building.

Next day, you wake up in the middle of noon with raging headache and an abrupt need to throw everything up. Frankly speaking, you had worse hangovers during you university days but it doesn’t change the fact that the state you’re currently in still sucks.

“Oh, good God, what have I thought?” you mutter to yourself while standing in the shower, letting the water cool you down.

Truth to be told, a drinking escapade when you have a whole ass paper to write in two days wasn’t the smartest idea you could come up with. You know that for sure, when you’re sitting down in front of your laptop with prescription glasses on your face and a cup of tea in your hand.

There’s a blank document opened on the screen, with only your name written in the corner and the title in the middle. You feel pathetic and useless, staring at it for 30 minutes straight. If you keep sitting like this, you might actually call Park Jimin right now and beg him not to fire you due to your incompetence.

“Get your shit together, Y/N.” you say to yourself, clenching your fists.

At first you fought about making some mind-map, outlining the most important parts of your essay, as you always used to do when you were studying. But there’s a huge difference between what you’re working on right now and what you usually did during academic days. Above all, at that time you were writing about things you had more knowledge about, not about Mary Magdalene and her role in Jesus Christ’s life.

“Ah, fuck it.”

You open an online Bible page and quickly type ‘Mary Magdalene’ in browser. All fragments when she’s mentioned shows up in front of your eyes. You fix your glasses and before you could stop yourself, you whisper, “Let’s get it.”

You don’t know how much time has passed since you started reading, but when you glance a the clock it’s nearly 7pm.

You went through every single page in the Bible when Mary Magdalene appears or when for some reason her name comes up in conversations. You read two thesis in which you found quite interesting facts about the heroine of your work. Also, you watched some conspiracy theories on YouTube about her, in which people claim that she was actually Jesus’ wife. You were bewildered, even in your post-hangover state.

And after all of this researching, you have settled a plan. You’re a journalist for God’s sake, you’ve been writing your entire life and none assignment will break you. So you start typing on the keyboard, filling the blank document pages with words, hoping that Park Jimin will approve your efforts.

On Sunday, you look like a ghost.

You’re a mess, cured from hangover but still in bad shape, especially after spending the whole night writing in front of your laptop. There are bangs under your eyes and you hair looks like you could cosplay a scarecrow. Your eyes are sore from staring to the screen for so long and you feel like you might collapse anytime if you won’t drink coffee in five minutes.

In between writing next paragraphs, you answer a call from Taehyung.

“How’s your assignment going, sweetheart?”

You let out a long, exhausted sigh. “It’s fine, I guess.” you respond to him.

“That’s lovely! I knew you would slay this, babe,” you hear him saying.

“I’m not done yet, Tae. I still have like a half to write,” you mumble and then let out a yawn, closing your eyes for a brief second before you speak again. “I would love to talk to you more but I really need to get this shit done as soon as I can, so I could have some decent sleep before Monday. I don’t want to look like an old witch when I hand in the paper to Park Jimin.”

“I know, I know. You got this, sweetheart. I’m sure you will make Mister Prude’s dick hard because of this.” Taehyung assures you.

You crack a tired smile even though you know he doesn’t see you. “Thank you, Tae.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” he says and hangs up.

You take another gulp of your coffee and start writing again.

It’s a little past midnight when you’re, with your last amounts of force you posses, typing the last words of the paper. As you look at your laptop screen, eyelids half-closed, you dream about nothing but going to sleep.

You did that. You really did. You wrote this stupid paper for Park Jimin and you’re actually proud of it. You carefully save the document three times (to be hundred percent sure) and as soon as you close your laptop, you pass out.

Little did you know what is waiting for you in editorial in a few hours.

You stare at your reflection in small mirror you hold, thanking God that he has enlightened the person who discovered make-up. You won’t say you look stunning but, after five hours of sleep you had in last two days, you would risk it all and say you appear much more than decent looking. You’re wearing your new black jumpsuit that makes your legs look longer and you even used a different shade of lipstick, painting your lips in crimson red.

And all of this for nothing, because when you stormed into the Sunday’s Spirit editorial to give the paper straight to Park Jimin’s hands, his secretary with polite smile said he’s coming to work later today.

You pursued your lips and handed the woman your blood, sweat and tears (you’re actually sure a few tears rolled down from your face on the keyboard while you were writing it), wishing you saw your boss’ face when you place the printed pages on his expensive desk.

“I changed a little bit the topic of my work while I was outlining it,” you tell Taehyung as you both sit together by your desks later that day. “I focused more on a role of Mary Magdalene character in world ruled only by men. I showed how a powerful woman she was, standing at Jesus’s side even though the church for the centuries referred her to whore,” you explain.

“Wow,” Taehyung muses. “You turned Mary Magdalene into feminism icon fighting against patriarchy.”

“It’s not like that!” You hit him in the arm. “You may laugh as much as you want but I actually got into her story.”

Taehyung smirks. “Looks like being scolded by Park Jimin wasn’t that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I got humiliated in the middle of fucking cafeteria. I still hate him. And also, I don’t know what he thinks about my essay.” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t worry. He’s probably having an epiphany right now while-”

A voice from the speakers that certainly doesn’t sound like gospel choir interrupts him.

“Miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.”

“-or he isn’t.” Taehyung ends.

Once again, you’re frozen in place. It’s okay, you tell yourself, maybe he just wants to talk about my essay. But what if he didn’t like it? What if your sudden feminism outburst about Mary Magdalene was too much?

“Holy fuck.” you blurt out quietly.

Taehyung gives you an encouraging smile but he doesn’t look much convinced in positive intentions of summoning you to their boss’ office, he just doesn’t say it aloud. “Well, maybe it won’t be that bad! Maybe he wants to congratulate you,” he tries to comfort you, without success. You look horribly pale and scared to death.

“I repeat: miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.” Jimin’s stone cold voice pierce through the silence again. You shiver. The journalists in the editorial send you impatient glares.

“Whatever happens, remember that I love you.” Taehyung whispers, squizzing your hand, which makes you even more nervous. He gives you thumbs-up and you take a deep breath, trying to calm your trembling body. A whole Sunday’s Spirit team follow your movements with their eyes.

You stands from your desk on wobbly legs and walk to the door with golden sign hanging on its surface.

 Park Jimin

 Editor-in-chief

You take the knob in your shaking palm and twist, stepping into the lion’s den.

The atmosphere seems to shift when you walk into the room. You could hear your heart rapidly beating through the dead silence that lingers in Park Jimin’s office. “You wanted to see me, sir?” you ask after closing the door, subconsciously cursing yourself for sounding so weak already.

“Yes, have a seat,” Jimin says. “Give me a second. I need to finish something.” he adds when you sit down, not even bothering to spare you a look.

Jimin sits behind his desk, eyes glued to the computer screen. His hair is pushed back from his forehead, his jaw clenched. Oh, great, he looks pissed, you think to yourself.

He isn’t wearing his suit jacket like usually, which surprises you. His white shirt’s sleeves are rolled up, revealing a glimpse of veiny hands and his Rolex. This is the first time you see him like this. He looks so… unlike him.

Strange.

You use the time you have to take in your surroundings. Jimin’s office is painted in fair tone of grey. The rumors were actually right, there’s a smaller version of Michelangelo’s Pietà standing proudly on of the drawers. Behind the desk, on the wall, hangs a wooden cross with gold-plated figurine of Jesus Christ, and just underneath it there’s a framed picture of Lady of Fatima, which he once proudly showed to the whole editorial team on one of the lunchbreaks, saying his grandmother brought him this from her pilgrimage.

You focus your attention now on the wall filled with numerous diplomas and certificates, all of them signed with Park Jimin’s name.

You had read some of his works before you started your job in Sunday’s Spirit and you must admit: Park Jimin is a talented, smart journalist you aspire to be one day. It’s actually sad, you think, that he can’t pursue his career, wasting his abilities by working in catholic newspaper owned by his father. And as you know from Yoongi, his situation isn’t going to change soon. Maybe he was right after all. Money really does rule this world.

After a few minutes that seems to last forever, Jimin breaks the silence. “Do you know why are you here?” he asks, finally averting his attention to you. He stares so deeply into your eyes that you feel you might faint from the intensity of his aura.

You clear your throat, and then respond. “I do believe it’s about my paper I handed in to you this morning.”

Jimin raises his eyebrow at that. “Your paper? No, everything’s fine about it. I read it and I must say, you did a great job,” he says and you furrow your eyebrows. So if nothing’s is wrong with your essay then what does he want?

“Then… why did you call me in, sir?” you hesitantly ponder.

Jimin laces his fingers together and leans closer over the desk. “Well,” he begins, “Maybe you forgot or you really didn’t know about it, but I used to run the same column as you do now,” You nod your head, recalling what Taehyung told you recently. Jimin continues, “I was actually the one who created it. That means I am still, for this day, its administrator. Which leads to another conclusion: every single ask that is send to our editorial and your responses to them can be monitored by me.” he explains, gauging your reaction. You still don’t have an idea why is he telling you that, so you just sit still and wait.

Then, Jimin reaches for the paper that lays on the left side of his desk and hands it to you. “Could you please tell me what is this?” he asks, pointing at the paper.

You glance at it briefly. “These are the questions I got last week and my responses to them.” you reply straightaway.

Park Jimin doesn’t seem much satisfied after hearing your words. He then takes another paper and gives it to you as well. “And this particular one, Y/N? Could you please read it and tell me what is this?”

Ignoring his forego of ‘miss’, you take it to your hands and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyf-

You gasp and immadietly put a palm over your mouth. Under Seoyeon’s ask there’s also, clear as day, your much inappropriate response to her. In which you persuade the girl to suck her boyfriend off.

Holy fuck. Jesus Christ. Shitshitshit!

