#happened to do it on the most mid day possible

[runariya]

Touch the Sky (m.)

summary: You turn Jungkook’s military life upside down, and his heart along with it. pairing: idol!Jungkook x f!reader genre: idolverse, military-verse, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: allusion to minor assault, foul language, getting tasered (third party), fluff, JK's smitten, fluff, catcalling, protective JK, vomiting, aaaaaand fluff, explicit sexual content, oral (f. + m. receiving), protected sex, multiple f.orgasms, multiple (2) positions, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 9.6k

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

It’s getting annoying.

Annoying to the point where Jungkook can’t focus on his workout routine properly, and he reckons his comrades feel the same. They’ve felt it since the day you arrived, silently sitting in the corner of the gym every day, watching, assessing, scribbling on your tablet, keeping a straight face no matter what.

He’d seen it coming, though. One day, as usual, you entered the gym five minutes on the dot after training started, bowing to no one in particular but everyone at once. Your gaze bored literal holes into everyone present, like always, and it was only a matter of time before someone snapped. 

Bong was the first, and last, not a week ago, when he saw red. He stormed straight over to you, cornered you, and demanded to know what the hell you wanted and who you were. Jungkook had half a mind to intervene, to de-escalate the situation because, well, frankly, you were, are, just a tiny, petite woman, probably just doing your job. And Bong? Bong was, is, 250lbs of pure muscle and testosterone.

But Jungkook hadn’t even had time to make the decision to walk over before you, without batting an eyelash, tasered poor Bong to the ground and resumed your notes right after, as if nothing had even happened.

But still, after a whole week has passed since then, it’s still annoying. You’re still annoying.

“Chill out, Jaykay.” Jimin, who’s letting his hands hover over the bench press in case Jungkook can’t keep the weight lifted any longer, though that would never happen, grins down at him.

“I am chill.”

Well, maybe he’s not. Not when he’s clenching his jaw so hard he reckons his teeth are seconds away from shattering, though not because of the weight, that’s for sure.

“Ignore her.”

“Who?”

And while Jungkook knows exactly who Jimin’s talking about, and also knows that, yes, he’s definitely aggravated by your stares at this point, he can’t do shit about it. He needs to remind himself that you’re just a woman. Clearly not part of the military, because you don’t greet anyone the way soldiers or others are obliged to, yet you’re still too involved to be here without someone escorting you out.

He can’t fucking think when you’re around. Not that there’s much thinking involved in working out, lifting weights isn’t exactly a task that requires brainpower, but your stares, whenever they find his form, which he can feel on his skin as soon as they land, fuck him up to the point where they make him forget whether he’s supposed to inhale or exhale, leaving him out of breath too soon and causing his muscles to ache like never before.

At this point, he’s sure you could be labelled as part of the gym’s inventory. Not just because you’re as silent as the equipment, if that’s even possible, but also because, if he’s honest, he can’t imagine this place without you anymore. It drives him insane, especially when all he wants to do is walk over and make you talk. Get a reaction out of you, any reaction, really. Maybe even choke you while his di—

His dumbbell freezes mid-push, his eyes incredulously wide at his own thoughts, as Jimin’s leaning over him, face split in half by the most insufferable, knowing grin Jungkook has ever seen.

“Thinking thoughts?”

“Shut the fuck—”

But as if the day couldn’t get any worse, Kang, the base commander, strides into the room, causing everyone, including Jungkook, to put their equipment away. In seconds, they’re standing stiff, saluting and reciprocating the greeting in unison: “Dan-gyeol. (Unity)”

“Resume.”

But nobody processes the command, too confused by the sight of someone in such a high position here.

Much to everyone’s surprise too, if that’s even possible, Kang turns to you. Again, he salutes, which causes you to rise gracefully from the bench and bow silently, as you always do.

Jungkook can’t tear his eyes away, not when your angelic face remains unmoving, nodding to whatever the commander is saying. And even though he’d love to strain his ears, play mouse just this once, to get a clue about what makes you so special, he knows he has to follow orders and resume his training.

While Jungkook stays silent like everyone else, he can’t stop his eyes from drifting to you again and again, like some pathetic little boy checking if his crush is flirting with someone else.

Stop.

A crush? No. He doesn’t do crushes. How absurd.

Though as your mesmerising eyes briefly glance his way, his heart flips him the metaphorical middle finger by rocketing straight out of his throat.

And Jungkook realises now, that he is doomed.

Fuck. 

You’re late.

You’re never late, so why are you late this time?

Jungkook doesn’t know, and somehow he doesn’t want to know. Not because he kind of has a bad feeling about it, but because he refuses to acknowledge the possibility that you might not come back ever again. It would make sense, in a way, seeing as Kang came by the last time Jungkook saw you.

It doesn’t help that Jimin’s being a little shit too, unable to keep his mouth shut about Jungkook glancing one too many times towards the gym door.

“One more.” Well, at least Jungkook can pay him back by pushing him just a tiny bit over his limit.

“I can’t,” Jimin groans, clearly struggling to lift the dumbbell one more time. His arms are shaking, and his face is so red that even Jungkook fears he might burst a vein in his eye.

“You can, and you will, hyung.” He didn’t mean to let his frustration out on Jimin, but who can fault him?

He’s what now? 27 years old? Struggling with his emotions, no, scratch that, his hormones over a woman he hasn’t even spoken to once in weeks? He doesn’t even know your name, so why on earth are his hormones going haywire?

Jungkook can’t tell. Just like he can’t tell how many days have passed or how many are left in his military service. But he knows exactly how many times he’s seen you. God, he wants to roll his eyes at himself, at the way he’s acting like a teenager, when he never even got the chance to be one in the first place.

Maybe that’s the problem. He never had the opportunity to experience this kind of infatuation. His busy schedule and the ever-present gold-diggers demanding too much of him didn’t leave space for what others felt years ago.

But when the door finally creaks open, all those thoughts vanish.

And while everyone startles into saluting position, Kang enters the room first, it’s Jungkook’s eyes, though, that can’t look away from your petite form trailing behind Kang, bowing the second you both stand before the soldiers.

“Dan-gyeol.”

“Dan-gyeol,” everyone answers in unison.

You’re so pretty again, your hair styled perfectly, shimmering healthily under the fluorescent lights. Jungkook’s mind starts spinning in circles, stopping only occasionally as he notices new details about you he hadn’t before. Like how your left shoulder hangs slightly lower, probably from carrying your bag on that side. Or the faint tremble in your hands around your tablet. He’s not sure if that’s always been there or if his gut feeling was right all along.

“Private Song Bong. Private Jeon Jungkook. Step forward.”

Jungkook doesn’t like this, not when he can’t even grasp what he might have done wrong for him and Bong to be singled out. Maybe you snitched on Bong for cornering you. Though, to be fair, you tasered him, but still that obviously wouldn’t end well for Bong. Maybe Jungkook’s stares weren’t appropriate. Maybe he’s screwed up too and can’t do anything about the punishment he’ll get for just looking.

“Private Bong, your recent actions are unacceptable. Attempting to assault an outsider, especially a woman, not only violates military code but also brings disgrace to this unit. Your conduct has revealed major deficiencies in character, and as a result, you are hereby removed from your current duties in supply inventory management. Effective immediately, you will be assigned to latrine duty for the next month. Consider this your opportunity to reflect on what it means to uphold the standards of this base and the military as a whole. Dismissed.”

And while Bong doesn’t protest but just steps back in line, Jungkook’s hands turn cold, his eyes switching between Commander Kang and you as he waits for a verdict he doesn’t even know the cause of, all while you’re staring blankly somewhere behind him and the other soldiers.

“Private Jeon.” Jungkook can’t help but gulp violently, though he tries to keep his face as stoic as he was taught. “Your exemplary conduct, unwavering character, and outstanding mental and physical strength have not gone unnoticed. As of today, you are relieved of your current duties in the kitchen and reassigned to the elite training programme for aspiring jet fighter pilots within the special forces. You will accompany me and Doctor ___ immediately to commence your training. This is an extraordinary opportunity, and I trust you will continue to excel and bring honour to this unit. Congratulations, Private Jeon.”

Muscles stiff, Jungkook salutes on instinct. “Chungseong! (Loyalty) I will do my best, sir!”

“Resume.”

It doesn’t take long until Jungkook follows you and Commander Kang out of the gym as everyone resumes their training, his footsteps echoing awkwardly in the corridor, making him too aware of the way only his trainers squeak against the polished floor, but he pushes the thought aside. 

This is big. Special Forces. 

Something he’s dreamed about but always was told was off the table because of his tattoos. And yet, he’s somehow being escorted to God-knows-where in a wing of the base he’s never even seen before.

Excitement rushes through him, but right underneath it is curiosity he can’t seem to shake. What’s your deal? Who even are you? You’re not military, your lack of a formal greeting protocol and Kang calling you an ‘outsider’ made that clear, but you’ve been given more authority than most. He steals a glance at you, walking slightly ahead of him, your posture as stiff as ever, and not to mention, your face betraying nothing. 

Kang stops outside a door and gestures for Jungkook to enter. “Private Jeon, step inside. You’ll be assessed for your new gear.”

Jungkook nods and salutes. “Yes, sir.” He hesitates briefly though, eyes flickering towards you, but you don’t even glance his way. Instead, you stay behind with Kang as he steps through the door.

Inside, another soldier is already waiting, a no-bullshit guy who doesn’t bother with introductions. There’s a computer, several measuring devices, and a distinct lack of comfort in the room as the soldier gestures for Jungkook to strip, and Jungkook just blinks.

“Boxers too, or…?”

“Keep those on,” the guy replies dryly. “We’re not running that kind of experiment.”

Jungkook huffs a small laugh, trying to shake off the awkwardness. He pulls off his shirt, then his joggers, tossing them onto a nearby bench as the soldier starts rattling off instructions, explaining how he’ll be measured, weighed, and fitted for his uniform and jet fighter suit. Jungkook nods along, though half of his brain is still stuck outside the room, wondering what the hell you and Kang are talking about.

The weighing and measuring process is straightforward enough, albeit a little dehumanising. He stands still as the soldier adjusts tools around him, scribbling numbers into a notepad. Jungkook’s not shy about his body, he’s worked hard for it, but something about the clinical nature of it all makes him feel strangely vulnerable and small. 

“Alright, time for the cardio resting point assessment,” the soldier wheels a heart monitor over. “I’ll wire you up, then you’ll run in place for a few minutes. Clear?”

“Clear.”

Wires are attached to his chest, and the beeping of the monitor fills the room as Jungkook begins jogging lightly. The rhythm is soothing at first, his heart beating steadily as he focuses on the mirror in front of him, zoning out slightly, until the door creaks open behind him.

You step inside.

Jungkook’s whole body tenses, and he nearly trips over his own feet, though no one seems to notice. Through the mirror, he watches you position yourself against the wall at the back of the room. You don’t say a word, just stand there, observing him. And then, God help him just this once, your gaze starts travelling. From his legs to his torso, slow and methodical, like you’re evaluating him for parts. Jungkook knows it shouldn’t bother him, telling himself it’s probably part of your job or whatever. But it does bother him, and not in the way it should.

He tries to focus on his jogging, but his eyes keep darting to the mirror, catching glimpses of you studying him. When your gaze finally reaches his face, his heart skips a beat. Literally. And the monitor beeps erratically, the soldier frowning beside him. 

“Hold up. Your heart rate’s spiking.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest, but you beat him to it. “It’s a malfunction,” you state smoothly, your voice soft and oh-so melodic, like fucking wind chimes he dreamed about. “He’s fine. Look at his form. Textbook. His fitness levels are well above average.”

It’s the first time Jungkook has heard you speak, a compliment at that too, and it knocks the remaining brain cells out of his skull, causing him to stumble slightly, catching himself just in time, but the damage is done. His cheeks burn as he wills his heart to calm the fuck down. What is he, a schoolboy? So embarrassing, Jeon. Get a grip. 

“Malfunction, huh?” the soldier mutters, glancing between the monitor and Jungkook. He doesn’t look convinced, but he shrugs and waves Jungkook off the machine. “Alright, you’re good. Get dressed and head to the next station.”

Jungkook nods stiffly, pulling the wires off his heaving chest and grabbing his clothes. You step out of the room before he finishes dressing, which is probably a good thing because he’s pretty sure his face is still bright red.

When he emerges, you’re waiting for him, tablet in hand and Kang thankfully gone.

“This way,” you gesture with your slender hand, not even looking at him. Your voice is still echoing in his head, soft and almost surreal to the point he debates if he’s locked in a dream. Still, Jungkook trails after you like a puppy, cursing himself for how ridiculous he feels and acts. 

The next stop is a classroom-like space, though it’s more high-tech than any classroom Jungkook’s ever seen. Screens cover the walls, displaying schematics of fighter jets, and a stern-looking instructor stands at the front. You guide Jungkook to a seat near the centre, then take a spot near the back, again, silently observing. Of. Course.

The lesson begins, and Jungkook tries his best to focus as the instructor dives into the basics of jet fighter operation, rattling off jargon that makes Jungkook’s head spin even more. He nods along, taking mental notes, but it’s hard to concentrate when he can feel your eyes on him. Not in a direct, obvious way, but more like a gentle and subtle pressure, nagging at his consciousness. 

He sneaks a glance back at you, and sure enough, you’re watching him. Your tablet rests on your lap, stylus poised, and you’re scribbling something down without even looking down. About him, probably, surely. 

What are you writing? Does it matter that his leg bounced when the instructor mentioned G-forces? Or that his jaw ticked ever so slightly when he brought up emergency landings? What could you possibly be noting down about him that’s worth recording?

He catches himself zoning out and forces his attention back to the lesson. The instructor is explaining the mechanics of takeoff, and Jungkook tries to visualise it in his head. Still, his thoughts wander, looping back to you every time.

It’s stupid, really. He barely knows you. But still, he’s completely fixated. Maybe it’s because you’re different. Everyone else on this base is easy to figure out, soldiers, commanders, all operating within the same rigid system. But you? You’re an anomaly. And Jungkook has always been drawn to puzzles.

The lesson drags on, and Jungkook keeps stealing glances back at you. Each time, you’re scribbling something new, your expression as blank as ever and he wonders if you’re even capable of smiling. What would it look like? Would your face brighten like the sun itself, your eyes crinkling at the corners? Would your lips—

Nope. Stop. Not going there.

By the time the lesson ends, Jungkook’s brain feels fried. The instructor dismisses him with a curt nod, and he gathers his things, well, more so himself, glancing back to see if you’re leaving too. But you’re still seated, tapping away on your tablet. He hesitates, unsure if he’s supposed to wait for you or move on.

“You’re dismissed, Private Jeon,” you say without looking up.

Right. Of course you knew he was waiting for you, even without seeing him. He mutters a quick, “Yes, ma’am,” salutes and hurries out of the room, feeling like a complete idiot.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to expect when you appear at the door of his barracks the next morning. All he knows is that you’re there, standing stiff as a post, clutching your ever-present tablet to your chest like it’s a lifeline.

There’s something different about you today, though, something in the way your shoulders seem too tense, your hands gripping the tablet so tightly that your tiny knuckles turn bright white. And that’s when he spots it, the taser, hidden neatly between the edge of the tablet and your chest. 

He’s not sure why it surprises him. You’ve made it clear that you’re not above using it when necessary, R.I.P. Bong’s dignity, but something about the way you hold it now, fingers trembling slightly, makes him pause.

You’re nervous. Maybe even scared.

“Private Jeon,” you greet, not quite meeting his gaze. Your voice is the same soft, melodic tone as yesterday, but there’s a barely audible hitch in it that he doesn’t miss. “Follow me.”

Jungkook doesn’t question it, just grabs his cap and falls into step behind you. He’s curious, of course, curiosity seems to be his default setting when it comes to you, but he keeps quiet, sensing that whatever’s going on, you’re not in the mood for him to voice his usual internal debates about your role on this base. Still, he can’t help but notice the way your eyes dart around the hallway, scanning every corner like you’re expecting trouble.

And, surprise, it doesn’t take long for said trouble to find you.

As you lead him through the barracks, a group of soldiers loitering by the common area turns their attention your way. The first mocking whistle cuts through the otherwise silent area, followed by a low murmur of suggestive comments that make Jungkook’s temper flare. You don’t react, not a single flinch, not even a glance in their direction, but Jungkook doesn’t miss the way your eyes turn a bit frantic, your pace quickening just enough to be noticeable.

The second whistle is louder, accompanied by a snide, “Oi, sweetheart, where’s the taser today?” and Jungkook feels something too hot coil in his chest.

Protective instincts kick in before he can stop himself, and he steps closer to you, his broad frame forming a shield between you and the others. He doesn’t say a word, he knows he doesn’t need to, his evil glare, honed from years of performance and discipline, says enough. The soldiers falter, their smirks fading under his gaze, and Jungkook takes a grim sort of satisfaction in the way they quickly turn back to their conversation.

You don’t say anything, but he can tell you’ve noticed. Your pace slows just slightly, and for the rest of the walk, the tension in your shoulders eases a fraction with each step. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make Jungkook feel like he’s done something right.

Finally, you stop outside a plain white door and push it open, gesturing for him to enter first. Jungkook steps inside, taking in the small, functional office. It’s sparsely decorated, just a desk, a chair, and a curtained-off area in the corner that seems to serve as a makeshift changing room or whatever. You follow him in, shutting the door behind you, and hand him what looks like a folded jet suit.

“This is your new gear,” you hold it out to him, again not meeting his eyes. “Try it on.”

Jungkook takes the suit, the smooth, high-tech fabric cool against his hands even where you were holding it seconds ago. “Here?” he asks dumbly, glancing around. He’s not shy, exactly, but stripping down in front of you doesn’t sit right with him. 

You raise an eyebrow, the faintest hint of exasperation creeping into your expression. “There’s a changing area,” you nod towards the curtain. “Use it.”

“Right. Of course.” Jungkook wants to slap himself twice for good measure, just because he saw that area himself.

Quickly, he ducks behind the curtain, grateful for the small reprieve. As he pulls off his uniform and steps into the jet suit, he can’t help but wonder why you seem so tense today. It’s not just the soldiers’ comments, he’s seen you handle far worse without batting an eye. No, this is something deeper, something that has your hands shaking and your voice just a touch too steady.

By the time he finishes zipping up the suit, he’s more confused than ever. He steps out from behind the curtain, and you turn to face him, your eyes flicking over him in a quick, professional assessment.

“How does it feel?”

Jungkook shrugs, rolling his shoulders. “Tight, but not uncomfortable.”

You nod, stepping closer to adjust a strap on his arm. Jungkook swears he stops breathing for a moment, the proximity doing things to his heart rate that he’d rather not admit, thankful he’s not connected to the heart monitor this time.

He watches you as you work, the way your brow furrows slightly in concentration, the soft brush of your fingers against his sleeve. And then it happens!

Your mouth twitches. Just the faintest hint of a smile, barely there and gone in an instant, but Jungkook sees it. And it wrecks him.

Oh, he’s done for. Absolutely done for. That tiny twitch of your lips? It’s enough to send his brain spiralling into a mess of thoughts he has no business thinking.

You’re human. You can smile.

He doesn’t know why that thought hits him so hard, but it does. You’ve always been so composed, so insanely unreadable, that seeing even the smallest crack in your armour feels monumental. He wants to see it again, wants to say something clever or stupid or anything, really, to make it happen, but the words stick in his throat.

“Good fit,” you agree, stepping back. “You’ll need to wear it during all training exercises from now on.”

Jungkook nods, trying to focus on your words instead of the way his heart is doing somersaults. “Understood.”

You turn away, picking up your tablet, and Jungkook’s eyes follow you. He notices the way your hands are still trembling slightly, the way you keep glancing at the door as if expecting someone to barge in. And suddenly, it clicks.

You’re scared. Not of him, he’s pretty sure you’re incapable of fearing him, even if you probably should be after the way he’s been staring, but of the soldiers. Of this place. Of what your job forces you to do.

He remembers the way Bong looked at you after the taser incident, the barely concealed fury in his eyes. You’re not just some outsider; you’re a decision-maker. You hold people’s futures in your hands, and not everyone takes that well.

Jungkook feels a pang of compassion, realising how isolating that must be. No wonder you keep everyone at arm’s length, crafting an untouchable facade day in and day out.  

“Is that all for today?” he tries, his voice softer than he intends, though he can’t help himself. 

You glance at him, surprised, as if you weren’t expecting him to speak. “For now,” your tone’s still cautious but Jungkook now understands. “There’s a briefing tomorrow morning. Be on time.”

Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t move to leave. He hesitates, debating whether to say what’s on his mind, but the words tumble out before he can stop them.

“For what it’s worth,” he starts, meeting your gaze, “you’re doing a good job.”

Your hands and eyes still slightly, and for a moment, you just stare at him. Then, without a word, you turn back to your tablet, but Jungkook doesn’t miss the way your grip on it loosens, doesn’t miss the way your lips twitch again, just a little.

As he leaves your office, he can’t help but smile to himself too. Maybe he’s starting to figure you out, and he’s down bad for it. 

The day after, you've brought Jungkook before the g-force machine, all sleek steel and imposing mechanics, like something out of a crazed sci-fi movie. Jungkook stares at it, his confidence wobbling slightly for the first time since he started his military service. He’s usually game for anything, but this? This looks like a whole different beast.

The control panel operator, a man who introduces himself simply as Sergeant Kim, gestures for Jungkook to step forward. “We’ll be running a standard g-force tolerance test today,” he explains calmly, though Jungkook's anything but. “You’ll be in the centrifuge, and it’ll spin progressively faster. The goal is to sustain 9 Gs. You’ll need to practice the anti-G straining manoeuvre, tensing your leg and abdominal muscles to keep blood flow to your brain. And don’t forget to inhale sharply every five seconds to stabilise.”

Jungkook nods, trying to keep his nerves in check. He knows what’s coming, he’s read about it, watched the videos instructed. But none of that preparation stops his palms from sweating as he climbs into the contraption.

As he settles into the cockpit-like seat, strapping himself in, he sneaks a glance at you before the door closes in his face. You’re standing off to the side with your tablet, your face, as always, composed, but there’s something in your eyes, noticeable even in this distance. Concern? Maybe curiosity? That ridiculous thought makes his poor heart do a little flip.

“Private Jeon, are you ready?” Sergeant Kim’s voice crackles through the comms.

“Ready,” Jungkook replies, his voice steadier than he actually feels.

The machine comes to life shortly after, and Jungkook grips the armrests as the centrifuge begins its slow but steady rotation. At first, it’s almost pleasant, like being on an amusement park ride. But then the speed picks up, and the pressure in his chest starts to build.

“Three Gs,” Kim announces. “Remember to breathe, sharp inhales every five seconds. And start engaging those muscles.”

Jungkook complies, tightening his legs and core as instructed. He inhales sharply, counting in his head to five, then inhales again. It’s manageable, for now.

“Six Gs.”

Now it’s not so manageable. The weight on his chest feels like someone’s parked a truck on him, and his vision starts to darken at the edges, fearing he might loose consciousness any second. It’s getting impossible to breathe, but he forces himself to stick to the rhythm. Inhale, hold for five, inhale and repeat.

“Good. Keep it up, Private. We’re going to eight Gs.”

Eight Gs feels like he’s being flattened by the universe. Every muscle in his body screams as he fights to keep the blood from pooling in his legs. His fingers dig into the armrests even more, not the least bit fazed bye the prospect of pulling a nail, and he can barely hear Kim over the deafening roaring of his blood in his ears.

“Nine Gs,” Kim announces, and Jungkook swears he’s going to pass out. His breaths are shallow now, too shallow, the strain overwhelming. He forgets to inhale on time, and suddenly the world starts to go black.

“Jungkook, inhale.”

It’s your voice. Clear, steady, crackling through the comms like a lifeline he needed. His body reacts before his brain does, taking in a sharp, desperate breath. The darkness recedes, and somehow, miraculously, he holds on.

“Test complete,” Kim announces, the centrifuge slowing with each spin until it stops and Jungkook’s free to leave this deathtrap. “Well done, Private Jeon.”

Jungkook can barely process the words. His body feels like jelly, and his mind is a swimmy, disoriented mess. But he hears the applause from Kim and a few blurred others in the control room. Then you step closer, your voice soft as you search his eyes, “Congratulations, Private Jeon. You did it.”

He manages a weak smile, the sound of your approval somehow wiggling through the fog in his head. And then, he remembers, because protocol demands it, he salutes sluggishly to Commander Kang, who’s watching from the observation deck.

“Impressive, Private Jeon,” Kang confirms with a nod.

Jungkook barely registers the compliment. All he knows is that his heart is racing, not from the test, but from the way your eyes linger on him for just a second longer, a little softer than usual. 

“Follow me,” you instruct him after bowing to the observation deck, gesturing for Jungkook to come with you.

He stumbles after you, his legs and mind feeling like rubber, partly from the adrenaline, partly from the fact that you just saved his ass in there. You lead him back to your office without a word and when you shut the door behind you, Jungkook finally lets himself relax. Well, until you grab a bin from under your desk and thrust it into his hands.

“Uh, what’s this for?” he asks, confused.

“You’re running on adrenaline,” you explain, your tone matter-of-factly but laced with humour. “It’s going to crash. Give it a few seconds.”

“I think I’m fine—”

You hold up a hand, cutting him off. “I’m going to count down from five. Trust me.”

He blinks at you but nods, too dazed to argue.

“Five,” you begin, calm, expectant.

“Four.”

His stomach flips.

“Three.”

His head feels too light, almost floaty.

“Two.”

His vision tilts.

“One.”

And then it hits. A wave of nausea so intense that he doesn’t even have time to protest before he’s heaving into the bin.

You’re by his side in an instant, one hand on his back, the other steadying his hand over the bin. “There you go,” you coo softly, your touch surprisingly soothing. “Just let it out.”

Jungkook hates this, hates feeling weak, hates the thought of you seeing him like this. But your voice is so calm, so reassuring, that he can’t bring himself to care as much as he normally would.

When it’s over, he slumps back into the chair you pull up for him, wiping his mouth with the tissue you hand him. “That… was brutal,” he mutters, his voice hoarse from all the heaving.

You smile, the first real smile this time. “Welcome to special forces training.”

Jungkook laughs weakly, shaking his head. “Is it always like this?”

“Not always,” you muse, though your tone’s too teasing for his liking. “Sometimes it’s worse.”

He groans, but there’s no real heat behind it. Despite everything, he feels better. Like he’s actually flying. Like he’s touching the sky. And he knows it’s not just the fading adrenaline talking. It’s you.

You, with your stoic face and calming voice. You, who stepped in when he needed it most. You, who smiled at him like he wasn’t just another soldier to be measured and assessed.

As he gazes into your smiling face, still feeling like crap but somehow grateful for it, a realisation forces down on him like 9 G.

He’s truly falling for you.

Jungkook stands in the hallway outside your office, his hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders hunched slightly as if he’s shielding himself from the possibility of rejection before it’s even happened. His thoughts are a mess ever since he first saw you, an ongoing tug-of-war between his nerves and his determination. He paces a little, then stops, running a hand through his short hair, the frustration about its length momentarily distracting him but not for long enough. 

“Get a grip man,” he mutters under his breath but his nerves, nor his heart, won’t calm down.

It’s been weeks since you started working together more closely, weeks of seeing the real you, the quiet strength behind your professional mask, the flashes of humour you try to hide, the empathy you can’t quite suppress even when you think no one’s watching. He’s caught himself admiring you more times than he can count, and now it’s all he thinks about.

But this isn’t just a crush, he tells himself. This is so much more. You’re different. Special. And he knows he can’t let this opportunity slip by, not when he might regret it for the rest of his life.

Of course, there’s the little matter of protocol, of the fact that you hold a position of authority in a place where strict boundaries are enforced. But you're not exactly part of the military, and Jungkook knows his service is limited too. If he doesn’t act now, he might never get another chance.

But what if you say no? His brain goes into overdrive, showing him a list of reasons why this could go horribly wrong. He imagines you laughing at him, rejecting him outright, maybe even avoiding him after this. Maybe even snitching on him, causing his removal from the special forces and being assigned to latrine duty permanently. 

Then he shakes his head. No. Stop overthinking. He’s Jeon Jungkook. An idol. A soldier. He’s faced grueling special forces training, survived G-forces that would knock most people out, and tackled challenges that seemed impossible. Surely asking you out can’t be harder than that.

“Just do it,” he preps himself, and before he can second-guess himself again, he steps up to your door and knocks.

“Come in,” your voice calls from inside, calm, angelic, and professional as always.

Jungkook takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, straightening his shoulders for some much needed confidence. 

You’re seated at your desk, as usual, your tablet in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. And as you glance up, clearly surprised to see him, you set the tablet and coffee down. “Private Jeon. What can I do for you?”

He hesitates for a split second, then, after an internal nod, takes his chances. “I wanted to ask you something.”

You nod, waiting expectantly. “Go on.”

Jungkook shifts on his feet, his nerves bubbling up again, but he forces himself to push through. “I was wondering if you’d… like to go out with me sometime.”

You cock a brow, and for a brief moment, he sees the cracks in your mask, the genuine surprise, the uncertainty. But then it’s back, your professional demeanour snapping into place like a rubber band.

“I appreciate the… sentiment,” you try carefully, “but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Jungkook doesn’t back down. “Why not?”

You sigh, standing up but toying with the things scattered on your desk. “Because it’s unprofessional. And temporary. My contract here has an end date, Private Jeon. I’ll be gone before you know it.”

“Exactly,” he counters, stepping closer. “That’s why I can’t let this go. I don’t want to regret not saying anything.”