Jimin said he monitors everything that people send to the editorial along with the responds. Of course he had to read it. Why have you been so dumb? How could you believe that simple deleting from your inbox would be enough? Why can’t you do something properly for once?

You gulp, trying not to cry because good God, he’s going to fire you. He will kick you out and write a bunch of negative letters to your future employees, in which he will explain in details how disobiedent, reckless of a worker you are.

“Did you also forget how to speak?” Jimin asks. You almost cry out right away from the coldness of his voice.

You muster up a courage and look at him, and that’s a huge mistake because as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re lost for words.”I-I don’t know what to say, sir,” you stammer out. “I have nothing for my defence. I can only apologize for my irresponsible and inappropriate behavior I exhibited.” you say, bowing your head down.

Jimin pursues his lips. He stands from his chair and walks to you, leaning his body on the desk. He takes the paper from you to his hands and starts reading. “If you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy,“ he quotes your response to the girl and your cheeks flush in red; you wish nothing more than to disappear and never see your boss again. But he’s relentless and continues reading, spilling the crude words, humiliating you even more. “So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this.“ Jimin chuckles to himself darkly and you shut your eyes. “Look at me when you are spoken to,” he demands. You quickly oblige, lifting your chin a little to meet his intense gaze. “Is that really how a good, catholic girl should act?” he asks in a mocking tone.

You shake your head. “No, it isn’t.”

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Do you think he really won’t leave her after this?” he asks out of the blue.

You furrow your eyebrows. What kind of twisted game is he playing now? “I don’t know, sir.” you answer honestly.

Jimin smirks. Devilishly, sultry and completely illegal. He then licks his lips and leans closer to you. You could swear his eyes are darken than before. Something has shifted in his demeanor; he looks daring. “Why don’t you show me then, how this poor girl should suck her boyfriend off, Y/N?” he whispers lowly.

Your eyes widen. Did he just-?

He didn’t. He can’t. Maybe you misheard him, maybe you started imagining things that aren’t real. Oh, sweet Lord, the look of absolute seriousness written on his face tells you very much different.

Park Jimin, your boss, the man who goes regularly on masses and reads Bible, wants you to give him a head. In his office.

May the God help you.

You should probably slap him in the face for his immoral proposition. You should save your dignity, leave and never come back again. But then, you clear your mind from all those twisted thoughts running through it and you realise that you’re walking on a very thin line. Line which is called unemployment and bankruptcy.

You think about your landlord who praised you recently for keeping up with rent every month regularly. You think about your student loans that you still need to pay.

And fuck, you hate Yoongi because he was damn right. Money wouldn’t buy you happiness, but it can provide you that.

That’s why you put away the humiliation, the what ifs. You shut your mind screaming at you and listing the future consequences. Maybe Jimin just tests you, but the way he looks at you denies it. He wants to see you on your knees in front of him. Perhaps he only wants to play before he fires you but you put that thought aside.

You at least need to try.

Jimin searches for any kind of protest in your eyes and when he doesn’t find it, he’s back to his domineering self. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, his voice an octave lower. “Get on your knees.”

He has a calm expression on his face and you wonder for a moment how many times has he been in similar situation before. Having a woman on his mercy and using her the way he likes. And now you know. All those stories you heard about, are actually true. Park Jimin isn’t a prude. He’s dirty.

You fall to the floor with a light whimper. Maybe it’s the last chance for you to leave, but the confidence that emanates from Jimin doesn’t falter your movements. You hate yourself for that but God, you want to see this man being a mess for your touch. Even if that’s fucked up.

And it’s wrong, so, so wrong, when there’s a cross hanging behind you, when he’s your boss who claims to be a good catholic, when you do that because you’re too afraid to lose your job. But in that moment, the morality doesn’t exist.

Jimin stands up to take his belt off, looking at you from the above as he slowly, purposefully pulls it from the belt loops. He doesn’t encourage you or say anything, he just waits. You gulp when he yanks his black slacks down, along with his underwear.

For a few, solid seconds, you just stare.

You aren’t a connoisseur of dicks. Dick is a dick, but Park Jimin’s length is just as perfect as the rest of him, semi-hard against his lower stomach. Your hands move to his sculpted thighs, running up and down, tracing the prominent lines of his toned abdomen. The muscles tense underneath your touch.

You don’t remember when was the last time you’ve gone down on someone. Maybe it was Taehyung few months ago when you were both too drunk to care? You can’t quite recall. Every move of yours is uncertain, but Jimin doesn’t mind. Maybe your uncertainty turns him on even more.

He watches as you take him in your palm hesitantly, hot and already stiff, stroking him several times until he hardens in your hand. The sight is purely erotic, filthy, and you lick your lips before placing a light kiss on his tip. Jimin hisses. That’s a warning. No teasing.

You pump him, trailing a thumb over his slit, spreading precum all over his cock. Jimin doesn’t say anything but from the shuddering breath he lets out you assume he likes it. You take a deep breath, wrapping your lips around his dick and swirling your tongue around the head.

Jimin groans, a guttural sound resonating through his whole body and you take it as a sign to continue. You ease more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down around his length obediently. Some twisted and fucked-up part of you wants him to praise you, call you good girl with your lips around his dick and throbbing core. He does none of that. His hands tangle in your hair as he withdraws, and you know exactly what’s coming next.

It’s an unspoken question on his lips and your jaw falls slacks on command.

A forceful push of his hips and he’s burried deep inside your mouth till he hits the back of your throat. Tears brim in your eyes and you gag, breathing heavily through your nose. It hurts a little, a dull ache but the content sigh and fucked-out expression on Jimin’s face is worth it. So you let him fuck your mouth the way he wants, let him pull your hair harder, wreck you a little more. It’s so easy to submit to him, to let him overwhelm you in every sense possible.

Your eyes fall shut and Jimin stops his movements, pulling from your mouth. Drool dribbles down your chin and you wipe it with the back of your hand. Jimin lets out a shaky breath, staring down at you so intensely it makes your insides tighten, even if you don’t see him yet.

“Look at me,” he rasps and you do, how could you not. The sight of your boss’ flushed cheeks and sweat forming on his forehead will be imprinted in your mind forever.

You curse yourself for wanting him to fuck you senseless right against his deck, with a hand around your throat muffling your screams, fuck you so hard you won’t remember your name anymore, no matter how wrong it is.

“Good girl. You’re so pretty like this, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jimin nothing but purrs, filling you to the brim again, until there are tears forming in your eyes and running down your cheeks, until he hits the base of your throat again and again and you fight back choked gags every time. “Just like that, fuck-” he moans, lowly and beautifully, head thrown back and mouth parted.

He’s close, you could feel that, so you take him deep once again and when your throat tightens around him one last time, he lets out a gutural groan and comes. You swallow every drop of his bitter release and when he pulls out from your mouth, you nearly fall forward.

Jimin catches you, placing his hands on your shoulders, balancing your exhausted body. You look at him through your half-lidded eyes. He looks so young now, so innocent, his cold demeanor’s gone and replaced by pure bliss written on his face. For Park Jimin, cheeks rosy, disheveled hair and loosen tie, you would do it all over again.

He then does something unexpected. He reaches for your face, brushing your tangled hair away and placing the strands behind your ears. This is a loving gesture, something exclusive he definitely shouldn’t be doing. You’re frozen, you can’t move a muscle while he wipes your cheeks from the reminiscences of your tears. He trails his thumb over your swollen lips absentmindedly, faltering there. For a moment he looks like he might say something, but he quickly shuts his mouth, regaining his previous posture.

You take this as a sign to leave. You get up from the floor, your knees sore from the uncomfortable position you’ve been in. You walk to the mirror that hangs on the wall of Jimin’s office. You sigh, seeing your current state. There’s no way someone would believe you that you haven’t just sucked a dick.

Your cheeks are flushed in pink, there are smudges of mascara under your eyes and your lipstick is smeared in the corners of your mouth. Not to mention your hair is still a mess.

You are painted in all shades of wrong.

In the reflection of the mirror you see Jimin buckling up his belt and straightening his tie. He runs a hand through his blond locks and looks up, catching you staring at him. You quickly look away.

“Don’t worry. No one will notice anything. Everyone should be off for their lunchbreaks by now.” he says. He sounds so pathetically normal, yet there’s still a slight rasp in his voice.

You glance at the watch on your hand and check the time. It’s a little past 12. You brush your hair with your fingers quickly and proceed to leave, but you stop, remembering you have to ask about one last thing. You turn around to face him.

“Are you going to write a bad opinion about me to my future employees?” you ask, flinching at the hoarseness of your voice.

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Bad opinion? No, absolutely not,” he answers, shaking his head. “I was never going to fire you in first place.”

You fight back the shocked expression that threatens to appear on your face. You quickly rush to leave this damn office and never look in his eyes ever again. What were you even thinking?

“And Y/N,” Jimin’s voice makes you stop with your hand hovering over the door knob. Single tear rolls down your cheek and you gulp. “I’m sorry.” it’s all he says.

You don’t ask him what he meant by that. You don’t deliberate if he was sincere or not. You leave the office as soon as you can, running to the nearest bathroom, closing the door behind you and leaning on it.

He wasn’t going to fire you. He just wanted to use you, demand to get down on your knees and please him the way he wants. It was all a game for him, and you became his plaything.

“I’m so stupid,” you mutter to yourself, burying your head in your hands. “God, I’m so stupid.”

You feel sick, used, but at the same time you can’t get away with creeping feeling that you enjoyed it, wishing he wanted you just as much as you wanted him in that moment.

You sigh, closing your eyes. You’re probably foolish for thinking it won’t have any consequences. You’re just about to face them.

The coldness of early Spring hits you when you exit Sunday’s Spirit editorial. You hug your body tighter with your coat, standing in front of the building awkwardly. You take a few deep breaths, trying to clear your mind, but nothing really works. There’s a vacant space inside your body, like your soul has drifted away and left nothing but emptiness.

You feel hollow.

You don’t know how long have you been standing there, inhaling fresh air and waiting for your blood to start circulating properly in your veins again. When you’re about to head to the underground station, on the corner of your eye you see Jimin’s black Mercedes. You probably shouldn’t stare but you helplessly do.

Probably if you didn���t, it would hurt less.

He approaches the car, looking perfectly fine as always, which you couldn’t say about yourself. And he isn’t alone.

You recognize dark curls of Chins-sun’s hair, contrasting her beige coat beautifully. The corners of Jimin’s lips lift when he sees her. You don’t know if it’s a honest smile or a forced one. You wonder for a while how does he look like when he’s truly happy. Maybe he’s happy now, when Chin-sun is by his side.

What you are really sure about Park Jimin, is that he’s a man of many maybes.

Something which definitely doesn’t look forced are his palms, cupping the cheeks of Chin-sun’s flushed face. He starts tracing circles on her skin in intimate gesture and murmurs something. Maybe he asks her how was her day. Your lips still tingle where he trailed his thumb over it bitten, swollen surface. Maybe he still remembers how they felt around his cock when he was relentlessly bringing tears to your eyes and stabs to your heart.

The way he leans and kisses Chin-sun’s cherry colored lips is purposeful, perfectly measured. Maybe he sighs into her mouth with content, a beautiful sound you have witnessed with your own ears, as you were working him to his climax. Jimin’s hands grip Chin-sun’s dark locks but it isn’t the similar manner he did to you earlier, as he laced his fingers through the strands, when you wished him to do nothing more than pull harder and harder, until the pain in you scalp was replaced by dull ache, until a whimper fell from your lips and eyes squeezed shut. He kisses Chin-sun lovingly and there’s no roughness in that. It’s gentle caresses and soft murmurs.

After a moment he breaks off, soothing his palms over Chin-sun’s shoulders. She sends him a smile and opens the passenger’s door, getting into the car. And then, when you swallow a lump in your throat, when you decide to turn around and go, run as fast as you possibly can, when you dream about nothing more but never seeing him again, you catch eyes with him.

Jimin looks pathetically apologetic. There’s something in his dark brown orbs you can’t read. Maybe it’s guilt, maybe regret. Park Jimin is a man of many maybes, yet he stares at you with expression you could only mistaken for sadness.

You wonder if he sees the way your eyes stare at him blankly. You wonder if he knows how he nearly wrecked your body and made you feel things you shouldn’t. If he hurts the same way as you do now. However, Jimin quickly diverts his head away from you, closing the door to his car behind him as well. You laugh quietly at the ridiculousness of this situation. A bitter laugh that escapes your mouth and deepen the hollowness inside you.

A hand touches your arm and you don’t even flinch, knowing already who it is.

“So you know the news,” Taehyung says, looking at Jimin’s car leaving the parking lot. How long has he been standing behind you?

“What news?” you ask, turning your head to look at him.

“Chin-sun is really going to be miss Park officially,” he replies. “Jimin proposed to her this weekend. The wedding is in may. But that’s not important right now. How’s your conversation with him, sweetheart?”

You feel sick. You excuse yourself, mentioning something about needing to catch earlier train and texting him later. Taehyung calls after you but you don’t listen. You start running.

You run until you couldn’t breathe, until there’s a soreness in your throat from the coldness of air. You run until you reach your apartment, stumbling into it on wobbly legs. Your back touches the wall and you slide off, sitting on the floor.

You don’t cry. The tears don’t strain your eyes. It’s only this damned, dull hollowness.

There’s written in the Bible that a guilty person is the one who broke God’s law, who committed a sin. The said person will be judged by their actions after their death. Because every human being has a conscience, the thing that sets the line between good and bad, so when we did something wrong, we should feel remorse.

When you sit on the floor and stare blankly in front of yourself, you know you have sinned.You both did. You wonder if he, trailing patterns of tender touches on his fiancee’s skin, feels the same as you. You wonder if guilt eats him up as much as devours you. Maybe there’s hollow ache in his chest, just like in yours. Maybe he doesn’t feel anything.

And may the God help you both find your redemption.

[hecohansen31]

For the kissing prompts could you do 12 with Ivar?! 🥺

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I just wanted to apologize for taking so much in doing this!

I really hope that you won’t mind that incorporated a small challenge between me and @maggiescarborough (in case it does, let me know and I’ll rewrite it!).

WARNINGS: Mention of Sex/Unsafe Sex (resulting in pregnancy SO FUCKING WRAP IT UP)/Mention of Overprotective Father/Slight Slut-Shaming (lost of virgin=ruin for a woman, WHICH I DON’T FUCKING BELIEVE IN by the way).

“Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss”

“Quit smiling at me, I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that!” shouted a lightly flushed-cheeks Ivar, as you bit your lips to keep yourself from smirking again, as he clumsily rehearsed the discourse he’d do to ask your father for your hand in marriage.

You had met the beautiful prince as you accompanied your father in England to avenge Ragnar’s death.

And you had caught the prince’s eyes immediately, since you weren’t exactly what he had expected as Harald Finehair’s daughter.

You were meek, enough to avoid his gaze every time you two were in the same room, and too delicate for the battlefield, but on one particular day, the English had tried to attack the settlements, meanwhile the warriors were fighting on the battlefield.

Ivar had thought he’d come back to a mess, but the settlements didn’t look much changed.

If you didn’t count the bodies on the ground before the settlements.

In a few hours, you had organized an army to defeat and push away the English soldiers, welcoming him, as if nothing had happened.

This had certainly heightened his attraction towards you, and he had tried to pass much more time with you, during his campaign in England, discovering that you certainly had a strategical training, but a sweet and soft mind, always having wanted to be a wife and a mother more than a warrior.

And he had fallen in love with you, deeply and fast.

But he hadn’t thought you’d be able to feel the same for him, till a night when you had invited him to your own private tent, gently offering him ale, with your own hands, as you confessed that you found him quite handsome and quite a man.

There and then he had thought at first it had been Harald’s plan.

A way to catch his precious Kattegat.

He had stormed out of the tent, and left you there, before rushing back in and kissing you, because even if it was only Harald’s plan, he’d try to get at least some pleasure from it.

And he had thought that if it wasn’t something that you wanted, you’d have shown your disgust for him, for his legs and his non-working prick.

But you had indulged him, claiming him softly, as he explored your body, with a naturalness to his gestures that he had known then that you were his woman, his woman solely.

The following day he had woken up onto your naked belly, your hands softly playing with his hair, as you leaned down to steal a kiss from his mouth, and he had known that you hadn’t faked anything, that you had truly wanted him.

And that somehow you had claimed him.

But then you had left, following your father.

And he had been frozen on the ground as he saw you shooting him one last look, thinking it was a betrayal, but at the same time unable to do much more, because he didn’t want to give Harald the satisfaction of knowing that he was besotted with his daughter.

And then he and Harald had met again, alongside with you.

Pregnant.

At first, he had been rough with you.

He couldn’t believe that you had let another man push his seed inside you, but you had just denied any accuse of cheating, assuring that the child in your stomach was his.

And he had remembered having come deep inside of you, his prick having found life between your legs.

And the timing was perfect, five the months passed from your last coupling and the last time you had seen him.

It also explained why you hadn’t been on the battlefield when Ivar had fought against his brothers, your father beside him and on his side.

‘Do you swear it on the gods?’ he had asked you after he had met you privately, as he took in your earthly beauty only enhanced by the glow of your pregnancy, making you a goddess in his own sight.

‘I’ll swear it on everything you want, Ivar’ you had pleaded him ‘… I don’t care to be your wife, I just…”

‘I want to marry you’ he had then replied, unable to deny his desires for much longer ‘… but your father will be hard to convince’.

And you had giggled, telling him that he had been questioning you each day about the ‘dickhead’ that had put a baby inside of you, ruining your innocence, the innocence of his only daughter.

‘… he says that I am ruined’ although you had giggled in telling this, as you took a seat next to Ivar, his head immediately settling itself against his child ‘… that no lord will want me, hence he won’t be able to enlarge his alliances’.

‘… just you wait till he’ll hear that you’ll be my queen’ he had commented, feeling your surprise ‘… he’ll have a heart attack for sure’.

Hence, he was rehearsing his own speech to the feared king of Vestfold, as you tried to keep a straight face to his own ridiculous words.

You had managed to hide away from everybody, since, after the discovery of your pregnancy, a guard followed everywhere and soon your own father would be searching for you, since he didn’t trust you anymore, not matter the fact that you were a free woman.

“I am sorry, my love” you called out to him, extending to him a hand, asking him to help you up, since your belly was growing considerably big.

Three more months had taken for Ivar to reason himself to finally marry you.

And the child seemed ready to meet is father everyday more.

The main reason why Ivar wanted to rush this entire thing with your father.

He wanted to be wed with you, as you gave him his child.

“… you just look delightfully flushed” you teased him, as you moved to join his side, to comfort him since he seemed quite intolerably nervous and distressed.

“Such wicked words, woman” he commented, but a light smirk was also on his face, unable to deny a softness he didn’t know he owned, but he had found solely for you and your growing belly.

“… I am not yet your woman” you replied with a cheeky smirk, as he moved to put an hand on your belly, to remind you of it, the reason why he would go through the humiliation of contracting with Harald to have you as his wife.

And your child recognized as his.

“You became my woman the moment my seed slipped inside you, you know it, wicked seductress” he made you turn around, pushing your back flushed against his already aroused front.

It was so easy for you to do that, he’d need just your smell and the sight of your curvaceous figure, and he’d be falling all over his knees to have a taste of the mound between your legs.