You shake your head, moving towards the door. “It’s not that simple. You don’t understand—”

“I do,” Jungkook interrupts, maybe too desperate but he doesn’t care. “My service ends too. This isn’t temporary for me.”

That makes you pause, your hand hovering over the doorknob. “What are you saying?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, his heart pounding so violently he can’t even hear his own voice. “I’m saying, I don’t want to date just for the sake of it. I date for the future, not just the moment.”

You turn to face him fully now, your expression conflicted, mask slipping just a bit. “Do you even realise what you’re saying?”

“Yes,” he confirms without hesitation. “I know exactly what I’m saying. And I know it sounds crazy, but I’m serious about this. About you.”

Your eyes search his face, looking for… what? Truth? Sincerity? Whatever it is, he hopes you find it, because he’s never been more honest in his life.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, though your voice lacks conviction.

“Maybe,” Jungkook admits with a small smile. “But that doesn’t make it any less real.”

You sigh, glancing away, clearly wrestling with yourself. For a long moment, the room is silent except for the faint buzz of the air conditioning, but then, eventually, you look back at him.

“Alright,” you sigh finally, holding one slender finger up. “One chance. But if this doesn’t work, we go back to normal. Agreed?”

Jungkook grins, his heart soaring. “Agreed.”

You nod, reaching for the door. “Good. Now get out of my office before I change my mind.”

He chuckles, saluting playfully. “Yes, ma’am.”

As you leave with that tiny smile of yours, Jungkook stays behind for a moment, letting the reality of what just happened sink in. Then, unable to contain his excitement, he pumps his fist in the air, a triumphant smile lighting up his face.

“Fuck yeah,” he cheers quietly, still grinning like the fool he is. 

Life's good as Jungkook lies sprawled on your bed, head propped on your favourite pillow as the opening credits of some drama flicker on the TV screen. The colourful glow of the screen illuminates your beautiful face as you settle beside him, legs tucked under the shared blanket as you lie down with your head on his chest. It’s quiet, comfortable, the kind of peaceful he’s come to associate with you, and his mind drifts back to the first date that really started it all.

He still can’t believe you said yes. The memory of that first date plays in his head like a highlight reel, vivid and heartwarming to its core. You’d chosen a small, unassuming café, your idea, of course, something low-key, hidden even, and away from the base and any other prying eyes.

Jungkook had been nervous in a way he hadn’t been since debut, trying too hard to appear relaxed even if he was anything but. But you’d arrived looking effortlessly stunning in a casual outfit that still screamed you from miles away, smiling shyly as if you weren’t used to being off-duty.

From the moment you sat across from him, every doubt he ever had melted away. Conversation natural, only punctuated by your quick wit and his occasional stumbles when your laughter made him forget whatever point he was trying to make, he fell faster and harder.

By the end of the evening, he’d been so sure of one thing: you were the girl of his dreams. Not the fantasy he’d had growing up, full of vague ideals and superficial notions, but the ultimate, real thing. Someone who made him feel seen, loved, and inexplicably lighter all at once.

And he’d been right. You didn’t just help him fly in the military; you helped him soar emotionally too. For someone who’s spent years chasing perfection and pushing limits, you make him feel like it’s okay to just be. That’s why he can’t stop himself from smiling as he watches you now, your focus on the screen but your hand resting comfortably over his heart like it belongs there.

He’s been thinking about the future more often lately, imagining what it might look like when his service ends and he’s back to being “Jungkook of BTS”. The idea doesn’t scare him the way it might have before, but instead, it excites him, because he can picture you there with him, cheering him and the other members on, teasing him when he’s too nervous or too sure of himself, and being the calm to his chaotic lifestyle. 

Jungkook can see late nights at home, your laughter not only ringing in your shared space but his heart too, and maybe someday a little one running around. Maybe even two. Or three. The thought makes his soul sing, and he has to shake his head to stop himself from grinning too widely.

The days following that first date weren’t much different on the surface. Everything on base stayed the same, orders were followed, routines were maintained, but the stolen moments with you were like a secret sea in the desert. Whenever you were alone, professionalism would snap away, and you’d be kissing and giggling like teenagers sneaking behind the school. 

Jungkook’s favourite memory is when you’d pulled him into a supply closet under the pretense of finding something and kissed him until he couldn’t think straight, only for both of you to dissolve into laughter when someone, well, commander Kang walked past, oblivious.

And now, here he is with you, on his day off, not with his family or the boys but with you, learning more about you in your own space. 

Your apartment is a reflection of you, organised yet cosy, filled with small details that hint at your interests. He’s noticed the stack of random books on your desk, the playlist of songs you probably don’t realise he’s memorised by now, and the way your kitchen counter has an odd mix of military-grade efficiency and homely touches like the mismatched mugs.

You shift beside him, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You’re staring,” you state without looking away from the screen.

He chuckles softly. “Can’t help it. You’re prettier than the drama.”

You’d roll your eyes if you were the type for that, but you’ve told him it’s something you detest to your core. To you, it means not taking the other person seriously and visually dismissing them, something you find deeply disrespectful. So, you just smile that unique smile of yours, nudging him with your shoulder. “Focus. You might miss something important.”

“Doubt it,” he teases. “It’s just another love triangle, isn’t it?”

“It’s about more than that,” you argue, turning your head to him now with mock indignation. “There’s depth here. Themes of loyalty, sacrifice, and the human condition.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “And yet, the lead guy’s about to confess his undying love in the middle of a crowded park. Very original.”

“Alright, Mr. Cynic,” you pout, sitting up straighter. “You’ve got a point there.”

Jungkook cocks a brow at you, nibbling on his lip as he contemplates your words and decides to backtrack a bit. “What’s wrong with a public proposal? It’s romantic.”

“You’re right, it’s cliché.”

“Not if it’s done right.”

You scoff. “There’s no ‘right’ way to embarrass someone in front of a hundred strangers.”

Jungkook grins, sensing a debate. “Okay, hear me out. A public proposal is the ultimate love confession. It’s like shouting to the world, ‘This is my person, and I’m not afraid to show it’. It’s bold, it’s heartfelt, and it’s memorable.”

“It’s pressure,” you counter. “And what if the answer’s no? You’ve just humiliated both of you for no reason.”

“But what if the answer’s yes?” he leans closer, willing his eyes to gleam a bit more for you to fall into his trap. “Then you’ve just created a moment neither of you will ever forget.”

You tilt your head, considering him, eyes switching between his and his lips. “You’re really into this idea, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip for good measure. “Not saying I’d do it, but I get the appeal.”

“You’d definitely do it,” you reply, smirking now, transfixed by his lips like he is by yours. “You’re exactly the type to go all out with a flash mob or something ridiculous.”

He laughs, raising his eyes to yours and his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, you got me. But only if I knew the person would say yes.”

“Safe bet,” you muse.

“Always,” Jungkook agrees softly. He’s looking at you in that way that makes your cheeks heat up, but he senses immediately that you refuse to let him win this round.

“Well,” you continue, turning back to the screen, “good thing I’ll never have to worry about it. I prefer my proposals private, thank you very much.”

“We’ll see,” he murmurs under his breath, grinning when you shoot him a playful glare.

While you’re both silently watching the last minutes of the drama, Jungkook can’t help but picture his future with you, stuck on the image of you in a white dress, of you carrying his children. It’s absurd this early in your relationship, but seeing as he’s had a dry spell for the last few years and you’re now lying beside him, he can’t do anything about the blood rushing to certain parts of his body.

Your body’s so warm against his, leg leisurely draped over his, tiny hand mindlessly tracing his pecs and abs, that it takes all his willpower to stop his cock from twitching even more.

Do you feel the same? You haven’t been intimate up to this point, though your chemistry is undeniable, the pull he feels surely not one-sided. As he strains his neck just a little, trying to sneak a peek at your face, he sees you biting your lips with hooded eyes. Then he feels your thigh clench ever so slightly against his, and he knows you’re struggling too, causing his heart to start beating a little faster, his cock to grow a little harder.

Jungkook lets his free hand wander to yours on his chest, caressing his way up your arm until he reaches your jaw, tilting your head to press the most tender kiss he’s ever shared with you onto your plush lips. He lets himself savour your taste, gently pushing you fully on top of him, hands settling on your ass cheeks as he gets lost in you.

There’s no hesitation in the way you grind your clothed cunt against him, no restraint in the feathery moans that echo from your lips to his. If there’s something Jungkook could wish for, it would be to make love to you seven days a week for the rest of his life.

Your name leaves his parted lips in a husky breath as you trail open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and neck, his hands sliding up under your shirt, pulling it off and discarding it somewhere on the bed.

Jungkook takes a moment to drink you in, just a short while, before grabbing you tenderly by the neck, pulling you down, and capturing your lips again as he rolls you both over, his shirt gone not long after.

Every time your eyes meet his, peeking through your thick lashes, his heart flips, reminding him how deeply you’ve ingrained yourself in him. Even though he wants to have every inch of you, touch every millimetre of your smooth skin, he settles for your lips for now.

Trousers off, you both help each other out of your underwear with tender touches, staying close, connected by shared breath, unable to separate even for a second. Jungkook’s so smitten, it should be embarrassing, but it’s anything but, not when your eyes mirror exactly what he’s feeling.

Helping you lie down on the mattress, Jungkook kisses his way down your body, over the valley of your breasts to your most sensitive spot, letting his nose brush over your clit, Jungkook takes a whiff, then licks the first stripe up your slit. The taste of you is the best he’s ever had, leaving every favourite food of his far behind as he gets lost between your legs.

Moan after breathy moan fills the room, each one enchanting, making him unable to stop, unable to slow down as he dives deeper, pushing his tongue further into your hot, fluttering walls, wanting more, needing more.

When your delicate fingers brush over his head, gently pressing him closer as your hips lift and stutter with your first orgasm, Jungkook feels like the luckiest man in the universe, lapping up your release like the dessert it is.

He doesn’t mind that his face is smeared with your juices, doesn’t care that he’s out of breath. Fingers caressing your sides, kneading your breasts lightly before settling his elbows beside your head, he kisses your dry lips and sucking your tongue.

He’s rather surprised that, despite your obviously petite frame, you’re able to twist your thighs against his body and send him falling over, straddled by you so quickly he gets a brief whiplash.

Jungkook would have never thought of you as dominant in bed, but as he gazes at you, absolutely fascinated to the point of shock, it becomes clear to him very quickly that you’re not dominant at all, but just intent on making him feel good as well.

The beautiful smile he’s learned to love from the bottom of his heart doesn’t compare to the light, shy blush coating your cheeks, your hands trailing along his body as you slowly lean down to kiss the shock off his face. He’s been kissed before, though nothing compares to this, nothing compares to your kisses, filled to the brim with adoration he can only drown in.

It overwhelms him; you overwhelm him in the best way possible, and he needs to speak his mind, needs to let you know, because he’s done wasting time when it comes to you.

Lifting your head, dwarfed in the size of his hands, he locks eyes with your glassy ones, letting his tattooed thumb trail over your rosy cheekbone as he confesses, “I love you.”

It should have felt difficult to voice, to admit, but he doesn’t feel scared, doesn’t fear rejection even for a split second. And when your eyes light up even more, brighter than when you were coming undone minutes ago, Jungkook knows he’s finally found peace.

“I love you too, Jungkook.”

Sealed by a kiss, he presses your small frame against his, not caring that the head of his cock gets squished between your bodies. Eventually, you break free, just a little, making him feel cold in an instant even though you’re still here, still touching.

“Let me make you feel good,” you husk against his pec, toying with your tongue on his nipple, sucking, blowing, circling it until you’re satisfied with the soft moans escaping Jungkook’s lips and his hips buckling instinctively.

Never has he felt this cared for, never has anyone given him this attention, this love, and he reckons he’s nowhere near done falling deeper in love with you. Especially as you slowly crawl back, inch by inch, your warm hands trailing along his body, your mouth imprinting the feeling of your lips on his skin to the point where he’ll never be able to forget.

When you take, or rather, try to take his big cock into your hand, your eyes glittering in wonder as you realise you need both hands to even come close to giving him proper satisfaction, Jungkook thinks he might unload right there and then. But he forces his orgasm down, forces himself to let it drag out even if it takes hours, just to enjoy this moment.

“Oh god,” you moan almost inaudibly around his cock as you first take him into your mouth, eyes rolling back as if his precum tastes like pure honey, making him twitch against your throat.

And while he knows you don’t like to roll your eyes at him, in this moment, seeing this sight of you, Jungkook would take any eye roll like a trophy. Saliva doesn’t take long to drip down, coating not only his cock but your hands too, pooling at the base of his cock and balls as you give him your all.

Feeling higher than he’s ever felt before, his hands tangle at the back of your head, pushing just a bit more but never too much, your moans around his cock vibrating in sync with his own. And while he desperately wants to finish, wants to let go and bask in everything you are, he knows he needs to fully connect with you.

So, it’s the only sane action that he gently removes your head from him, lips leaving his cock with a satisfied pop. You’re undeniably beautiful, you always were, but seeing your glassy, slightly fucked-out eyes, lips beautifully swollen, and a light sheen of sweat coating your entire body, you look like a fairy granting him his last wish.

“Come here,” Jungkook guides you to him, and you fall into his arms as if compelled by a spell, though he reckons he’s just the same.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself, doesn’t know how to not kiss you stupid, or kiss himself stupid, but he doesn’t seem to have the will to question it any longer. Especially when your hand leaves his short hair, aimlessly reaching for the nightstand and conjuring a condom from the top drawer.

Jungkook takes the cue, blindly accepting the condom from your tender fingers, only checking briefly that it’s the right size, he rolls you both over, rips the packet open, and in no time secures the latex around his still-leaking cock. As your hands caress his arms and abs, your eyes locked onto his, it’s not the sight of your naked body beneath him that makes him want to cry. No, it’s your ethereal face and the look in your eyes that undoes him so gracefully. 

“Jungkook?” Your voice is as soft as ever, no tremble present, which makes him so proud. Proud that he’s obviously made you feel absolutely safe, safe in the way you make him feel too.

“Yes, love?”

The nickname makes you smile lovingly, clearly even more whipped for him as you suppress a giggle.

“I really love you,” you breathe, mesmerised to the point where Jungkook’s almost afraid you’re more in love with him than he is with you. Not that it matters, if he’s being honest.

“I love you more.”

The twitch of your brow makes him snicker, causing you to giggle as well. Jungkook captures your lips with a broad smile of his own, aligning his cock with your tiny hole, he pushes his hips in soft, careful rhythms until he’s fully nestled in your warmth. And as you, after a short breath, start to buck your hips against him, it’s his sign to get going, stroking his cock repeatedly against your tight walls. The wet squelches and your tiny cries of ecstasy are music to his ears, heart, and soul.

“Ah, Jungkook, god, there.”

He feels it, doesn’t need you to tell him. He can feel your walls clamp down on him. Still, he keeps going, needs to, both for your sake and his own.

“Come for me, love. Show me how good I make you feel,” he grunts in your ear, drowning in the scent of your hair as he keeps his pace strong and steady.

When you shatter beneath him, nails digging into the strained muscles of his back, Jungkook keeps going. He focuses, restrains himself, riding out your orgasm until your grip loosens around his frame.

“More?” he kisses our lips briefly, though they’re now only loosely parted.

“Yes.”

The moan that escapes your mouth is rather forced, but your eyes are still hungry.

So, Jungkook slips out, settling beside you and gently turning you onto your side as well, pulling you back against his chest. Lifting your leg over his, he pushes his cock back inside you from behind, thrusting into your dripping cunt without mercy while his hand finds your neck and jaw, tilting your head slightly so he can pamper you with kisses.

“Jungk-o-o-o-k,” you mewl as his other hand trails down to your clit, circling it in perfect rhythm with his thrusts.

“Yeah? Feels good?”

“So good. So good, Jungkook.”

And he feels the same, fantastic even, savouring every moment as he gradually builds his own orgasm.

“One more, love, hm?”

Jungkook drinks in the sight of you, your tits bouncing lightly, your eyes rolling back every few seconds, your tiny hands gripping his veiny arm, nails digging into his tattoos as you moan over and over again.

“Yes,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for him to let himself go too, letting his mind and body rise higher as he flies over the clouds with you right by his side.

“Fuck, ___, love, fuck,” he pants. Your walls haven’t stopped spasming around him for minutes, and his thrusts turn erratic as you both come together in a grand finale, gripping each other like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded on Earth.

The orgasm lasts far longer than Jungkook ever expected, though he wouldn’t trade even a second of it, not when you’re this perfect and he feels the same for you.

But eventually, even though he’s touched the sky with you, you both have to come back down. And as reluctant as he is to pull out, getting rid of the condom right after, it’s you he turns to, and always will.

Especially when the giggles you let out as he carries you to the shower are everything he needs for the rest of his life and beyond.

a/n 2: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀 If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

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permanent taglist: @runariyaluvr , @closer-to-jungkook , @dreamcatcherluvr , @blueofocean, @https-mei, @xsyruhh , @nemelkawar , @joonlover1207 , @elinaki92

[sbeveperke]

im late, its the crunchiest quality ever, but slay!!!

[sysig]

Bad time of it, all things considered (Patreon)

[fushitoru]

trouble a gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ bully!satoru gojo x reader

summary ⸺ an unexpected tutoring session with your bully satoru gojo leads to somewhere...unexpected

warnings ⸺ SMUT (MDNI), fluff, slight angst, college au, porn with really mid plot, bullying, humiliation, PANTY INSPECTION, p i v sex, unprotected sex, aftercare, creampie, he whimpers a lot but also degrades you a lot, gojo satoru king of dirty talk it might not make sense lolz, this is not edited in the slightest, didn't even do it a once over, implied that reader is a virgin but not really art by the goat 3-aem

a/n sorry for being so ia. will be answering asks after the ao3 author ahh events that went on this past week T-T as a result this is kind of mid, might delete later, based on this req

general masterlist

This could not be happening to you. NO, no, no. You must be dreaming, right?

Because Satoru Gojo was sitting right across from you in your math professor’s office, looking akin to a kicked puppy, ears drooping as your professor continued ranting about his late assignments, his efforts to cover his grades up, lost potential, laziness, how he should learn from you—but you were only dreading the aftermath of this conversation, when you were left alone with Gojo. 

Because he was your college bully.

It didn’t get as violent as in those Asian dramas, but you were often left humiliated from the nuisance he was. For example, take the instance when you both first met. 

Head deep in the textbooks you just bought, you were scanning the formulas in an effort to get ahead; after all, for someone like you—dependent on a scholarship to attend university—slacking off was not an option. Only for the nepo trust fund babies—which you were not. There, in the prestigious university you had fought tooth and nail to get into, you were at peace. 

But it all went out the window as someone moved to tap you on your shoulder, making you turn your head towards possibly the most handsomest boy you’ve ever seen but undeniably a spoiled kid. Because what came out of his words were definitely grounds for sexual harassment.

“Are Asian people your type? Because I’m China get in your japanties.”

If crickets could make their way into the study room you were sitting in, their chirps would be LOUD. You blinked, heat creeping up your face as he leaned closer to your face, eyes flirtingly honing in on yours and your lips. Abruptly—-flustered—you stood up, gathering your belongings and apologizing profusely. “I”m so—sorry—I don’t—-you might be talking to the wrong per—” because there was no way in hell he was addressing you. From what you could see, he looked like a rich kid, the kind with a lot of money—something that could land you in trouble. You booked it the hell out of there, ignoring the confused look on his face and missing the disappointment flicker across it as he saw your retreating figure leave his sight.

And thus, your love story with Satoru Gojo—who you soon found out was the most popular boy on campus—started. 

Small encounters with Gojo kept plaguing your first semester. They would be chance encounters, where Gojo would catch your eye in the middle of a crowd and make his way towards you, a snarky grin creeping up his face as he cornered you into a hallway with less traffic. Sometimes even in a closet.

It wouldn’t be anything grave, to say. All he would ask is how your day was, all sweet nothings and cute smiles made to woo you. And they definitely did—but you couldn’t let it show, couldn’t let him woo you.

“What’s your next class, baby?” The both of you were in a janitor’s closet, him having cornered you in the room and locked  the door. You kept biting your lip nervously, the edge of it red and swollen as you peered at him somewhat nervously.

“Uh—I don’t know,” you whispered, darting your eyes somewhere on the floor, so he wouldn’t see the avoidant look on your face.

Let’s get the record straight: you weren’t scared of Gojo. Sure, at 6’ 3’’ with piercing, glow-in-the-dark sapphire eyes, he made you nervous, but you knew you could pine for him at best. Because god knows what would happen if you ever cross him or his dozens of fan girls, some with considerably more power than you on campus. Putting a target on your back while you were trying to graduate wasn’t one of your goals, but trying to pass your math classes with honors was.

And you hated the fact Gojo could read you like a book. Because in the cramped, dark space, his eyes were almost..soft as he put his forearm across the wall on top of your head, effectively caging you in as he steps toward you. You hug your big and heavy books closer to your chest, the squish of your breasts over your top not lost to Gojo who eyes them with lidded eyes. Then, they make their way to meet yours, and it’s like he can see the pining in your eyes. The fact that he’s a carrot dangled in front of your head, something you want but if you ran, you would never have him. A perpetual race to make him yours.

He smiles, gives a soft chuckle. “You don’t know?” he teases you and your blatant lie. “C’mon, let me walk you there.”

But you blurt out an immediate “No!” and then regret it, because hurt flashes across his face. “I mean–” you falter, “please don’t. You’ll be seen publicly with me.”

A quizzical look, one that is so innocent that it makes you want to cry, because how could Gojo ever understand your problems? “What’s the problem?” And then he pouts. “You embarrassed of me?”

“No–no—” you shake your head, squirming slightly from where you were both standing. “It won’t be good for you, for me.” Then, you swallowed, waiting and screening for his reaction.

Praying to whatever gods that were listening to you that he would understand, it seemed that they were answered because an emotion you couldn’t place etched its way on his face until he nodded. A resolute one, yet something that made you a bit…uneasy was in his eyes. Because it meant nothing but trouble.

Then on went your days. Seven days, in fact, because it only took a week for you to be walking across the hallway, daydreaming about a boy without a face cuddling you in the winter, eating cookies in Christmas. You hated being single and hated the fact you were confined to your academic responsibilities; quickly, your professors caught onto your potential, assigning you to tutor your peers during recitations. You preened at the attention and validation but felt lonely because it occupied all your time to catch up on others’ expectations. In your rumination of your upcoming responsibilities, you didn’t notice the hand shoot out and firmly grab your arm until you were in a janitor’s closet. Yet again.

Shocked, you resisted the unknown person who had led you in here, instincts flaring up until said person turned on the light. 

Gojo.

“Gojo, what are you—” You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence, as Gojo had covered your mouth with his arm, one to avoid causing too much commotion before you were discovered there.

“You said no one could see us, right?” A mischievous—yet yearning—look flashed across his face and it was then you realized his play. “So this is okay?”

No, this stubborn man wasn’t going to let you go—he was going to torment you. In secret.

The only response you could conjure your brain was a whimper because a tentative hand was creeping its way up your thigh, softy caressing the insides of it. All you could feel was pleasure and how it was so right despite it being so wrong that Satoru Gojo, the campus sweetheart, had cornered you into the janitor’s closet to give you the most dizzying touches, some you couldn’t deny.

So when he moved his other hand that was at your mouth to grab at your pink skirt, he lifted the hem with both his hands and then paused. Looked at you with darkened eyes. “Let me do this.”

You could only close your eyes in your flustered state, pinching them shut as you gave him a slight nod. It only took him a millisecond to move, using both of his hands to uncover what was between your thighs, eyes focused and widening as he inspected your panties.

“Pink with hearts, huh?” You could hear the chuckle in his voice, the cockiness basically oozing out and you could only continue to heat up deeper. “I like it, baby.” Jumping as you felt his hands roam and trace the edges of your panties, he hooked his finger in the crotch, your thighs tightening slightly as his index just oh so grazed your bare folds as he pulled and pulled, until he let go of the tension and it snapped back in its place. “Look at me.”

As per his instruction, you opened your eyes, only to be taken aback by the intensity in his. Then, his lips moved. “Be my girlfriend.”

The moment broke as clarity hit you. This shouldn’t have happened. “I’m sorry, Gojo, but—”

“Don’t call me that,” he groaned, stepping back and raking an arm through his hair. “What’s even your problem? Did I do something wrong?”

Incredulous, you utter out a “Something wro—you don’t think you did something wrong?”

He looked at you for a bit, made to say something, but you cut him off. “You know what Gojo? Get this through your head. We can’t do this. I don’t know how many girls fall for this, but I can’t. I’m sorry.” With that, you made to move, but he quickly reached out, pleading for you to stay. You wrenched his hand out of your grip and said, in the most serious voice you could muster, “Don’t ever talk to me again.” And you walked out, pretending you weren’t scared of what would happen after you retaliated against the Satoru Gojo.

Surprising, all went well for the rest of the semester. You did get some whispers and stares because of the stray rumor or two passing around about you and the mysterious instances when the campus king stared at your figure for a flicker too long. But it wasn’t nothing but passing because you didn’t share any classes with Gojo, and he respected your wishes. You didn’t miss the bitterness in his stare when you passed by his friend group in the hallway, speeding up to shake off the weight of his eyes on you.

So, you were at peace. Until second semester’s Calc III.

You soon realize that with gradients and vectors comes an additional burden, one specifically sporting white hair. Because as you’re pulled into your math professor’s office and see him, you oh so desperately want to book it. 

“And this, Satoru,” your professor pauses and looks at him sternly while gesturing towards you, “is your ticket out of failing. Miss Y/N here,” he gives you a comforting smile, one that does nothing to ease the stiffness flooding your body at the thought of Gojo right next to you, “has the highest grade in the class. She’s a seasoned teaching assistant too, helping a lot of people in her classes next year.” You silently curse, your smile growing more strained as you realize Gojo’s looking at you. “I trust that you’ll be in good care.”

Once the professor finally dismissed you both, you braced yourself, shoving your notebook back into your bag with far more force than necessary. The prospect of *actually* tutoring Satoru Gojo—the one person who seemed hell-bent on making college a gauntlet for you—was absurd.

You didn't look up as you pushed past him, but Gojo kept pace, following you out of the office and down the hall with that easy, unbothered stride of his. "So," he drawled, “how's this tutoring thing going to work? Are you coming to my place, or am I coming to yours?”

You stopped, turning to face him. "My place," you said firmly. The thought of seeing him lounging in some flashy, high-end apartment was insufferable. Besides, at least in your dorm, you could set some ground rules.

He blinked, looking surprised. "Your place? Bold move, Miss Perfect," he teased, that trademark smirk flickering onto his face. “Didn’t think you’d be so eager to have me over.”

"Trust me, Gojo, I'm only doing this because I have to. And there will be rules," you said, crossing your arms. "No messing around, no games—just math."

“*Just math,*" he repeated, his tone playful as his eyes glinted with mischief. “Got it.”

You swallowed, hoping he meant it. "Fine," you said briskly. "I’ll see you tomorrow at six. Don’t be late."

“Oh, wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, and with a little salute, he strolled off, leaving you with a sense of impending doom.

The knock came precisely at six.

You opened the door, and there stood Satoru Gojo, surprisingly punctual, hands shoved into his pockets and a playful grin on his face. You gestured to the small study area you’d set up by your desk, filled with neatly organized notes and textbooks.

“Take a seat,” you said shortly. “We’ll start with the basics.”

He slid into the chair, his gaze flitting from the textbooks to you, an amused glint in his eye. “You weren’t kidding about tutoring. You’re all set up like a professional.”

You ignored the remark and opened the textbook to the chapter on derivatives. “Alright. Let’s go through this. If you understand derivatives, the rest of Calc III will start making sense.”

For a while, he seemed to actually pay attention. He followed along, asking a few questions, which you answered as patiently as possible. But as the explanations went on, his attention started to drift. After one too many halfhearted nods, you frowned, putting your pencil down.

“You’re not even trying, are you?”

He leaned back in his chair, that smirk resurfacing. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to spend time with you.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting off the blush creeping up your cheeks. “You needed my help. I didn’t force you to come here. If you don’t want to do this, then—”

He held up a hand, the teasing gone from his face. “Alright, alright. I’ll focus.” He paused, then added, “In fact, to show you I mean it, I’ll do you a favor. Whatever you want. My way of saying thanks.”

You eyed him warily. “A favor?”

“Anything,” he said, leaning in with a grin that spelled trouble. “What’ll it be? An escort to class? Carrying your books around? Name it.”

 “I’ll let you know when I think of something.” You’re dismissive, knowing he’s not that serious about this, playful about this like he is everything else. 

He chuckled, nodding. “Looking forward to it.”

And with that, he finally settled into his chair, this time with genuine focus, leaving you both in the kind of quiet that held a new, unspoken promise—a favor, an IOU hanging in the air between you.

You don’t know how you ended up under Gojo on your bed. 

Satoru sat close—closer than you’d expected. His knee brushed yours as he leaned forward to study your notes, and every few minutes, his arm would brush against your hand as he reached for the pencil you were using to write equations. Each little touch sent a jolt through you, and judging by the lingering glances he kept giving you, he didn’t mind it either.

“Okay, so the derivative here is...?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you pointed at the next problem.

Satoru leaned even closer, squinting at your notebook. “I think I get it,” he murmured, his face inches from yours, his breath warm as it brushed your cheek. But instead of looking at the math, his eyes flicked to yours, lingering just a second too long.