“… my father won’t approve it, if you speak to him like this” you muttered, because you knew that your father had said that he’d cut off the dick of whoever had dishonored you.

“Your father is lucky beyond reason that you have such a pretty face and a lovely cu…” you slapped his chest, turning to him, with a wicked grin.

The one he loved so much.

“… you won’t get me to agree to help you with these insulting words” you replied, trying to push yourself away from him, but he kept you tight to his chest, kissing your forehead sweetly.

“I want to wake up with you, each day, is this better?” he commented, as he laid a boiling tray of kisses up your neck.

“You won’t wake up with me much, with my morning sickness” you joked, but your eyes were purely in love, exactly like Ivar’s.

“I love you, little Valkyrie” he commented softly, as he gently brushed your noses together, before kissing you softly and deeply, making your knees buckle lightly under you and he grabbed your waist to steady you, against him.

You disentangled softly, as he tried to get you back on the bed, to make you relax further.

But your quiet was short lived, as the door to the room you had been hiding in opened, revealing you and Ivar to a shocked Harald.

Your father didn’t take it kindly, immediately linking your pregnancy with the way the prince’s hands clutched your bump.

“Fucking Ragnarsson” he commented simply, his eyes signaling a violence that made also Ivar pale.

He wouldn’t have certainly killed him, mostly to save your honor and avoid war between their kingdom.

But he certainly wouldn’t have hesitated cutting off Ivar’s offending appendage.

“Come and talk with me, outside” Harald ordered the younger boy, who simply turned to a laughing you, barely hiding it with your hands, gaining a skeptic look form your lover.

“That doesn’t help” he commented, but did turn around to follow your father, simply hearing you wish him:

“Good luck, my love”.

At least it’d be a good story to tell his future children.

[sailing-elitsha]

WE DID IT!!!!!!!!

Our first ocean crossing is a fact!!

The last miles were draining. Running with constantly changing winds, crossing waves and without spinnaker is not funny. I was not seasick this time, but caught an ear infection, which I thought will be okay after a while, because I got antibiotic from Doctor Josephine in St Helena for my leg infection. Without consulting a doc in St Helena again, we left. The crossing waves and light wind made me nauseous because my ear was blocked. The night watches drained but the spirit of the crew, Dick and I, maintained unbroken positive and happy. We caught a tuna and a barracuda. The swordfish, when we finally had him close to Elitsha, went back to the sea. The line broke and he is now the coolest fish in the South Atlantic with a hip piercing on his sword nose. The barracuda, I caught on my watch. Dick was sleeping and I got him close, which was not easy, but then I saw his teeth, I knew, this I won’t do on my own. Together we got him in.  Even though I was not feeling well, I baked several breads, cooked tuna curry, and did my watches. Dick took the more difficult watches and let me sleep a little bit longer each night. I rest much more then he did. So, you can imagine, we both looked forward to having a good sleep after arriving in Fernando. Bob the aircraft engineer was close to us, but they wanted to continue their way to the Caribbean straight forward. Going ashore in Fernando de Noronha was not allowed, so all Yachties skip the island. We were hoping on getting water and to be allowed to just sleep 3 nights at the anchorage and continue sailing afterwards.

Immensely proud and happy on Friday the 30th of April at 5 am after having sailed 1812 nautical miles we arrived at Fernando de Noronha, a small Island and Nature Reserve at the Brazilian Coast. Dick and I were both a bit emotional: WE DID IT!!!!!! Its always special to arrive after a long sail. First you hear and see birds, then lights, then the shape of land, then you smell something different……… But this time is was special special. We arrived at the other side of a very very big and deep (4000+ m deep) ocean.

40 meters of anchor chain and we lay in front of a beautiful beach in a beautiful bay. This Island is a Nature Reserve and so so beautiful. We were the only yachties. Nobody is allowed to enter the island from sea. we could smell the cocktails, but were nut allowed to grab them.....made our owns though....Due to humanitarian reasons they have to allow us to buy fresh supplies and water, which we needed to continue the rest of our voyage. After we arrived, our yellow Checkers cloth and the Brazilian flag went up the mast. Nothing happened. Dick was swimming with zebrafish and sharks in the meantime. After half a day waiting and asking harbour control again and again on the radio we finally got an answer. At 3 o clock we got picked up and the harbour master welcomed us together with the police. The police would escort us to the shops and the next day we have to leave. Zora pictured out a scenario of Dick and I in handcuffs in de shops grabbing 5 l canisters of water and apples under supervision of the police officers, when we told her. (There is a photo of Alex, the police officer, faking to arrest Dick. That photo was especially taken for Zora.)

But it went differently. We were very fortunate to meet Alex, a Brazilian federal policeman from Brasilia, the only English-speaking person on this island. They all try google translate, but internet is a crime here. So Alex was the solution. He told us that the extra days of sleep could only been allowed if I would get a doctor’s attest and then he drove with us to the hospital, translated, then to the Pharmacia, then to the harbour again to explain that I was even sicker than I thought, and the doctor wants to see me every day till Monday. He and his colleagues wrote reports, spoke to their boss, to make it happen for us to stay longer. This way we not only were allowed to stay 3 nights, but we were also allowed to explore the island. The police brought our 60 l water and fresh supplies to the boat and gave us very valuable tips for sightseeing, bus routes, the best bars and best meals of the islands: platter federale ( a seafood food platter the chef  always creates for the federal police men and Caipirinha pinto. They gave us a branche with well 12 coconuts on it. Uii, lekker.  We ate a special bean soup with quail eggs…….. Alex was and still is our hero and became a friend. We had a very special time at Fernando de Noronha. Again, everybody knew us, helped and was friendly. 

Traveling during Corona is not easy, but at the same time very special. People are happy with every single tourist; it is not full and overcrowded. Covid in Brazil is hectic. In Fernando they have not one case. Its so normal to sanitize and wear masks. Fortunately, we will not get a Brazilian stamp in our passport, which is good. This stamp could close some borders for us. So, we visited a little piece of Brazil, met a lot of Brazilians from Brasilia, Sao Paulo, Recife and other Brazilian Cities, and got information and a little bit of insights in the culture.

 We ate delicious Brazilian food, but officially we have never been in Brazil. How is that?Traveling in the Caribbean with a South African flag is a problem we were told, because of the racist history. That was one of the reasons why we choose a German registration. But sailing with a German flag in Brazil was also a thingy: 7:1, the water taxi captain said when he saw the black/red/gold. I apologized and promised, that we (the Germans) would never beat them (soccer WC 2014) again in a semi-final in their own country with 7:1. That was good, then.

Even though it was great and relaxing. It was quite expensive to stay on an Eco Island. For 3 days we paid 200 dollars. When we wanted to go to a beach at the other end of the island today, they wanted us to pay another 100 dollars (a 9 day valid ticket for three beaches). We rather went back to the for-free-harbour-beach with the bus again and saw turtles, lemon sharks and a lot of other beautiful fish. Wrong!!! Dick saw them. I am not allowed to snorkel. Grrrrrr. My ears!!!! So, we didn’t need a 100-dollar beach. From here we could even see Elitsha waving towards us. 

 From Elitsha we see dolphins around us spinning in the morning, zebra fish all around and the trumpet fish from St. Helena followed us to Fernando. 

Our last water taxi was a luxe motor yacht with fancy leather seating. Dick and I felt like Crockett and Tubbs in Miami Vice. So funny. 

Last evening at Fernando. Tomorrow we lift our anchor and off we go again. The doldrums are waiting for us and then the north east trades to lift us to Suriname. Can’t wait to explore the rainbow forest that side. 

A big thank you to our shore captains, Anneke, Zora and Holger, who make harbour arrangements for us, inform us about the weather and much more; to Wiek, our fishing coach, for telling us afterwards what we caught and have eaten, hahaha and to all our friends and supporters who react and encourage us all the way of our journey. Its fantastic to be in touch with you. 

Believe us, we enjoy every single second and moment of our journey with each other and are so so glad and happy that we are doing this with the two of us. Don’t forget to donate for the nautical miles we are sailing. 

Lots of loveDick, Sylke and Elitsha     

Questions for the Elitsha competition:

1.       What is the capital of Brazil?

2.       Where is Fernando de Noronha?

3.       What is a sea mountain?

4.       What kind of shark, did my husband dive with?

5.       How does a trumpet fish look like? (and don’t tell me: like a trumpet, hahaha. I want to see a photo.) 

All participants will receive a price!!!!!!! 

For the ones who want to take part in our sponsor sail: We have sailed 1812 nautical miles. You can donate a cent, a Rand, a Euro or whatever per nautical mile. We are sailing for these amazing schools: every nautical mile and each Rand counts. To UBUNTU for Africa, German NGO.                                                                                                                                                                          The money will go to the UBUNTU for Africa projects: after care at Hout Bay Primary School and the music project at Silikamva High School. This organisation I started 12 years ago (www.ubuntuforafrica.com) Of course, you will receive a tax certificate. 

Ubuntu for Africa-Kinder-, Jugend und Familienhilfe in Südafrika                          Volksbank Boenen e G                                                                                            IBAN: DE91 4106 2215 0054 5799 01                                                                  

For South Africans and others, who want to donate directly to South Africa (also with tax certificate): please donate to Kronendal Primary School (www.kronendalprimary.com). I worked for 10 years at Kronendal Primary as a school counsellor. This school struggles financially due to the consequences of the Covid Pandemic and deserves our support.                                                    KRONENDAL PRIMARY SCHOOL trading as CUIM (“the account holder”) holds the following account with                                                                                        First National Bank, a division of FirstRand Bank Limited (“FNB”): Account Type BUSINESS ACCOUNT Account Number 53452884035                                           Branch Code 204009                                                                                         Branch Name HOUT BAY 345                                                                               Swift Code FIRNZAJJ                                                                                                                                                             WE DID IT

[reading-hub]

Bakugou/shy reader - Studying

Contains: smut, bl*w jobs, face f*cking

- - - - - - -

A study partner? Aizawa explained to them that last week's test was bombed significantly by almost a large portion of the class. Now guilt silence consumed class 1-A. [f/n] was nervous-no she was panicking! She wondered if she failed with the rest as well... Her worries were getting the best of her as they pilled on. Would she have to get one? If so, would she have to pick her own partner? And if not, she just hopes she's not paired up with Bakugou. It's not that she hated him. She's just never had the chance to have a full-on conversation with the explosion boy. The only closest thing she ever had a conversation was him walking past her in the hallway. Not to mention her huge crush on him----WHAT?! who said that!