Your heart hammered as you forced yourself to focus. “Right. So you should get… uh… that answer,” you managed, feeling his gaze still trained on you.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, not breaking eye contact. His hand shifted on the table, the back of his fingers grazing yours.

You didn’t move. Neither did he. Your fingers stayed where they were, brushing against each other, the soft, deliberate touch making the silence between you feel louder. Finally, you broke the tension by clearing your throat, quickly pulling your hand away to grab a different textbook.

“So—um, yeah, you’re almost there,” you stammered. “But you missed a step here.” You pointed to another section, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight shake in your voice.

He noticed, of course. You could see his smirk in the corner of your eye.

“Is that all I missed?” he asked, leaning so close that his shoulder pressed against yours. His voice was lower now, more intimate.

You nodded, trying to focus on the page but finding it impossible with him so close. “Yeah. Just… that,” you said softly.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice dropping even more as he shifted his hand, his knuckles brushing against your knee now. It wasn’t intentional—at least, you thought it wasn’t—but neither of you moved. You felt frozen, caught in a quiet, charged moment, where all you could hear was your own heartbeat.

You swallowed, forcing your gaze back to the problem on the page. “Maybe, um… maybe we should take a break?” you suggested, needing a second to breathe.

He tilted his head, an amused, knowing, intense glint in his eye. “A break sounds nice.” 

Your breath caught as he looked at you like that, his hand still warm where it lingered just a little too close. And in that brief moment, you wondered just what kind of favor you’d end up asking of him—or what he might ask of you in return.

And it seemed like he knew what you were thinking. “Hey,” he said oh so breathlessly, in the way that made you want to throw yourself at him yet simultaneously bludgeon his head in, “wanna fuck?”

You reeled back, incredulous, but he quickly grabbed your head with both his hands, gently drawing you in. “What?”  

“I mean,” and he giggled, “what better use of a favor for than me to rid you of your virginity?”

You gasp, struggling in his hold to no avail. “Why would you assume I’m a virgin? I have plenty of experience, thank you very much—”

All the man does is snigger, despite your glare at him and looks at you, peering at you through his eyelashes with an oh-so-adoring smile. “It was clear how much you soaked through your panties that last time you’re a virgin, baby.” And you can’t help but whimper, reduced to a melting mess because of his sweet words. 

He laughs meanly. “If you’re not a virgin, you better not be soaked right now, baby. I’m kind of excited to see what panties you’re wearing this time” He moves his hand between your thighs, and you pliantly spread your legs for him, clenching as his hands rove over your panties in between your skirt. And he’s right, because it’s almost like you’ve wet your panties with the way your slick was flooding out of you because of your proximity with Satoru. “Look at that,” he coos and he pulls his hand away, much to your dismay, to examine his fingers. They glisten vulgarly in the fairy lights in your dorm, and Satoru turns his head to look at you. “So you gonna let me fuck you?”

And that, dear reader, is how you find yourself face down in your plushies on your dorm room bed, clutching them for dear life as Satoru spews dirty talk as if he was born doing it. “Satoru, faster!” you sob, having gone past the initial discomfort of having something in your pussy. 

“Satoru, faster,” he mocks you, grabbing your hips and drilling into your heat, groaning at how you’re just so tight. The tears flowing down your face make you even more beautiful as you succumb to your pleasure, one that no one other than Satoru has ever made you feel. “Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to fuck you?” You don’t answer past your moaning, and that annoys the fuck out of Gojo. He slaps your ass consecutively and can’t help but be more aroused looking at the red handprints he leaves. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” you moaned, anything to stop his assault on your ass, “I wanted this is sooo bad.” At that—rather than being satiated—Satoru sped up, hitting your spot with the accuracy of a sharpshooter.

“Yea, baby?” He laughs, meanly, leaning down to grab you by the chin, forcing you to look at him. His fingers squished your cheeks, thereby pursuing your lips as he tried not to cum from the sight of your eyes rolling back with each stroke into you. From the way you were clenching and pulsing more regularly around him, he could tell you were close. “Gonna cum?”

You whined, nodding while sobbing into his hands, trying to focus on the feeling of orgasming. It was so close, you could feel it coiling in your belly—

Just for him to rip out of your cavern, leaving you in shambles due to the emptiness you were feeling. “What—”

He tutted, his hand now slowly stroking his cock while he was sitting on his knees, looking down at you. “I’m only letting you come if you agree to be my girlfriend.”

“Gojo, what—”

“It’s Satoru,” his eyes flared, looking at you with an intensity you hadn’t noticed before. “And say it. Say you’ll be mine.”

For a moment, you searched his eyes for any signs. Signs of insincerity, of humor. But all you could find was desperation and yearning. Ever since you kept having your chance encounters with Gojo, you couldn’t help but deny the fluttering in your heart; the way his eyes unconsciously looked for you, a mere stranger he had taken interest in, in every crowd made you feel seen in a world where you were otherwise invisible.

And you couldn’t help but want to continue being in that world, in his world.

“Fine,” you whispered. “I’ll be your girlfr—”

Before you could finish, he smashed his lips into yours, joining them in a messy, wet embrace. His tongue explored your mouth in a way that made you leak even more while he aggressively laid back down on the mattress, effortlessly lifting you onto his crotch and onto his dick. As he thrusted into you, desperately, he couldn’t help but continue blabbing sweet nothings.

“I’ll treat you so well—haah—take you out on dates,” he heaved, eyes watering as he thrusted slowly into you in long, deep strokes. His eyes never left you as he made love to you, his face going up to nuzzle in between your breasts, peering at you through lidded eyes lovingly. “Fuck you well every night, show you off to the world.”

You could only sob Satoru as you looked at his face through your tears, him doing all the talking for you. “Every day,” he groaned, his cock pulsing and twitching in your walls, “I’ll love you like you’re my wife and fuck you like you’re my slut. So—” and he took a sharp intake of breath, one that you could interpret as him getting close with the way his hips were continually getting more and more sloppy, “so proud of you, baby. Gonna take care of you.” Then, he meets his eyes with yours as he starts to speed up, hand moving to gently rub at your clit in circles, with such prowess that you know you’re not going to last long. “Pull you—haah—pull you aside and see what panties you wore for me that day. Coming inside—coming inside and making you walk around with my cum leakin’ out of your panties.”

And then he whimpers as he loses control. “Gonna—” he utters in between short breaths, “gonna come baby. Come with me.”

“I will, Satoru,” you whine. “Please, I wanna—I wanna kiss!” That’s when Satoru can’t hold himself back anymore, his cum shooting in ropes inside of you at the innocent gesture you wanted him to do while he was doing such filthy things to you. You come alongside with him, everything so overwhelming as you ride out your orgasm on top of him. 

As you’re both settling down from your orgasm, he pulls you off—the both of you wincing at the sudden emptiness—as he lays you down next to him. Without a word, he nuzzles in between your breasts, giving a content sigh as he literally melts like a cat, relaxed in your embrace. You can’t help but giggle at his antics, and he takes his face out of your cleavage to give you a boyish grin. “What’re you laughing at?” “Nothing,” you shake your head. “Just the fact I’m chained to you now.”

“Hey!” he pouts, moving his arms so he’s embracing you tightly, effectively trapping you in. “Say that again and I’m going to sleep on top of you and never leave.”

“Can’t believe I’m chained to y—”

Satoru plops on top of you, making a show of tickling your ribs and stomach as you gasp and laugh in surprise. “Satoru!” He doesn’t relent, until you feel a familiar liquid ooze and leak out of your pussy.

This time, your shriek of Satoru’s name doesn’t go unnoticed. At the murderous look on your face–as well as the sheer messiness in between your thighs—he gets up. Smiles sweetly. “Should just leave you like this, leaking my cum. It’s only fair for how you ignored me!”

At that, he gets a pillow to his face, reminiscent of a kicked puppy as he trudges to your bathroom to clean you up. 

general masterlist

comment and reblog your thots! <3

[lyjen]

Drowning

Summary: Evan’s wife is an Elementary school teacher, but when a shooter enters the school and starts shooting at teachers, (Y/n) is the first person to help. Evan gets worried as his wife doesn’t pick up her phone, but as soon as the shooting reaches the news Evan is desperate to find out where she is.

Request by: anonymous - The request

9-1-1 masterlist

Taglist: @oliviah-25 @shauna-carsley

______

“So I want you to both be thinking about it. Put those two brains together, I want you to solve it and be able to explain how you solved it” (Y/n) finished her math instruction. “I’m going to give you two minutes to try and solve this question, you’re ready?” Her voice sounded through the classroom as she clicked on start on the timer which was displayed on the screen.

(Y/n) was an elementary school teacher, she teaches the fifth grade to be specific. She has her own classroom, a teacher assistant intern, and a really good bond with her students. She loves her job, she really does. There’s nothing in the world she’d rather be doing than working with children. Her husband, on the other hand, loved being a firefighter. It was his life, and in his words: he wouldn’t know where he’d be if he never started the fire academy.

When one of the kids asked her if she had a boyfriend, she told them she was married to a firefighter. The students were so enthusiastic and full of questions, so she decided to take the kids to the firehouse one day, to teach them about firefighters, dispatch and everything Bobby had to tell.

“Okay, so some of you came up with an answer and a solution.” She speaks to the group as she holds up her hand, motioning to the kids who were ready to throw their answer to her head, to hold up their hands. “Do we have a volunteer to tell us what answer they got and how they got it?” multiple hands had gone up into the air, but those hands quickly were put down when loud screams sounded through the hallways.

But it was the gunshot that went off after that which caught her attention the most. Her eyes shot towards her teacher assistant Katy, who was sitting at the desk grading some homework as she immediately dropped the pen. Katy’s eyes went wide when she realized what was happening while multiple gasps from the students filled the silence in the room.The gunshot sent a shiver down (Y/n)’s whole body, as she remembered the three words: Run, hide, fight.

That was the protocol. Run if you can, hide if you can not evacuate safely and fight if your life is in danger.

“Everyone. Hide underneath your desks” She said softly as she tried to stay as calm as she possibly could.

The students all get off their seats and follow their teachers instructions as Katy runs off to the windows and closes the blinds. Meanwhile (Y/n) gets the remote for the screen and quickly shuts it off and runs towards the lightswitch to turn it off.

“Katy, help me move this” she says as she tries to push a mid-high bookcase in front of the door to barricade it. Katy quickly moves towards (Y/n) and helps her move the cabinet, so no one would be able to get in or out of the classroom.

When the cabinet was on the right spot, (Y/n) made her way towards the kids to make sure they were okay.

“You’re okay, we’re going to be fine” (Y/n) whispered softly to one of the students who was having a breakdown. She took place on the ground and folded her legs over each other, and she rubbed her hands over the kid’s upper arm, as a sign that she was there. They were not alone.

She let her fingers wipe away the tears of the girl’s cheeks and tried to hush her. She didn’t want to draw any attention. The girl almost started hyperventilating because she was that scared. “Amelia I need you to take slow deep breaths” (Y/n) whispered almost inaudibly. The girl nodded her head as she tried to copy her teacher’s breathing pattern. “Good, through your nose and out through the mouth” (Y/n) complimented her.

Huddled up with some kids to her side, (Y/n) tried her best to calm down the kids who were having a hard time to deal with the situation. Students around her were silently crying, while they were comforting themselves and each other.

There was an ear deafening silence floating through the classroom. They could practically hear the clock on the wall, ticking after each minute that had gone by.

With every footstep she heard on the hallway outside of the classroom, (Y/n)’s heart would skip a beat. There could be children running for their lives, other teachers or the shooter choosing their next victim.

After minutes, maybe even an hour of sitting in silence, a high pitched yelp sounds through the walls of her classroom. But that scream gets cut off by a sudden gunshot. More gasps and sobs sound softly through the classroom. With wide eyes (Y/n) tries to focus on the sound of the hallway.

“No. No, what are you going to do?!” Katy’s voice whispered desperately as (Y/n) crouched down and made her way towards the door of her classroom. The assistant crawled her way towards (Y/n), who was down at the door. Looking through the little gap between the window of the door and the bookcase.

(Y/n) glances through the window and spots a fellow teacher, down on the ground while a puddle of blood is being created underneath her. “Don’t be a hero” Katy says as softly as she possibly could.

She turned her head at Katy, “She’s hurt and needs help, I can’t just leave her to..” she shrugged her shoulders, she couldn’t say die. Not with her kids around, not when they were already traumatized enough by the sounds “You know..” she continued as she shrugged her shoulders.

She couldn’t do nothing. That was not who she was.

“But the shooter is still out there.” Katy says as she desperately starts to look around her. “That’s why I need you to stay here and keep them safe” (Y/n) whispered as she pointed out at her class. Katy shook her head with a frightened look in her eyes “No.. I can’t do that” Katy sighed as she looked at the kids.

“It wasn’t a question Katy, stay here and keep them safe. Close the door behind me” She repeated one more time as she looked at her over the shoulder.

With both her hands she moved the bookcase on one end a little backwards so she was able to squeeze through the gap of the door. Her hand reached for the lever of the door, as she as silently as possible pulled the lever down and squeezed her body through the door. (Y/n) could hear the door close behind her.

Still crouching, she made her way towards her colleague and let her knees drop to the ground when she reached her. “You’re gonna be okay” she said, barely inaudible as she made eye contact with her. The teacher had lost a lot of blood, the puddle was becoming bigger with the second.

The female teacher had been shot in the chest. (Y/n) went with her first instinct, putting pressure on the wound. Without thinking, she pressed her bare hands onto the chest of the woman. The woman winced and hissed at the pain that was being pushed onto her gunshot wound. “I know it hurts, but you have to stay with me okay?” (Y/n) said as her eyes wandered from the wound to the woman’s eyes.

She was on the edge of passing out. (Y/n) could tell. The woman was blinking so fast, and she looked exhausted. “Shit” (Y/n) cursed as the eyes of the woman rolled to the back of her head. Quickly she pressed two fingers of her right hand into the skin of the neck to see if she had a pulse.

Her heart was still beating, which meant she just had to put pressure onto the wound. So the heart would have enough blood to pump around.

But then the feeling of a cold metal getting pressed onto her skin spreads a shiver down her entire body. Her mouth suddenly went dry and her heart was pounding in her chest, as if it was trying to break free from her chest.

(Y/n) was frozen in her position, hovering over the woman. Putting pressure to the wound which was still trying to bleed through the small gaps between her fingers..

“Let go” the sound of a low male voice said.

She swallowed, as she felt the metal being pushed, deeper into her skin. She slightly shook her head, “You don’t have to do this” she slowly said as she kept as still as possible. “I do, everyone in this building has to pay for what they did for me.”

A click sounded. He reloaded his gun. Just one click away from a bullet inside of her head.

“I get it.” her voice said as she felt her breathing become faster because of the adrenaline. “When they don’t see you. And no one is there to help.” She squeezed her eyes closed at the pressure of the gun that was being pushed into the side of her forehead.

“Shut. Up.” His voice hissed at (Y/n).

Tears were falling down her face as she tried to keep enough pressure on the wound of the woman. “Struggling every single day of your life, trying to find a reason to be here”

“I said shut up!” he yelled as he fired a warning shot into the concrete walls of the hallway.

She flinched at the sudden gunshot. But she didn’t stop. She didn’t give up. She needed to try, and enter his mind. Try to talk him out of it, or buy herself more time. “The bucket will fill itself with more and more water everyday. And one day, that bucket will overflow.” She tried to remain strong as her voice became more trembling by every word she spoke.

The man pushes the gun once again into her skin, the muzzle still a little warm because of the bullet that popped out a few seconds ago. A click sounds as he reloads another bullet. “And you’ll realize that you’ve been drowning.. and if there’s no one to reach out their hand...” she squeezed her eyes shut as she remained silent for a second and another tear escaped the corner of her eye.

Multiple gunshots sounded through the hallway of the school as the gun, which the shooter was holding against her head fell down to the ground together with the body of the shooter.

A gasp left her mouth as the bullets whooshed along her ears. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the body of the shooter lying behind her on his back. Lifeless.

Everything that was happening was moving in slow motion. When she looked in front of her she could see multiple swat soldiers entering the hallway with their guns pointed towards the man behind her.

“Suspect is down” one of the soldiers said into their radio’s as they made their way towards (Y/n) and the shooter.

With two paramedics following the soldiers, the paramedics kneeled down next to the female teacher which (Y/n) tried to save her life. The paramedics put down their medic bags beside them and zipped the bag open as they grabbed some gauze.

“You can let go now. We’ve got her.” the male paramedic said as he tried to get her attention by putting his hand onto her shoulder. (Y/n) was still in shock. How did she survive this? Why didn’t he just shoot her when he had the chance? Why listen to her words?

“Sorry” she said as she got back to earth. She slowly retreated her hands back to her own body as the paramedic quickly pressed the gauze down onto the wound. (Y/n) slightly flinched as she felt a hand curling around her bicep, pulling her up to her feet and escorting her down the hall to the open world. She let them. She was too shaken up to try and fight or ask questions.

______

“Hi this is (Y/n)’s phone, please leave a message after the tone!” Her voice sounded through the speaker of Evan’s phone as he ended the call before the tone could ring into his ear.

A sigh leaves Evan’s mouth as he continues to send her a text, asking her to call him back when she can.

Hen walks into the kitchen when a frown morphed onto her face. “Hey you okay?” She asked when she noticed Evan’s slightly worried face that was focussed on his phone.

Evan clicks on the send button as he slips his phone back into his pocket, and he curls his fingers around the glass of water he had made.

“I’m fine..” he sighs as he leans with his forearms onto the kitchen counter. “I have just tried to call (Y/n) multiple times but she doesn’t answer. Normally she would’ve called me back by now”

They called everyday, especially when Evan was on shift. She would call him after school had come to an end and all kids had left the classroom.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Evan laughed at himself as he shook his head. He sounded like he was going insane. As if he couldn’t live without her. But it was a routine, so when that routine gets interrupted, it feels weird.

Normally Evan was the one to not pick up, when he was on a call. But he always called her back when they were back at the firehouse. Sometimes it could take hours, but it could also be minutes. It depended on the call of course.

“No not at all.. I’m sure she will call you back, maybe she’s talking to a parent or she’s just busy.” Hen touches Evan’s upper arm as she tries to reassure him that his wife is okay.

“Yeah, you’re right..” Evan pushed himself off the kitchen counter, he grabbed his glass and walked towards the sofas. “Maybe I’m being a little bit paranoid, she’s fine..” Evan glances at Hen who gives him a nod and a pat on his shoulder.

“Turn the volume up” Eddie says as Chimney grabs the remote and quickly turns up the volume by pressing down on the button.

“We just confirmed that about two hours ago, there has been a school shooting here in Los Angeles. The remarkable thing is that the school where this happened, was an elementary school”

“Jesus” Eddie sighs.

“The police have confirmed that after about an hour and a half after the shooter had fired the first bullet, they shot down the shooter. The name of the school where this happened is the Great Oak Elementary School. Parents are arriving at the school now to pick up their kids. There’s one wounded teacher and two casualties, both were working at the school.”

“That’s horrible. Imagine you see this on the news and you have to pick up your traumatized child.” Hen says as she continues to listen to the tv.

“Can’t imagine what that must feel like” Eddie’s voice sounds through the room.

Evan was intensely thinking. Why was that name so familiar? What was it about that school that made him think that he had a connection to it? He didn’t have any kids, at least not yet. “Wait what school did they say?” Evan double checked the name with his team, to see if he heard them correctly.

“I think it was Great Oak Elementary School” Chimney says as he focuses again onto the television screen.

Evan’s heart dropped in his chest. As soon as he heard that name fall off the lips of his colleague's mouth, it felt like all of the air he had in his lungs was getting pushed out. Everything's coming together now.

It was the school his wife worked for.

“But why even an elementary school, not that any school would’ve been any better or different. But we’re talking about ages 5 to 10 years old. Those children are going to be scarred for life” Eddie’s dull voice sounded over the loft into Evan’s ears.

No texts, no calls, nothing.

Evan’s hearing is dull, everything is still continuing on the back of his mind but his brain is working over hours now. Making up all different kinds of scenarios of what could’ve happened in that school. “Wow Buck, you alright?” Another dull voice rang through his ears.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, he flinched at the sudden touch and his eyes connected with Hen’s as he turned his head towards her. A frightened look was spread over his face as he tried to control his breathing.

He looked down to his feet, which were suddenly wet and cold. He realizes he had dropped his glass of water down to the ground. His boots are now soaking wet, with the water dripping down his pipes. But that was the last thing he was worried about right now.

His brain filled with all different kinds of scenarios were running through his mind. “(Y/n)” he mumbled through his panicked breaths as he tried to look at Hen, who was still pressing her hand onto his shoulder while her other hand was curled around his upper arm.

“Oh no..” Hen said as he puzzled the pieces together. Finally realizing what was happening and what Evan meant.

Bobby’s voice sounded through the space as he stepped onto the loft “What’s happening?”

“There has been a school shooting at Great Oaks Elementary. The school where Buck’s wife works” Hen quickly explained to Bobby as she held her grip onto Evan’s upper arm.

Evan’s eyes that were full of worry wandered towards his captain's eyes who was coming closer towards him every second. “She isn’t answering any of my calls or texts. And I’m not waiting for the hospital to call me and tell me that she’s..” Evan sighs at the worst case scenario that was in his mind.

“Please Bobby. I need to go. I need to see for myself if she’s okay.” Evan’s broken voice sounded.

“Look Buck, I get it. But you don’t have to do this on your own. We’re coming with you, whether you like it or not. (Y/n) is our family too.” Bobby says as he softly squeezed Evan’s shoulder. A small smile spread across Evan’s face as those words left Bobby’s mouth.

“Let’s go and find (Y/n)” Bobby says as he patted his hand onto Evan’s shoulder as a sign to go.

-

“What do you mean she isn’t here?” Evan says after Athena finished her conclusion. “I just told you, every teacher that was here on school grounds during the shooting has been checked by paramedics, and are now sitting in a room. They’re getting the information they need if they want help. But I’ve seen every teacher in that room, and she wasn’t there Buck, only her teaching assistant Katy.” Athena continues her explanation.

“Well, have you asked Katy if she knows anything about the whereabouts of my wife?” Evan asks, maybe a little annoyed. “No, not yet. I’m waiting for the professionals to finish their job. And after that, I’ll see if Katy is willing to talk” She calmly answers Evan’s question.

“How long is that gonna take?” Evan sighs as he puts his hands on his hips. He’s losing his patience. This is taking too long. “I’m sure they’re almost done, this should only take a few more minutes” Athena reassured him.

“I don’t have time for this.. what if Katy doesn’t know where she is? This might lead to a dead end.” Evan tries to stop himself from panicking, as he rushes a hand through his short curly hair. He had to do something. He couldn’t just stand there and wait on a teaching assistant who maybe doesn't have an answer to their questions.

Evan quickly turned around and slid his phone out of his pocket. He had to try it, at least one more time. He clicks on the green icon and clicks on her name, impatiently he presses the phone against his ear. Maybe she did have it with her.. right?

“Buck..” Evan could hear Bobby sigh as he was walking away from his team.

Evan listens to the sound of the phone beeping, trying to connect with the other phone. He was pacing through one of the hallways, silently listening to the beeps of the phone. Evan’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he could hear a ringtone going off from a distance. Was that someone else’s phone or was that the phone he was trying to reach?

The ringtone stopped playing when Evan was being sent to voicemail. He quickly presses the red button, and decides to try and call the phone again.

Once more the same ringtone sounds through the hallway.

Evan follows the sound, making his way through the hallways until after multiple times of calling her phone, he reaches the door of a classroom. The tone sounded loudly through the space of the room.

Evan stepped into the classroom and walked towards the desk where the phone was buzzing. “There you are..” Evan whispered to himself as he grabbed the phone and frowned at the idea of his wife leaving her phone behind. She never leaves her phone behind.

He shoved his own phone into his pocket as he made his way back towards his team who were now talking with a young woman, probably Katy.

“Can we please ask you a few questions?” Evan could hear Athena ask the TA, who nodded at her question. “When was the last time you saw (Y/n)?” Athena continued to ask her. “During the shooting, we were all hiding inside the classroom just like protocol said. And she told me to watch the kids.. she went to help the lady who was shot outside of our classroom. I heard multiple gunshots, when I was alone with the kids. But I haven’t seen her since she told me to watch them.” Katy explains.

Evan could feel his knees trembling, like they were suddenly turning into Jell-o.

“That’s everything I know” Katy says as she shrugs her shoulders. “It’s okay, thank you Katy. If something pops into your mind, give me a call” Athena says as she gives Katy her card with her contact details and Katy walks away.

“Alright, there’s two things we can do. One, we go to the hospital and check if she may be in the ER. Or two, we go check the..-” Athena gets cut off by Evan’s voice.

“Morgue” Evan finished Athena’s sentence and shook his head. “We’re going to the ER of the nearest hospital, she’s not dead. She can’t be.” Evan continued. “Buck.” Bobby’s voice spoke up when Evan wiped his hand against his forehead, as if it helped him to get rid of the thought of his wife being dead. “I refuse to believe that she’s dead, I want to go to the hospital” Evan states as he could hear his own voice trembling.

Evan felt Bobby’s hand landing onto his shoulder. “It’s your decision to make Buck, if you want to go to the hospital, we go to the hospital” Bobby said as he looked into Evan’s eyes again. Evan nodded. He made his decision.

The drive towards the nearest hospital was silent, but when the truck pulled to a stop Evan’s hand reached for the door and he jumped out as fast as he could.

He had waited long enough. He needed his answers now.

Before the rest of his team got out of the truck, Evan had already gone through the glass doors. Evan came to a stop at the nurse station, using his hands as a brake by pressing it against the desk.

“Hi, I’m looking for (Y/n) Buckley” he panted as he focussed on the nurse who was scrolling through the documents of people who had gotten in.

“Evan?” her familiar voice sounds through his ears. His eyes went wide as he heard that voice he had hoped to hear through the phone the first time he called her. He pushed himself off the desk he was leaning on and followed her voice.

“(Y/n)?” he softly said as he looked around him. When his eyes connected with hers, his heart skipped a beat. She was alive. Just like he said.

“Evan” she sighed as she finally saw her husband's face. Evan basically sprinted towards (Y/n) as he heard her broken voice say his name. Her knees were trembling, and were on the edge of giving in. “Hey! Hey! I’m here!” Evan panted as he curled his arms around his wife and she collapsed into his arms.

She was sobbing as soon as she felt his arms curled around her body and she tightened her grip around his body, like he was the only thing to keep her from drowning. He was the hand she had to hold onto. “I’m here” Evan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding this entire time.

He let his hand cup the back of her head and he pressed his lips against her hair.

He slowly pulled back, but his arms remained around her body. He wasn’t letting her go. The hand he had pressed against the back of her head, wandered to her cheek as he wiped away her tears.

“W-what are you doing here? Are you hurt?” he stumbled as he quickly checked her on any wounds. She shook her head as she placed both of her hands down onto his chest. “No, I’m okay” she gasped through her tears.

When Evan’s eyes fell onto her hands, which were now placed on his chest, he noticed her hands which were still covered in dried blood.

He placed his hands over hers as he softly grabbed her hand and started inspecting it. “It isn’t mine” she sighed as she tried to reconnect her eyes with Evan’s, who was focussed on making sure his wife wasn’t hurt.

“Then whose blood is that?” Evan’s voice asked, concerned when his eyes remained on her hands. “T-the woman who had been shot..” she said as she tried to catch her breath. Evan’s eyes furrowed “I helped her..” in the middle of her sentence, she stopped talking. “I kept her alive, even with a gun pointed at my head” she continued.

She could hear the gunshots going off in the back of her mind, the explanation she had just given her husband brought her right back to that place. So much has happened in those few minutes, she barely had time to process everything that happened in such a short time.

Tears were streaming down her face as she was reminded of the incident. “He wanted to shoot me in the head”

“Oh baby..” a loud sigh left his lips as he pressed a kiss onto her forehead. “You did so good” he mumbled against her forehead as he pressed another kiss onto it and pulled his wife back into an embrace.

“I was so scared Evan, I really thought this is it.. that everything I did, was for the last time” (Y/n) sobbed as she locked her arms around his body once again and her head pressed against his broad chest. “But you fought like hell, like I knew you would. You fought for that woman, for the students, yourself and me. You fought your way back to me.” Evan said as he pulled away a little, so her head wouldn’t be touching his chest anymore and he could place both his hands onto her cheeks.

“You’re so much stronger than you think you are.”

______

A gasp fell off (Y/n)’s lips as a gunshot roared through the back of her mind. Her eyes were suddenly wide open and her entire body was drenched in sweat. She let her hands fall against her face as she sighed. It was just another dream, a nightmare to be more specific.

It had been weeks since the shooting on the Great Oak Elementary School, but what happened that day, was still haunting her until today.

Falling asleep was a problem at first, the first nights after the incident, she was all wrapped around Evan. Trying to get her to sleep like she was a baby that couldn’t find the right spot to sleep on.

Evan worked twenty four hour shifts, he couldn’t just go home in the middle of shift, in the middle of the night to help his wife to fall asleep at night. So sometimes, (Y/n) wouldn’t sleep at all at night, she would just wait until he came home and the second Evan was home she would doze off.

But now, it’s the constant nightmares she had. Every dream she had wasn’t the same, it’s not like she had the same nightmare over and over again on loop. No, she was having different kinds of scenario’s everytime she closed her eyes.

She let her hands fall down onto the mattress as she glanced at Evan who was peacefully asleep on his side of the bed. (Y/n) threw off the blanket and swung her feet over the side of the bed and grasped the first hoodie she saw lying down on the floor. The hoodie was a little oversized and fell over her bum.