As for Bakugou take on this AND the smartest guy the class, he was pissed that he had to face the consequences along with everyone else, it wasn't his fault that so many people failed this ONE test. Not that it mattered. Aizawa furthered explained that it didn't matter if you were proficient in last week's test. They would be assigned partners as well. It would only be fair if everyone is assigned one, proficient or not. Ok, now Bakugous' blood was definitely at boiling point.

Aizawa paired these study partners carefully. He didn't want anyone to get distracted by a friend they would know too well-so no Kirishima. Nor could it be anyone that they would despise too much into not studying with at all-stupid Deku...

[F/n] was relieved, but she was still worried about whom she assigned to. As for Bakugou, he just wanted a partner that won't irritate him...

Skip to Saturday, and here you were standing in front of Bakugou's dorm room. You couldn't believe it! You secretly thought that this was all turning into a dream of yours. It was all falling too well into place...

Before you could knock, the door opened immediately, making you stand frozen and eyes wide like a deer in front of headlights. Bakugou stood there, sweatpants and a black tank top that was showing all of his jacked arms that he worked hard to become a hero.

The sight was too much to handle! You could faint right now!

"Hey, idiot." You blinked in response, bringing you back to reality. "Let's just get this study over with so I can do something worth my time." He left the door open for you to come in. You fumbled as you walked in, closing the door behind you, not wanting to make him anymore annoyed than he already was.

You turned around to see Bakugou sitting on the floor, his textbook and needed materials on the floor with him, you plopped yourself on the floor to join him after. You took this time to look around his dorm room. Which was surprisingly clean and organized. Was it always like this or did he tidy up knowing you were coming over?

An hour passed, this alone time together has made you fallen more in love with Bakugou than ever before. Something about him was to be admired for, in your eyes at least. It was possible you loved him simply because he was everything you weren't.

The things he did during the last two years of him at UA was a lifetime achievement for you. You never one to get out of your comfort zone so easily, the thought of you ever hurting someone on any level of emotional or physical would haunt you till your death, and when comparing quirks: he's got it all in the bag.

Not to mention how built he was...oh no. Your dirty mind was getting the better of you now.

"Hey, I'm done with my side of the study." He spoke. And that voice of his too! How rough and dominant it sounded to you. The things he'd demand from you during a passionate night, and you happily oblige him with no question after. The thought made you bite your lip in excitement...

You notice you were taking a while to answer back. "U-uh yeah, so am I..." Ugh, he probably thinks your stupid for answering him like that.

Little did you know, as you were distracted from your thoughts, you didn't see that Bakugou was eyeing you up and down, heck, he's been eyeing you the whole study session! Damn him for being too smart to study at all!

"How come you're so nervous all the damn time?" He bluntly said to you. You looked up at him, shocked. "I, uh..." Was he asking about you? Well, better not keep him waiting.

"It's just how I am." You said clear. "B-besides, not everybody can say that their study partner is Katsuki Bakugou." You looked down in embarrassment. All Bakugou could at that moment was smirk ever so deviously. An idea popped in his head at that moment, an idea that he sure as hell knew that you wouldn't mind making happen for him.

He just needed to egg you on a little further.

Without noticing, Bakugou moved inches closer to where you were sitting. "So you think I'll become a hero?" He asked, a little too sinister. You looked at him with wide eyes, you were too innocent for your own good. "Of course, Bakugou, I think you would be a great hero." You exclaimed.

He had you right where he wanted you. "Anything more than that?"

"Wha-what do you mean..?" Confused, just what exactly was he asking from you? "Ever saw me more than just a hero," He continued "perhaps maybe, the thought of me had your all panties soaked." How did he..?

Before you could fully understand, you felt a hand caress your own. It felt like your hand was getting a deep tissue massage, and Bakugou was providing it. Did he--?

"I've seen the way you avoided me." His tone was deep but it wasn't anger, maybe lust. "I thought it was because you were another extra who was weak-willed,"

"But then I notice how you easily it was to make your cheeks turn red, especially around me." You just didn't want this to end, it was plucked straight out of a fairy tale in your eyes. "So it wasn't out of fear, huh?" You shook your head. "It was something else?" He asked after that. You nodded vigorously.

You then felt something wet and warm around your neck. You gasped in shocked, only to realize you were too deep in Bakugou's words, that he's been getting closer and closer to you, to the point where he's licking and sucking your neck as we speak.

Meanwhile, you couldn't believe this was happening! It had to be a dream? Right??

His mouth hovered over your neck, leaving behind a little hickey he planted on you. "You want this, don't you?" He prodded. "Y-yes! Yes, I do, Bakugou!" You said, already in need of him.

He kissed you, roughly. His hands gripping the back of your hair from all the intensity that's happening right now in this room! Your hands also wandering around his shoulders and finally his chest. Lips still colliding with one another, Bakugou must have known you weren't exactly the most experienced, so tongue was out of the question, for now.

You both stopped, trying to breathe in any oxygen that escaped from both of you during that kiss. His body was on top of you, you underneath him like prey, and he was ready to eat you up...

Without any reaction, your body suddenly decided to do all the talking right now. Next thing you know, you're lifting your hips up and down, grinding on him. You both looked down, noticing that his sweatpants were giving him away, at how he was feeling you grind him like that. The sweatpants outlined what was down there, and your imagination did the rest...

Bakugou was heavily breathing from all this and had another idea.

"On your knees." He demanded. You being the submissive minx deep down, you happily nodded and did exactly just that.

Now here you were. On your knees, Bakugou sitting on his bedside, trying to rub himself out right in front of you. To have a front seat to all of this, suddenly have a pool of your own fluids below your waist.

Without warning, his dick was touching your lips, and you were smiling in lust. "Your quite dirty arent you, little slut." His devilish smirk came back again. His tone desperate and in want. You hummed in delight as you kitty licked the head of his cock.

"Heh, then why don't you put your whole mouth into it, huh?" He held both his hands on each side of your head for support, slowly pushing in your mouth to meet his whole base for one second, only for him to quickly pull your head back so you wouldn't choke on it.

You gasped once more, licking your lips in response to taste the precum still on your lips. Bakugou watched you in desire, grinning like the Chesire Cat.

"I'm gonna mess you up, so bad, you'll never want anyone else's dick but mine, got it?" You nodded once more, he pushed your head back down. You were all about his needs right now, to hear his groans of pleasure, knowing that your the one making him do that.

He was cursing up a storm as your head bobbed up and down, showing no sign of stopping, every ounce of warmth and wetness in your mouth was getting every spot on his cock to be jolted with pleasure. His hand never leaving your head, gripping it once a while to show you whose cock you're sucking on.

Those tiny jolts of pleasure that you were giving were now rapidly increasing every second. He was so close to cumming. You noticed as well, as he was gripping on you tighter and tighter, bruising your shoulder in the process, you saw the pornos.

It was either the guy quickly lifted the girl's head off his cock to cum on her face or maybe Bakugou was gonna leave you still in your mouth, and cum inside your mouth.

Without warning, both his hands held your face close, making sure you didn't move. You then felt some sticky fluid run through inside your throat, you were getting nervous again as more and more kept coming through, you weren't sure if you were gonna drink all up.

You breathed through your nose in the hopes of helping, it did, sort of. However, before you thought it was done, some still landed on your cheek. Bakugou helped out by cleaning off the evidence with his thumb, putting said thumb in your mouth to have you lick it off, which you oblige.

He then hoisted you up from the floor and had you lay on his bed. Before you could protest, he stopped you by cupping your clothed pussy, which was dripping wet at this point. You felt your cheeks getting hot, Bakugou saw this, "You're still embarrassed after what just happened?" He smirked.

He lifted your skirt, fingering you through your panties. You had a feeling he wasn't done with you yet...

[kpopseregi]

flowergirl. Chapter 2

(credit gif to owners)

link to chap 1 -- ( flowergirl. Chap.1 )

* flowergirl. Chap. 2

Genre : Soulmate AU

Pairing : Yunho X Reader / Woosan / Seongjoong

Warning : none except light curse words. 

Recommended playlist : Talk To Me- Red Velvet

Words : 1.7k+  

                The morning came. Yunho has never been so energized like that in his whole life. Even if it just for a moment, it’s already been a colorful life for Yunho’s. Just imagine if they were together. Ah, what a heaven. *RINGSS RINGSS* (sorry im bad at imitating those alarm clocks TT) Shit, he was running late, Hongjoong gonna spank his sorry ass. (He likes it tho :p) He wear his usual boyfriend’s look, to impress his soulmate, Nana. Speaking of her, he curious about that Wooyoung guy. Was he her’s boyfriend? Please no. He waited for her long enough. Damn it! Another daydreaming. He gasped after looking at his watch and races to the door.