(Y/n) stepped down the stairs of the loft and flicked on the kettle to make some tea. Maybe that would help her calm down. With her back towards the living room, she pressed her elbows down onto the flat surface of the kitchen counter.

She was tired, but couldn’t sleep. Not if she was having these nightmares, everytime she closed her eyes. (Y/n) let her head rest between her hands as she closes her eyes for a second, just to try and let the stress exit her body while the water was boiling.

Evan groaned as he turned around in bed and let his arm find the body of his wife. When his arm connected with the jumpy mattress, he pushed his head off the pillow as a confused frown was spread across his face. He wasn't expecting his arm to find the mattress, he was waiting for his arm to connect with (Y/n)’s body.

He lets his arm swipe along the mattress again to make sure she wasn’t somewhere else on the mattress. Evan turns his body and reaches out to turn on the night lamp on his nightstand. He squeezed his eyes as he tried to adjust his eyes to the bright light on his nightstand and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

Evan swung his legs over the side of the bed as he stood up to make his way downstairs, determined to find his wife. When he silently stepped down the stairs, he smiled at the way she was standing. A Los Angeles Fire Department hoodie to keep her comfortable, her eyes closed as she was leaning on her hands. While the kettle was releasing steam as it was finished boiling.

A groan left her lips as she felt a hand curled around her hip and his chin was leaning on her shoulder. Her hand reached behind her as she tried to find Evan’s arm. “Can’t sleep?” his sleepy voice asked, with his eyes still closed as he was still trying to wake up.

“Yeah” she whispered as she nodded at his question, and she placed her other hand down on his cheek as he was still leaning with his chin onto her shoulder.

“Still having those nightmares huh?” He asked her as he pressed a kiss on the palm of her hand that was resting on his face.

“Yeah, what’s new..” she sighed, she had the feeling those nightmares weren’t going away anytime soon anyways. She grabbed a cup from the upper cabinet, placed it onto the counter and started to pour water from the kettle into it.

When the cup was full enough, she placed the kettle back. “Evan?” Her soft voice sounded raspy.

“Hmm?” Evan hummed as he slightly opened his eyes to check on his wife. His arm was still wrapped around her, curved around her hip. She swallowed loudly.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this..” she whispered as she placed both of her hands flat against the counter as she stared right in front of her.

Evan’s hand started to come loose from her hip, as he let his lower back fall against the kitchen island, which was placed on the other side of the kitchen counter (Y/n) was making her tea on.

He folded his arms over each other as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets. “You mean the nightmares, right?” Evan needed a confirmation that he knew she was talking about.

She felt Evan leaving her side. But she couldn’t look at him without breaking down. So she remained standing with her back towards Evan. “No.. I meant, being a teacher.” She said as she started to make circles with her finger onto the kitchen counter.

“What? What do you mean? You love being a teacher” Evan said as he tried to make eye contact again. But she wouldn’t turn around.

She shook her head as she sighed, trying to keep her tears from falling down. “That was before this all happened. You know how exhausting it is to be wary of every single thing around you?” she sniffled as she turned her face towards the ceiling, trying everything in her power to not show her tears, or show her fear.

With her sleeves falling over her hands, she wiped the small tears away that had started rolling down her cheeks. “Every time before I even enter the school my throat goes dry, I start sweating and I can’t stop myself from shaking” she tried to say through her tears and sobs.

She turned her body, and let herself slide against the kitchen doors, dropping to the ground as she cried even harder. “I’m sick and tired of flinching at every sudden sound I hear. I can’t sleep, because any time when I close my eyes, even if it’s just for one silly second, I’m there again. With a gun against my head.” she confessed.

(Y/n) let the back of her head lean against the kitchen cabinet as she felt Evan coming closer, while she looked at the ceiling again. Trying to get rid of the tears that showed her biggest fears and weaknesses. “I can’t do this anymore Evan” she sobbed as she pressed her palms against her face. All she wanted to do was hide.

It feels like she’s drowning, drowning into her own fear and tears. The fear is over taking her like waves of the ocean, if no one would reach out that hand to help her.. she might drown.

“No.. you’re scared. And I get your reaction, but we don’t always make the best decisions when we’re operating out of fear” Evan spoke up as he curled his arm around her knee.

A sigh leaves Evan’s mouth as he tries to think of the right thing to say. “I know how hard it is to get over something so traumatizing, that you don’t know what you’re doing it for no more” he said as he tightened his arm around her knee. “But what happened could have happened anywhere. At the grocery store, in our own home, hell even at the fire station” Evan continued as he tried to get her attention, but she was too emotional to make eye contact.

She could hear every word he said, every breath he took, every moment of silence he needed, to think of what he was going to say next.

“So I need you to stop saying that you can’t do this. Because I know you can. You’re one of the strongest women I know. And I’m so proud to call you my wife. But right now, I need you to grab my hand and trust me when I say that we’ll figure this out.” tears were starting to well in Evan’s eyes as he quickly wiped his finger underneath his eyes to get rid of the tears he felt, as they were about to roll over his cheeks.

Evan loosened his grip around her knee as he reached out his hand, with his palm faced towards the ceiling. “We do this together, just like we did all the times I got hurt and didn’t know what to do” Evan said as he lowered his head, trying to get her eyes connected with him again.

Silence took over the space they were in.

Evan’s hand was still dangling between her knees as he waited for her attention and answer. “Together?” he asked one more time.

A soft smile made its way onto her face, as she nodded. “Together.” she said determined and placed her hand onto his as Evan sent her a small smile her way.

She had helped him countless times, now it was his turn to help her.

[bigwishes]

Big's Perma Bulk!

(Community Requested Story, about me perma bulking) What's good bros! It's your favourite wish granting genie here to go on my own transformation journey. Normally I send this kind of thing off to another writer but a lot of you wanted me to be transformation using my own Genie gifts so I've waved my hands and started it off.

I made sure to completely forget about what you guys wanted for me to make it even more surprising but considering all you lot drool at a bicep vein I think I'm in good hands.

After waking up I definitely didn't have anything to worry about. I knew all of you just wanted me to become some big sweaty himbo. Just take a look.

Big arms, thick thighs and a solid chest. I won't lie if I were to make a choice I would of ended up so much bigger than this but hey, it's what you all wanted to I guess I gotta get used to being a himbo stud.

Woah...I guess day two was a little different. I'm a lot bigger ladz so cheers for that but damn, some of this definition is starting to fade. It looks like I'm sliding more to the tank side of the spectrum that the stud side. I'm pretty sure if I move wrong this tank is gonna split in too and my fucking stomach won't stop rumbling, every time I walk in my kitchen I down half a box of cereal, fuck, I should probably take a couple sandwiches back to my desk before I load up some games with the boys.

'BUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPP'

aw fuck, sorry about that ladz but damn. I woke up this morning and my stomach feels so tight, it feels like my abs are about to split in half. My shorts are so tight around my ass.

Damn what the fuck did you guys wish to happen to me? A slab of muscle instead of abs is one thing but fuck my gut is so bloated, ah man

'UURRRRRRRRRRPP!!!'

whoops, sorry dudes, fuck this is so tight but I still feel hungry, maybe a protein shake and a bowl of rice wont gut, surely this can't get any tighter.

ahhh fuck what time is it? 3am?? why the fuck am I so hungry. I didn't even know it was possible to feel hungry and bloated at the same-

BUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP

ah man, what do I have in the fridge, mmmmm half a pizza, well I'm sure a couple of slices won't hurt. I hit the gym pretty hard today, its probably my body wanting to fuel up. mmm yeah just 3 maybe 6 slices and I'll be good for the night, probably best to turn the light switch on so I don't make a mess...

w--what the fuck happened to me! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I'M SO FUCKING BULKY, OH FUCK

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPP

DAMN....fuck well....at least it doesn't jiggle, probably just bloated from how much I've been eating recently, who knew having such big muscles would make me so hungry all the time...

hmmm, I probably shouldn't leave just 3 slices of pizza in the fridge on their, own, that's not even a snack, 9 slices is alright at this time of night yeah?

On the bright side, my muscles have continued to blow up to freakish size, my bicep is bigger than most dude's heads. On the other hand....I can't shift this tank around my mid section. I've been trying to eat less to get my abs back but fuck I can't help it, my stomach growls and I gotta eat enough to feed at least 3 people or else it feels like my stomach is gonna eat itself. It's okay, Ill just cut when summer rolls around, use this time to grow as big as I can, bet my abs will look fucking insane in a few months/

Guess the bright side is I can order that nice chocolate cake with my pizza tonight...I'm pretty sure it's cheat night tonight, or was it last night? hmm, no yeah it is definitely tonight?

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP

ah fuck, wh- UUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP

what happened - uurp - to me?

a few *hic* days ago I was a lean mean lifting machine

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRPPPPPPPPP

and now...fuck *hic* uuurp- I'm a big, bulky brute

fuu-UUUUUUUURPPPP-ck, my gut is so tight, moving feels like a chore....I'm so fuckin stuffed and hungry at the same time. Who knew my fans would want me to blow up into a 300lsb bulky beast...

damn...I need a shower but, I could really go for a double cheese burger and a snickers protein thick shake, I'm sure it can wait -uuurrpp- maybe I should grab a couple protein bars for the road..

BUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPP!!!!

I can still feel the spell under my skin, I wonder how much bigger these guys will make me, or what else they'll do...

[karalovesallthegirls]

Kara has always dreaded the day she’d meet her soulmate. 

There’s relief in knowing she has one, of course. The person meant for her didn’t die with Krypton. That’s something! Even still, it’s hard to feel excited for the moment they meet, because that’s the moment Kara will hurt them. She’s had their exclamation of pain inked into her skin for as long as she’s been on Earth. In some ways it’s better. Most people have phrases like “good morning” or “hold the door please” as their soulmate’s first words. They have to endure hundreds of almosts, breath held just in case that stranger really is the one. Kara won’t have to do that. Her words are far too distinct.

It's agony, thinking about how their meeting will go. She spends years imagining every possible scenario, each one more painful than the last, yet the day it happens she barely even registers it. The words wash right over her, drowned out by the loud crack as her hand makes sudden contact with a stranger's face. The telltale crunch of contact shocks her. She hadn't registered anyone was there during her dramatic retelling, otherwise she would have kept her gestures small. She wouldn't have flung her hand out with such force.

The woman she's hit is hunched over, clutching at her face. She gasped loud and sharp when it hit, and now she's just wheezily breathing in shock. Kara can see blood starting to drip down her wrist.

“Did you," the woman gasps, and her voice sounds wet. "Did you just break my nose?” Kara wants to die.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I am so sorry!”

People are looking at them and the woman keeps cursing under her breath and Kara really, really doesn’t know what to do. Her hands hover uselessly over the hunched figure, desperate to soothe but scared to touch in a moment like this. “I didn’t mean to – I was telling a story and I got too excited with my hands I guess, I didn’t see you there. Are you- can I-”

She looks to Alex for guidance, but she’s just staring at the interaction with a wide-eyed wonder. Typically her sister knows what to do in a scary situation, but now she’s looking just as clueless. They’re both barely awake at this point – it’s six in the morning and they’ve been at this airport terminal since midnight, miserably watching their red eye flight push into a mid-day departure. They’re both half-delirious, which is fun when you’re goofing off but less so when you’ve just broken a stranger’s nose. 

And then it hits her. The words she’s carried on her arm for so many years are tingling, she realizes, and they’ve been tingling from the second her skin met the girl’s. 

Did you did you just break my nose?

“Oh wow,” Kara says, dumbfounded. “It’s you.” The woman falls silent. She must be realizing too Kara thinks as she fumbles with her sleeve, pushing it up enough to show her inked arm. The woman's eyes drop to the tattoo that's brought such shame to Kara for so long. She feels her eyes like a touch. “I – I’m so happy to meet you! I’m so sorry it happened like this.” She laughs and it sounds strained. Her hands are shaking. The woman doesn't look up from her arm.

Even hunched over in pain, it's clear the woman is beautiful. Important, even, considering how she's dressed. She's dressed like she's en route to lead a business conference, her tight black skirt and matching blazer scream business professional. Though the effects are tampered a bit by the splattering of blood that’s dripped down her white blouse. Kara wonders how old she is to be dressed like that. She must be older to look like that. At nearly nineteen, Kara has never had anything more than a graduation to dress nicely for, and even then she wore her stained dress pants. This woman - her soulmate - must be much older than her, which feels strange to think. She looks Kara's age, maybe even younger. If not for how clearly tailored to her body her clothes are, she'd almost look like she was playing dress up.

Kara feels self-conscious then, sharply aware of how she must look to her soulmate. As smart as it felt to come to the airport in pajamas for her all-night flight, standing in rubber duck pajama pants while trying to have a conversation with her goddess of a soulmate did little for Kara's confidence.

When Kara’s eyes finally track back up to her face, she finds sharp green ones staring back. They're the prettiest eyes she's ever seen, and they don't seem interested in looking away. That's fine with her - she's more than content to stare right back.

It's only the soft plop of blood hitting tile that draws her attention back to her crime, and she can see the way the woman's hands have become covered in blood. "Oh gosh, here - let me…”  Kara fumbles in her backpack for a moment with no clear plan. All she knows is she has to do something to fix this. She fumbles about before pulling out a clean t-shirt. “Here. For the-” She holds it out to the girl and gestures at her own face. Slowly, like she’s scared Kara might grab her or something, the woman takes the offered shirt. She wipes the blood from her face and hands, dabbing beneath her nose. The bleeding seems to have stopped, at least, and the shirt helps contain what's escaped. Watching a stranger wipe blood on her high school band t-shirt shouldn’t thrill Kara as much as it does, and yet.

Kara laughs again, the sound nervous and high-pitched, before taking a step towards her. Her soulmate’s eyes go wide, tracking her movements, and Kara's heart clenches when she steps away. The rapid race of her soulmate's heart beats into Kara's ear - she can literally hear her fear. She holds her hands up in surrender, stepping back to where she’d been before. The last thing she wants is for her to be afraid. “Does it hurt?” she asks, and her soulmate shakes her head no. “That’s good. That’s good. I- uh." She has nothing more to say, and her soulmate's certainly not contributing. Kara’s palms are sweating. She hasn’t sweat since she was thirteen, but one look from this person has her rubbing her hands on her pajama pants like a middle schooler at a dance.

The woman finishes wiping up and lets her arms fall, blessing Kara with her first real look at her face. Bloodied and skittish, she’s beautiful in a way Kara can hardly comprehend, in a way she could never imagine. Kara's pretty sure she's blushing now for some reason, and she has to flex her toes to be sure she’s still touching the ground. “My name’s Kara,” she says, and then gestures over her shoulder. “That’s my sister Alex. We’re flying home for winter break. Midvale - Midvale is home for us. Where- where are you flying to?”

The woman stares and stares, and Kara's starting to panic thinking she'd given her soulmate a head injury that's muted her somehow, when at last the woman speaks just barely above a whisper.