-

                He arrived at Hongjoong’s place in 10 minutes with hope that he is not going to get killed by that tiny boss. Just his luck, Hongjoong was also running late. “Ayy lover boy, come here, I need you to arrange what Hongjoong has extracted 2 months ago.” Mingi smirked. Yunho was flustered. “What lover? You’re wish.” Too late, San has already informed everybody. As expected, Reporter Choi San doing his duty. Well,this is a big news as Yunho never has a girlfriend despite all his friend has one before encountered their respectful soulmate. ‘Saying about being loyal.’ Mingi shrugged. Heck! Even clumsy Mingi had ten and more before he met Aisha. Ehem.... for some experience. Damn, that tall girl already dominated Mingi’s little princess heart with her boyish charm. Blessed with great figure and athletic abilities, Mingi was so damn grateful. Suddenly...

                *BANG*  As they were about to do some work, Hongjoong slammed the door. Poor those big babies almost has mini heart attack. ‘Well,his expressions doesn’t seem that great’ Mingi and Yunho exchanged looks and thinking the same thing. (plot twist:real soulmate -.-). “Do I looks like someone who would cheat to you?!” That tiny man ask both of them. They just shakes their head. “Right!? How the hell he get that idea that I would cheat with my customers? How the hell did he even become my soulmate? Aren’t soulmate SUPPOSED to trust and understand each other? Why the hell this world has this soulmate thingy? I should just live in somebody’s pocket,” Hongjoong rolled his eyes. Then he slammed his workroom door. Poor doors. 

               “I didn’t even know Hongjoong have soulmate?” Yunho asked Mingi. “Well, how the hell you would know? They broke up just before you came on your first day. That’s why Hongjoong was a bit mean when he interviewed you. But don’t worry, deep down, he is a kind man. Damn, I cringed at that.” Mingi and Yunho laughed. “But... aren’t you supposed to stay with your soulmate through thick and thin?” Mingi just sighed. “It’s the couple decision to break up or to stay. But in returns, your heart is the one suffering. So it’s better to treat your soulmate well.” Yunho smiled. “Nice words, clumsy Mingi.” Mingi grinned.

                                  The bell rings to indicate new customer has come in. Yunho was about to greet the customer but the customer has backhugged him. He blinked. “Umm... who are you?” Yunho’s heart started to race, this time it’s not that ‘crush-looking-at-you’ kind but ‘shit-is-that-a-burglar?’ kind. “It’s me bro!” San yelled excitedly. Yunho sighed. “Bro you scared me!” Yunho whined. San actually was on his morning break to grab some coffee after his morning weather forecast news but decided to hang out at Hongjoong”s shop instead. “How’s my big babie Mingi doing?” Mingi popped his head from the store room. “Doing well Sannie! Aisha surprised me with a private event last night for our 2nd anniversary.” Mingi excitedly share his story with a dreamy face. San nods. “And you Yunho?” Yunho sighs. “Hopefully I can meet her today tho.” He pouts. “Where is that exactly?” Yunho just shrugged his shoulders. “I met her at the alleyway that goes straight to P.S flower shop.” San squints his eyes. “Is that what I think I heard? She has connection with Park Seonghwa then?” San mumbled. “What?” Yunho asks in curiosity. “Nothing! Oh, look at the time! Chief Kim gonna search for me, take care guys!” San headed toward the door. Yunho and Mingi just waves to his back.

-

                “Yah Nana, look at meeeee!” Wooyoung stomped his foot. “Shut the f up Wooyoung. You know I can’t even look at myself.” Wooyoung suddenly looked guilty. Yeosang nudged him. “Why the hell you said that?” “Sorry! I’m not used to it!” Wooyoung whisper-yelled at Yeosang. “You know she was sensitive about it right? Even she’s pretending like it was nothing.” Wooyoung just sadly stares at her. Yes, even if she was not perfect, Wooyoung still likes her. “Wooyoung, I know you’re staring at me.” Wooyoung just looked away. “When did I do that? You’re mistaken, sis.” Nana rolled her eyes. “BRO, YOU LITERALLY DID THAT WHEN YOU FEEL SAD OR GUILTY ABOUT SOMETHING, I KNOW YOU LIKE THE BACK OF MY HANDS.” 

                                 Wooyoung was startled. “How did you know that?” Wooyoung asked. “Let’s say I use my other sense better after I lost my eyes. Call that intuition. And bro, we literally grew up together.” Suddenly, Yeosang starts to speak, “If you didn’t butt in someone’s business, you probably can still see us you know.” Wooyoung kicked Yeosang’s legs. “Yeosang-ah, don’t be mean!” “What, I speak the facts only.” Yeosang shrugs. Nana bit her lips. “If you didn’t like befriend with someone who likes to butt in someone’s shit, then don’t.”  She left the table. “Sorry Yeo, but you’re being a dick. Wait Nana!” Wooyoung chases after Nana. “I don’t like to befriend with a stupid whose slow with his love life either.” Yeosang sips his tea.

-

                    Nana arrived at the rooftop of her school. Wooyoung quietly closes the door. “Am I being stupid Wooyoung?” Wooyoung shakes his head, ah, he forgot Nana can’t see him. “Nope, no at all, Nana.” “I didn’t even asked to be blind! I never thought it would backfires on me! If only... “ Nana sobbed. Wooyoung hugged her. “No, Park Nana. You did the right thing. You do know that God help someone who helps other people right?” Nana nodded. “Good, and you know Yeosang didn’t mean what he said right? He just worried like me and Seonghwa after the news. He is the one who panicked the most you know? Saying things such as ‘Wooyoung if something happens to my baby while you’re slow driving right now,you’re dead.’ He cares about you like a lot.” Wooyoung shuddered. 

                   “Okay, I should probably search for him.” Nana seems a bit touched and pulled back. Wooyoung saw the snorts attached to his uniform but didn’t say anything. “Sorry for that Wooyoung, to watching me crying my ugly ass” Wooyoung shakes his head. “As long as my princess happy.” Nana smiled. The nickname he used on her still used till today. Strangely, they’ve never fight. Just annoying here and there, mainly Wooyoung started it tho. This special bond they’ve shared till this day never failed to amazed them. 

-

                  They went back into the class. Other students badmouthing Nana right in front of her as they were jealous with how beautiful and smart Nana is before that accident happens. The badmouthing now has worsen since Nana became blind, saying she’s an attention seeker. And Nana just start loosing her confidence. Before, she would retort to those rumors strongly but now she’s scared they will be worsen and she can’t protect herself if Wooyoung and Yeosang were not around. But when Wooyoung came, they changed their attitude. Yeosang can’t stand this kind of behavior. “Hey you bitch one and bitch two. Stand up.” The girls who were badmouthing Nana stands up instantly. If Nana was a gun, Yeosang was a bazooka. That kid never losing a verbal fight even once in his life. Straight up burn everyone with his words alone.  

                   “Wooyoung and me didn’t fail our last year final exam on purpose and retake this year just to hear you bullying Nana. Your face doesn’t get approved even if you just wished to be our girlfriends. Even a tons of make up and plastic surgeries will not cover your ugliness because that comes from your heart. Yet you call an ulzzang and natural face like her an ugly woman? Apologize.” The girls were speechless and stuttered but before Yeosang could raise his voice, Nana grabbed his arm. “That’s enough, let’s go Yeosangie.” Yeosang just let her drag him away to their seat. Just in time, the teacher came in and the class starts.  “I’m sorry for earlier Yeosangie.” Yeosang just smiled and patted her head.

-

                 After the school ends, Nana went straight up to Seonghwa’s flower shop. She called for her brother, well, no one is answering. But, after a while, her heart started to beat fast. ‘Shit,not this again.’ She quickly went to hide behind the counter. The door’s bell were ringing and someone sounds breathless as if they just ran. ‘Fuck, I’m not ready to meet him yet!’ “You’re here right? And you can feel it too. Please, I’ve been waiting to get to know you..” Nana’s heart just a bit melted by his sweet voice. “Sorry, but I’m not ready to meet you yet. If you were willing, can we just exchanges name for today? We can take it slow.” As long as that is what his soulmate wants, Yunho obligated. Even if he’s already know what was her name. (Doesn’t want to sound like a stalker~) “My name is Jeong Yunho, and I’m waited for 20 years to serve my beautiful soulmate.” He said it so cheesily that Nana starts to blush. “My name is Nana, I’m sorry but I don’t want you to see me in this condition right now. Can you please leave? You can come when I’m stabilized myself tomorrow.” Yunho just confused and agreed with it as he doesn’t want to come off as pushy soulmate in their first meeting. After he left, Nana released her breath. She didn’t even realised she was holding her breath this whole time. But, she kind of wondering, what kind of face does he has? Dog-like? Cat-like? Doesn’t matter, she can’t see them anyways.  

[bakugohoex]

Can I request general relationship hcs with kuroo? Thanks!

“you’re all mine, kitten”

pairing: tetsuro kuroo x female reader

cw: fluff, implied NSFW, kissing 

word count: 2100+

a/n: kuroo is smol and is a baby who i love, but we all want him to rail us um chile anyways so-

summary: in which you’re in a relationship with kuroo

↞ back to haikyu!! masterlist

Big dick energy, that’s all I’m saying BIG DICK ENERGY

Not only is this baby packing but he just a cocky science nerd who will send you science jokes and memes every hour of the day

Your whole Instagram dms are just the same meme in different fonts

His hair is soft but just knotty, you spend half an hour unknotting it because you know he would not care

He got other priorities he only lets you do it because he sits between your thighs

Will call you kitten and will have you saved as kitten on his phone

He’ll wait for you after every class to take to your next, he feels bad about you waiting after volleyball practice so this is him making it up to you

You both end up going to Kenma’s at night because you see his light on and make him go to sleep

Kenma hates how it’s become having two parents now

Baby will squish your face in every photo you have together, if his hands aren’t on your face it’ll be on your body

He smacks your ass in public this man has no chill

He’ll make you study with him just to spend more time with each other

Would do that Tiktok with you where he wears a maid outfit and you sit between his thighs, comments be thirsty for our maid boy and you’d simp even more for him

Whenever you make food you have to make extra because he pouts if he doesn’t get any of it

He does the obnoxious laugh where he holds his stomach when you act snarky with his team

He in love with you

Can’t lie will ask to fuck anywhere, will literally text a cute paragraph being like ‘good morning good luck for your test kitten *heart eyes*’ and then 20 minutes later send ‘I found an empty classroom, quickie?’

This man has no chill, but you’ll accept cause its Kuroo

He’d make you be Nekoma’s manager which means you become a parent to the whole team

Couch Nekomata doesn’t mind because you control them all and he loves how you make the team and Kuroo specifically work harder

When he blocks a ball, you know his ass would look straight to you to make sure you watched, you’d always cheer him on though because he’d get sad and do a Bokuto which is what nobody needs

You get made to come to the training camp and he gets way to protective over you because this is the first time you’ve met everybody properly

He’s wary of Karasuno and even Bokuto (even though you and Bokuto were already friends)

He protec, he attac but most importantly he loves your ass

“You’re staying by my side for the whole week, okay?” His arms were wrapped around your waist as his chest was behind your back, you stared up at his neck and jaw, laughing at the comment, “it’s not funny, Y/n, you’re like an exothermic reaction, you spread hotness everywhere”

He had started to pout as you face him, Karasuno’s bus arriving shortly, the rest of the schools had already arrived and when Bokuto had given you a hug from not seeing you in a while, Kuroo was pouting like a lost puppy. He had decided that from then on you would be attached to him and if you weren’t he wouldn’t rest till you were near him or in his eyesight,

“You’re being jealous Tetsu,” you had moved to see his face properly his arms still around your waist, as his hold on you was gently but possessive.

“But they might spend more time with you.” He mutters out.

“Kuro leave Y/n-chan alone.” Kenma spoke as the bus came through the gates.

You smiled shaking your head at Kenma who had looked up from his game, “thank you Kenma”

Kuroo didn’t reply instead holding onto your waist as his body shifted to suit the height difference, as much as you loved Kuroo, his love for you had no bounds and the lack of attention you had been giving him was neither yours fault it was just a perk of being manager.

“Daichi.” You smiled out having met him weeks prior, Kuroo’s hand still around your waist as you both walked towards the team.

“Y/n-chan.” The small orange haired boy shouted as he ran up to you both, “I can’t wait to play, I’ve been practicing, are you going to be watching?”

“I’ll try and watch your games Hinata” You smile as the boy was a ball of energy going to pester Kenma as you see Lev start to make fun of him for his height. “Lev don’t be mean.”

You had scolded Lev a lot but in your heart you knew he would turn out to become an amazing player if he kept up all the work he was doing, “sorry y/n-chan.”

You shock your head laughing as Kuroo had started talking to Daichi and Sugawara, his hand still placed on your waist, “how was the trip?” You asked Sugawara, his gentle features inviting anyone to talk to him.

“It was really long, Couch Ukai doesn’t even let us take breaks.” Sugawara smiled out as everybody had started to move inside.

“That’s old couches for you, Couch Nekomata makes me carry the boy’s sweaty vests from games, the smell and feeling I get makes me want to puke.” Kuroo’s arm had left your waist not realising as you walked inside with Sugawara.

“That sounds gross, I would actually hate that so much, you’re going to have so much fun carrying more vests this week at least.”

“Ha ha very funny.” You laugh as Kuroo and Daichi had stopped talking to each other and Kuroo was trying to spot your y/h/c but to no avail he couldn’t find you. 

You and Sugawara had gone your separate ways as he had gone to get ready for the games, not noticing Kuroo had been looking for you, you went back to the gym, where the games were about to begin. “Y/nnnn” You heard the tall grey-haired boy speak.

“Yes Lev.” You said turning around to meet him.

“Yaku hit me in my back.” He said sadly.

You rolled your eyes at him, “did you make fun of his height again?”

Lev stayed silent as he dragged him along to Yaku, “apologise Lev.”

He listens not wanting to be scolded by you, Kuroo had walked in watching as you made the two of them talk again, not wanting anything to ruin the training camp, you went over to tell Kiyoko and Yachi what would happen and where everything was before going up to Bokuto.

“You’ll do good today.” You smile as you knew Akaashi didn’t want to see sad Bokuto at all.

“So, when do I get my praise Kitten.” Kuroo whispered in your ear as you stood to the side.

You rolled your eyes turning to face him, “did I forgot to give my big strong baby some encouragement.”

You teased him as he brought you closer to his body, “yeah you did kitten, you owe me one now.”

“Kuroo get off of Y/n” Couch Nekomata shouted as the games were about to start. You laugh watching as he huffed letting you go.

“You’ll do amazing Tetsu.” You cheered as he went to start the game.

You had had enough time to have many breaks and when you did you were running around passing towels and water bottles to the team rather talus worrying about giving Kuroo attention. You knew he missed it and after the games were done you would give him as much as you could. You had just finished giving the bottles out as you saw Yachi holding a box of water bottles that looked like they were about to fall, you quickly ran towards her catching them just as her hands were about to slip.

“Y/n are you okay?” Yachi said scared at what had occurred, Kuroo had rushed over to see if anything was wrong, even though you were fine.

“I’m fine Tetsu.” You laugh as he looked at your fingers, Yachi taking the box back, he saw the red colouring of your hands,

“Let me kiss it better at least.” You laughed as you let him do what he wanted too, kissing each finger tip before leaving a trail on the reddening mark.

“You’re such a simp Kuroo.”

“Your simp at least.” He laughed as the games began again.

Small intimate moments would always hold a place in your heart, you loved Kuroo’s soft side and even then his normal funny humorous side still made your heart beat as well. He was the love of your life and he proved to you that he was always there for you.

The games had finally finished as every team moved on to do some training or other things, Kuroo making you come with him, Akaashi and Bokuto, well that’s what he wanted to happen.

“Y/n can I ask you something before you go?” You nod at Daichi as you let go of Kuroo’s hands.

“Ill meet you there.” You pecked his cheek before walking in Daichi’s direction, Kuroo’s cat eyes observed what would play out.

Daichi hadn’t really asked for a lot, he wanted to know if you could get a copy of how many games each team had won and lost at the end of the week, “I’d ask Kiyoko but she’s already keeping a watch on points scored and teaching Yachi the ropes.”

“Daichi don’t worry about it, I have to make one for Nekoma anyway and I was going to offer it to all the teams, so I’ll gladly give you it at the end of the day.” You smile as you laugh at how Daichi had needed to ask to gain such a trivial thing.

“Oh also, thank you for saving Yachi and our water bottles.” He smiles out.

You pat his shoulder laughing again, “don’t worry about it, couldn’t get your new manager hurt now could I.”

He laughs a yeah as you both go your separate ways, as you walk out of the first gym towards were Kuroo and the rest of them would be, you felt someone grab your wrist as they pulled you to hit the wall outside the gym.

“Kitten it seemed you and our rival were getting close.” Kuroo whispered in your ear, you could recognise his voice anywhere, one hand on the wall as the other came up to touch your face, slowly caressing it.

“He just wanted to thank me for saving Yachi.” Your breath becoming heavier, you hated to admit it but you loved this side of Kuroo, it made you feel alive and needed as if Kuroo loved every fibre of you enough to care about as much as he did.

Kuroo moved his head closer not wasting to reply, his lips fell onto yours, having to bend down to reach your height, your hands grabbed his collar, as ur hand rested on his collar and the other in his dishevelled hair. He smirked knowing how needy you were for him, how much you wanted his body pressed against you, his body pushing you onto the wall. His hand moved from your face to your waist making sure to bring your body closer to him.

The kiss deepened as his tongue moved inside of your own, you wanted to feel more of him but knew you had to wait till the week was over, you knew he’d try to ask throughout for quickies anywhere that had a lock but you wanted to be able to moan his name out loud and clear without having to be quiet.

A soft moan escaped your lips as his rough hand held onto your waist tighter to bring you even closer to his body, his touch sending electric shocks through your body at how hungry and satisfying the kiss was.

“Oi Kuroo you better not be groping Y/n, we have to practice.” Bokuto was shouting as he started to walk outside.

Kuroo finally let go, as the saliva and spit broke free from each other’s mouths, he smirked wiping his mouth before bringing his thumb and wiping your own, “you’re so needy kitten, do you want more?”

You pout knowing he was teasing you as you nod your head, “now remember,” he paused as he admired your dishevelled look, “you’re all mine, kitten.”

You nodded as you did want more but saw the tips of owl boy come closer and closer, “we’ll finish this later.” Is all Kuroo said as he took your hand dragging it towards the confused Bokuto.

You knew that you weren’t going to last the week without Kuroo on you or more specifically in you, but you’d be patient or even yet maybe you would let him have a quickie in a classroom somewhere.

If you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and I’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alaina-rose13

[screensirenfic]

Black Leather - Chapter 18

Billy kept good on his word on waiting for me, sitting silently in his Camaro smoking cigarettes out his window and listening to Metallica tapes on his radio.

It was actually kind of sweet; the man’s newfound patience an endearing personality trait so many guys our age were lacking.

I’d finished stripping out Marty’s brake pads with minimal ribbing from Johnny; his focus too fixated on Billy to tease me about my inadequate arm length.

He’d tried teasing me about Billy, until I’d reminded him that despite him measuring near seven feet; he was a beanpole, and my so called “boyfriend” could break both his arms like toothpicks.

That shut him up, and the twenty minutes of blissful silence that followed was perhaps the most peaceful moments of my short career.

Clocking out of Charlie’s at just past five thirty; the stench of gasoline and oil on me was riper than an oil tanker. I could probably use a shower, but I’d promised Billy a conversation, and I didn’t need to smell good to talk.

I pulled on my leather jacket, thankful the lingering scent of my perfume at least partially masked the scent of chemicals, then made my way out to Billy.

He sat there waiting; engine off, but keys in the ignition, ready to leave on my say so.

I opened the side door and climbed into the passenger seat, not minding too much that I’d probably leave grease stains on his seats.

“Sorry I’m late. Charlie said I couldn’t finish till I stripped the break pedals.” I apologised, slamming the door shut behind me.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not in a hurry.” Billy shrugged, turning the engine over, before starting up the car and pulling away.

——————————————————-

Twenty minutes had passed and me and Billy hadn’t said so much as a word to each other, and I was beginning to wonder if his plan was just to drive in circles around Hawkins until I had no choice but to forgive him.

Thank God for radio; though I had to admit the rather sexually suggestive lyrics of Black Leather did little to put my mind at ease.

I pulled out my cigarettes and sparked up, cranking open the window a crack, because even though Billy’s car stunk of smoke and he probably wouldn’t care; I could use the air.

Inhaling a breath, before holding it for a sec, then letting out a stream of smoke; I kept my eyes on my window, not wanting to check if he was watching me or not.

“So does this little road trip have a destination, or...” I began, finally breaking the silence, because it was damn clear he had no intention to.

“Patience...” Tutted Billy; a smile stretching across white teeth as he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road.

“All will be revealed soon enough.” He teased with a far too eager smile; his stick hand leaving the shift to reach across to my bare thigh, giving it the slightest squeeze.

“You know; Billy, if this is some kind of trick so you can drag me off to the woods and have your way with me, you have another thing coming.” I threatened, though I still decided to ignore his hand on my thigh; the warm weight almost reassuring against my skin.

“Relax sweetheart...” He purred; blue eyes meeting mine in the rear view mirror as his fingers began massaging circles on my thigh.

“If I wanted to have my way with you; I would’ve jumped you in the parking lot.” He continued to tease with a wide smile; his fingers slipping further up my thigh with very clear intent.

I acted on instinct, bringing my still smouldering cigarette down to his hand and pressing the end into his skin.

“Shit!” He hissed, whipping his hand away from thigh and shaking it in the air.

I grinned as he inspected the fresh burn; a pretty pink against his sun kissed skin.

“What the fuck was that for?” He asked, looking between me and the burn as if he couldn’t quite believe I’d caused it.

“I said no hands.” I stated; giving him a wicked smirk, because he wasn’t the only one who could play dirty.

To my surprise; he shot me back a dry grin, hand resettling on the steering wheel.

“Promises, promises...” He muttered; one side of his grin quirking up higher than the other, before he revved the engine, kicking it up another couple of gears in a loud display of dominance.

————————————

Contrary to Billy’s little mind games in the car; he did have a destination in mind, slowing to a stop in front of a humble looking two story.

He put the car in park and turned off the engine, making it clear we’d arrived.

“Where are we?” I asked, taking in the elongated porch and whitewash exterior, whilst Billy sparked up a cigarette.

“My house.” He stated, taking a drag of his cigarette before getting out of the car.

All my nerves suddenly jumped me at once, because why the hell was Billy bringing me to his house? What the fuck was his endgame here?

The implication didn’t seem to phase him as he casually swung his door shut, making his way towards the front of his house.

I followed suit, climbing out of the car, because no way he could just drop something like that on me, then expect me to be fine with it.

“Yeah; I can see that. Why are we here, Billy?” I asked, incredulousness clear in my voice as I refused to leave my safe space by the car.

“I told you I wanted us to go somewhere and talk...” He explained casually, taking his keys from his jacket pocket and unlocking the door.

“So here we are.” He said, swinging the door open with theatrical finesse, and I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes, because of course; he’d find this funny.

Still; he waited patiently for me on the porch, staring expectantly at me until I eventually relented, slamming closed his car door and marching over to him.

“Ladies first...” He teased, and I could hear the smirk in his voice as I crossed the threshold, taking in the inside of his house for the first time.

“Nice place...” I complimented as I shoved off my jacket, and I meant it; whoever Billy’s parents were, they clearly had decent interior decorating skills.

“You serious?” Billy asked incredulously as he took of his own jacket, slamming the front door with the heel of his boot.

“Yeah... “ I nodded, taking in the myriad of pastel blues, and was that sea shells?

“Very kitschy.”

“Isn’t that another word for tacky?” He asked, crossing the room to toss both our shed jackets onto the couch.

“No; more like quirky.” I disagreed, letting my fingers linger on the freshly painted fireplace.

“I like it.” I admitted, watching as Billy made a beeline for what must’ve been the kitchen.

“Well; someone has to.” He muttered, making his way to the fridge and opening the door to look inside.

“Can I get you a beer?” He asked, already routing through the contents for the drink in question.

“I thought we were meant to be talking; not drinking?” I drawled, leaning against the doorway, because although I liked Billy’s house; we were alone, and I didn’t trust him quite that much.

Billy just shrugged, beer in hand as he slammed the fridge door.

“Can’t we do both?” He asked, making his way across the kitchen towards me, and even despite his offer; there was still only one beer in his hand.

“Okay then; talk.” I stated, as he popped the cap off with his thumb, taking a long swig of the beer; a thin bead escaping down his chin and along his neck.

“Okay then...” He began, pausing to catch the drop with his thumb and then sucking it into his mouth with an obscene pop; and did he really have to be so damn provocative all the time?

“I’m sorry.” He apologised, settling opposite me in the doorframe with his beer in hand, and maybe he really was.

He did look pretty cut up at the autoshop, and maybe I’d been a little harsh on him.

“I acted like a dick and that was wrong. Is there something I can do to make forgive me?” He added with a sly smirk, and all my sympathies died along with his second chance.

“Wow...” I almost laughed, because I honestly couldn’t believe I was beginning to feel sympathy for Billy Hargrove..

“You really are a dick.” I stated, pushing up from the doorframe and heading straight for the front door, because I’d already learned more than enough from this situation.

“Come on, Lola! I apologised.” He whined as I made my way to the couch, already pulling on my jacket.

“And that suddenly makes everything so much better.” I clipped, staring daggers at the man who kept playing me so easily.

“Well; what the hell do you want me to say? I can’t control what people say about us!” He argued, already following me into the living room with that stupid wronged expression on his face.

I laughed dryly, because of course; he’d try to play the blame game.

Billy Hargrove could do no wrong. Billy Hargrove was a verified angel and I had no right to toss around accusations like that.

“You know what; Billy. I have been dealing with rumours about my sex life long before you showed up, and I will continue to deal with them long after you’re gone.” I stated, pulling on my jacket, because I was leaving; just let him try and stop me.

“If it’s not Tina and Ally claiming I’ve been fucking Harrington since the eighth grade; it’s Tommy and Carol saying I’m a dyke.” I continued to rant, untucking my hair from my jacket as I made my way to the front door.

“Lola; come on...” Billy whined, following behind me as I attempted to leave.

“No; Billy!” I yelled, spinning to face him, because just once I’d like to finish what I was saying without him interrupting me.

“I’m fucking sick and tired of you and everybody else thinking you know me, when you really fucking don’t.” I drilled; my eyes boring holes into Billy’s skull and rendering him speechless for once.

I took the opportunity to try and leave, opening the latch on the door and pulling it open.

“Lola; please...” Billy whined, reaching over my head to block the door from opening.

“Billy; let me go...” I demanded; having had it up to here with him using force to get what he wanted with me.

“Lola; come on...” He continued to plead; his voice a soft contrast to his firm grip on the door.

“Billy; I swear to God, if you don’t let go of this door right now, I’ll...” I began to threaten; patience already run out.

“You’ll what? Throw another hissy fit?” He snapped; clearly having abandoned the pleading tactic in favour of something a little more solid.

“Threaten to choke me with my own entrails?” He continued; and I just crossed my arms across my chest, my posture telling him exactly how effective his new approach was.

“You’re an asshole.” I snarled, hating this prick more than ever, because he really thought I wouldn’t do it; that I was all bark and no bite.

“Oh; I’m the asshole? I’m the asshole?” He snorted incredulously, eyes near comically wide in indignation.

“I’m the one who apologised, yet I’m still the asshole; tell me how that works?” He retorted; his posture turning tenser by the second.

“That wasn’t even a proper apology!” I bit back; honestly in disbelief that he could make out he was the wronged party in all this.

“Oh; you want a proper apology?! Well; where do I start?! Let me see...” He ridiculed, stepping back so he could lean against the coffee table pondering dramatically in mock thought.

“Billy...” I sighed, rubbing my forehead, because this was really getting out of control; and since when had this turned into a shouting match?

“No, no, no. I’ll give you your damn apology.” Billy spat, already having chosen his hill to die on and had begun building trebuchets whilst we spoke.

“I’m sorry everyone at school thinks I slept with you...” He began, sounding the furthest thing from it as he stared me down with outraged blue eyes.

“Billy...” I tried to calm him, knowing that the more he spoke; the tighter he’d get wound, and I really didn’t want to be in the blast zone when he exploded.

“No. I’m sorry that Carol and Tina and Tommy H and whoever the fuck else are complete and total dicks...” He ranted, and I had to agree that one was true; not that I was going to say it to him mid-rant.

“Billy; please...” I petitioned once again, trying to stop this battle from turning into an all out war zone.

“Oh wait; I’ve got it! I’m sorry that Steve jackass Harrington is too much of a pussy and hasn’t manned up and fucked you yet...” He spat; venom colouring every word.

“Billy, stop.” I warned; he’d really gone too far this time, and I wasn’t sure I could continue to stand here whilst he dragged me backwards over hot coals.

“So please tell me, Lola, because I’m not exactly sure which one of these I’m meant to be sorry f...”