“Home,” she says. It feels like her heart might burst just from hearing that one stilted word. Kara wants to hear a thousand more, wants to hear nothing else for the rest of her life.

“That’s awesome. W-where’s home for you?” The woman's lip trembles as she opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again.

 “I’m sorry,” she says, and then throws the t-shirt at Kara’s face. 

Kara fumbles catching it, distracted by the shock and gross factor of having a blood-soaked shirt hurled at her face, and it takes her far too many precious seconds to realize her soulmate is gone. Bewildered, Kara looks around before just catching sight of her vanishing around the corner, high heels and racing heart clattering away. She looks at Alex. Alex waves at her, frantic. “Go!” Alex yells, and Kara takes off.

Pretending to be a human has never been harder than it is while chasing after her soulmate. Normal human pace - especially what's acceptable at an airport - is not fast enough for this, not when the woman has already gotten so far ahead. Kara must look ridiculous, bursting into sprints only to trip suddenly into a walk over and over again, her ears locked on to the thudding heartbeat and faint whispers of her soulmate mumbling, “crap crap crap crap,” ahead.

Kara’s thankful they’re in an airport, at least. Her soulmate can’t just run outside, and Kara is fine embracing the romcom trope of following her love onto the plane. Her soulmate stops moving ahead and Kara speeds up, nearly wiping out twice tripping over luggage and small children. Her heart is in her throat as she clears the corner her soulmate is behind and pushes her way into the door she's passed through. All the wind knocks out of her lungs then when she sees her again. The woman looks up at her in shock, as if she didn't think Kara would chase her. As if Kara would just let her go. With a visible gulp, her soulmate flees around a corner and disappears out of sight. Kara manages a single step forward before a body blocks her way, and she looks up to see a massive security guard staring down at her.

“Membership card, please.”

Kara tries to peer around him. He steps in her way, cutting her vision off. Her soulmate led her into some private place you can't just walk into, she realizes, glancing around at the sleek appearance and exclusive atmosphere. “I- uh, left my card in my other bag,” she says, gesturing back over her shoulder. She can hear her soulmate’s breathing and it's all she can focus on. She’s right there. Just out of sight. Kara is so close. “I’m afraid you need your card to enter the fly lounge,” he says sternly. He starts pushing gently at her, trying to nudge her back out of the sliding glass door she’s come in. Kara almost forgets to let him move her. “I- I’m sorry, someone I need to talk to just went in there and I-” She stops in the doorway, hand firm on the wall. She can hear the way the guard huffs against her solid pressure. She’s not acting very human right now and she knows it.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, ma’am," he says, pushing more forcefully against her. Forceful enough that she knows she has to move even as all her instincts war against it. “Can- can I buy a membership? Like a day pass or something?”

The guard looks over at the front desk, making eye contact with a woman who looks like she would rather watch Kara be flayed alive than allowed another step inside.

“A day membership is $189 plus tax,” she whines out in a nasally voice, tone making clear she already knows Kara won’t be affording that. Which is accurate. Kara barely has enough to buy a meal. 

Looks like her soulmate is rich, then.

The man nudges her back again and a flash of panic echoes through her chest. For a moment, she envisions herself throwing him out the open door, tossing aside anything or anyone that tries to keep her from her future. But she’s already scared her soulmate enough for one day, so she smiles with forced bashfulness and allows herself to be walked back out of the lounge.

The frosted glass door marked High Flyers Club Lounge shuts her out mockingly. But it’s fine! Eventually her soulmate’s flight time will be here and she’ll have no choice but to come out and face her. Kara just has to be patient. (Kara hates being patient.)

She takes a seat against the wall across from the lounge entrance. Her glasses rest low on her nose as she stares her soulmate, soaking in every inch of her as she paces in the luxurious lounge. Her heart is racing, she seems on the edge of a panic attack, and Kara wants desperately to be in there with her talking her down. But she can’t, so she’s left to watch – at least until the girl steps into the private restroom. She stops watching after that. Instead, she settles down to listen to the comforting beat of her soulmate’s heart, closer now than it’s ever been.

Her mind wanders as she waits, mentally reviewing every moment of their interaction. Considering where she failed, where she succeeded. Making lists about what to say to her next. She never got her name, for one thing, and she still doesn’t know where her home is. There’s so much for her to learn.

Her mental meandering is so consuming that it takes her a bit to realize the heartbeat has moved farther away. At first she thinks her soulmate is just moving around the club, but no- she’s moving away from the airport.  A quick glance through walls shows her that her soulmate isn’t in the club anymore. The heartbeat is elevating, she realizes, and Kara runs to the glass wall just in time to see the plane - small, private, with an apparent access point from within the lounge – take off. 

Horror and confusion overwhelm her, bringing tears to her eyes. This doesn't make sense. Why would she just leave without saying a word? Why would her soulmate do that? It's almost unbearable, the pain of it. She doesn’t know how long she stands there, face pressed to the glass, listening as the heartbeat grows quieter and quieter before vanishing all together.

Kara learns a lot about grief after that. 

She knew a lot already – far more than any one person should ever know – but that grief carried a different weight. The loss of her people wasn't a choice by them. They didn't want to die. The loss of her soulmate is its own beast, sharp and cruel in her heart, because this time the person she mourns chose to abandon her. Her soulmate chose to leave. She saw Kara that morning and decided that one look was enough, that Kara wasn't worth any more of her time. She left her there with nothing but a bloody t-shirt and a thousand questions. Kara never even learned her name.

She goes through the stages – she feels her anger burning out in her eyes, feels the sorrow take hold. She denies it, she bargains with everyone, anyone. She calls the Flyer’s Club, tries calling the FAA. She tracks flight logs and makes cold calls and still finds nothing at all. She writes about it on soulmate websites and Medium articles, casting a wide net so that someday when – if, her mind reminds her. if if if - her soulmate ever looks she’ll be able to find her.  

Time dulls the sharpness, though, and the years shift that rejected feeling into a more muted anger. Kara doesn't care about the love lost. She doesn't care if the person is her other half. All she cares about is the anger. Finding her feels more like a hunt than a quest for love – she’s got a lot to say to the other woman when they finally meet again. She just wants one more meeting, that’s all. Just enough time to tell her exactly where she can go. Kara doesn’t need a soulmate, after all. Her life is full of love and joy and adventure, and she doesn’t need another person to complete her. She graduates college with a degree in English, minor in Journalism – her attempts to track down her soulmate really ignite the journalistic bug in her, and with Clark’s constant encouragement it feels inevitable. She moves to a big city despite her small-town fears and she gets a job almost no one survives. Kara is thriving.

It almost shocks her, then, the way her heart trips over itself when she sees her again.

They’re watching the trial, her and Alex, and Alex is halfway through a lecture on how she’d always known Lex Luthor was evil by the way he wore his pants – (“Good guys don’t wear their pants that high, Kara, it’s common sense.”) – when Kara's nerves jolt like a lightning bolt has rushed through her. Her gasp is so sharp Alex screams almost in sympathy. 

“What? What is it?” Alex yells at her, looking around for some danger lurking nearby. Kara tumbles to the floor practically crawling to the television screen. Someone new has taken the stand, someone she'd recognize anywhere.

“Alex,” she says, jamming her finger against the somewhat grainy image projected on her television. “It's her.” “What!” “My soulmate!" Kara knows it like she knows herself, even after all this time. She looks different. Six years of struggle sit clear in her hard gaze, her mouth twisted into solemn resignation. She looks almost casual on the stand, sitting comfortably despite the eyes of the world on her. Like it's just a regular conversation. Like she’s not about to help send her brother to prison for life. “Lena Luthor, sister of the defendant” reads the helpful banner beneath her grim face. Even after everything, Kara is struck by her. She's breathtaking. Kara kind of hates her for it. “Hold on, that’s- you barely even saw her when you met! You don’t know for sure.” Alex sounds desperate, which is fair. The younger sister of the man who tried to kill Superman is certainly not an ideal soulmate for someone like Kara, but it doesn't matter. It's her. “I’m sure,” she says, and feels the truth of it deep in her bones.

A giggle hits her then that's so inappropriate for the moment it makes her feel crazy, but she can't help it. As Lena Luthor begins to explain the piles of evidence she’s gathered against her brother, Kara giggles away. She feels almost drunk on it, smug and satisfied. “Found you,” she says, almost like a taunt. She drags her finger over the screen, feeling the static of her ancient television biting back at her as she caresses Lena Luthor's face. The anger that’s long settled inside of her seems to reignite with every charged word Lena speaks against her brother, with every glance she makes at the camera. She can feel Alex’s nervous energy behind her but she doesn’t care. The politics of this, the implications - none of it matters to Kara. What matters is she has a name, and she has a general location. She's so close she can practically taste it. “See you soon, soulmate,” Kara whispers, and for a second it feels almost like Lena is staring right back.

[infictionalwonderland]

Hey, I hope you’re having a good day! I had an idea, Marvel cast flirting with y/n for x minutes?

. . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT!

Coming home from an extremely long and stressful day/week was unfortunately something very familiar to you—so familiar that you and your best friend (your not famous best friend who was your pilar through all the chaos fame brought) had created a little routine; she’d send you various videos and links to movies and online books she knew would relax and amuse you.

So, cuddled up in your bed with your pyjamas and your star lights on (a true child at heart, always) you opened up your chats with them and eagerly swiped to see that they’d sent.

‘Marvel Cast Flirting with Y/N Y/L/N For 10 Minutes Straight!’ was the video for tonight.

Immediately you cackled to yourself, hurriedly sending your best friend thanks in the form of ironic emojis and frantic proclamations of undying love, before loading up the (true to prior word) ten minute long video.

Surely this was an exaggeration.

The video began, large letters in a cute font appearing on the dark screen ‘the marvel cast all being in love flirting with y/n for ten minutes’. The quick ‘AS THEY SHOULD’ before the clips started playing made you giggle to yourself.

The first clip was from some years back, you were pretty sure this was a premiere for The Avengers, given how you looked and the quality—you were standing opposite on interview, smile on your face and dressed in a pretty outfit the same colour of your character’s aesthetic.

“How do you feel about your costume?”

Before you could even answer the interviews question, Scarlett intercepted your interview—hair in a short red bob and a smirking grin at her lips as she wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Well I know how we all feel about this ladies costume, it’s a beautiful piece that just makes the women wearing all the more beautiful. If that’s even possible.”

The edit quickly gave Scarlett beating heart eyes for you as she didn’t tear her eyes away from you for a second—making present time you laugh.

With that she kissed your cheek, leaving a red mark of her lipstick and walked away, dramatically winking in your direction.

The second clip was a blooper, from .. Captain America: Civil War, you thought. You were on Sebastian’s shoulders, thighs locked over his head—in character, as your character and his were mid fight.

He stumbled back over a table accidentally and you let out a startled yelp, hands flying to steady yourself in his long hair and one of his landing on your arse cheek to steady you as he steadied himself with the other.

“Is it bad that I’m loving this?”

“SEBA—“

“Cut!”

The third clip was you and Lizzie (Elizabeth Olsen) reacting fan tweets; Lizzie unrolled the piece of paper, her eyes lighting up as she giggled with a little smirk.

“Elizabeth. .” You wearily trailed off, looking at your friend.

“Sorry, sorry. Okay! This tweet says if i could just pretty BEEP please with the juiciest most mouthwatering cherry on top get a not kid friendly scene of Wanda and (Your Character) I could die peacefully, my wish fulfilled. I implore you marvel, listen to your dying fan.”

“That tweet had over fifty thousand likes as well.” A feminine voice added in from behind the camera, laughter in her tone.

You and Lizzie turned to each other at the same time, grinning.

“I mean the fan is dying babe. .”

“Right? We should totally make this happen, like, totally.” She gave you a cheeky once over, eyes appreciating all of you. “Because it was the fans wish, not mine, duh.” Lizzie added.

“Mhm.” You hummed with a smirk.

The fourth clip was a evidently some sort of ‘guess the body part’ game: a photo of what you were pretty sure was your bottom half was the picture currently used for guessing, in the picture you were leaned over in a pair of yoga pants and in your personal opinion, you looked good. Well, your arse looked good (amazing, otherworldly—you humbly added)

Lizzie was the first person to answer, the video showing each persons turn one by one and immediately she said, “that’s my girl. Y/N.” Then giggling she added, “now get my girls booty off the screen, I don’t need you all ogling her. We get enough of that, sometimes causes a strain on us. But we’ve remained strong together.”

Paul Rudd was next and he stared at the picture of you for a few solid seconds, “it’s Y/N.” He sheepishly admitted. He pointed an accusing finger dramatically towards the camera—“I only know this because of all the edits you guys make!”

“You don’t have to watch them.” The interviewer pointed out innocently; Paul pouted, grumbling.

Next was Anthony who instantly answered, “That’s Y/N right here!” He hyped you up, grinning. “Don’t even try and make it creepy, we do glutes together man, it’s why we’re the best asses in the cast. Up top!” Anthony exclaimed, holding his hand up towards the picture as if pretending to high five you or something—the interviewer timidly gave him a high five.

Sebastian was next as you (and everyone) watch his eyes flicker and grin that was more of a smirk spread across his cheeks, “that’s definitely y/n.” He assumed instantly. “Would’ve been able to tell you that blindfolded.”

“But—“

“I’d have just sensed her.” Sebastian giggled.

Chris Evans was next—a grin picked up on his face immediately, eyes trained on the photo of you and he ran a hand over his beard, lightly biting his lip (HEELLLOOO????)

“That’s Y/n.” Chris stated confidently, smirking lightly and the camera caught some of the team in line of sight exchange raised eyebrows.

The fifth clip was of Brie Larson who was being interviewed on some sort of premiere event again—presumably or her (marvellous) movie, Captain Marvel, smiling at the interviewer.

“Out of all of the people on the Marvel Cast, those who you’ve met, do you have a favourite out of them?” The interview questioned.

“I’m not really one for favourites but I would definitely say I’m closest to Y/n! She’s—she’s just so lovely and funny and she’s like a ray of sunshine, honestly. She’s been a great help in the filming process as well, she coached me through everything with so patience—I would’ve strangled me if I was her, but no, she just had that adorable smile on her face. She’s truly an amazing person and a better friend than I thought possible.” Brie answered enthusiastically with a soft smile.

“Awwww! We love to hear that—are any of the rumours about her true?”

Brie blinked, seeming taken aback for a brief moment— “Yes she does smell amazing, she’s always effortlessly beautiful, she’s unfailingly hilarious and yes no one in this world deserves her. But like. . if she’s open to it,” Brie paused, winking at the camera and making a call me sign with her hands and mouthing the words with a flirty grin.

The sixth clip was of you, Tom Holland, RDJ, Paul Bettany, Zoe Saldana and Pom Klementieff on Jimmy Kimmel, tasked with drawing your characters. The clip started just as you turned around the drawing of your character and well, it was actually surprisingly good in your own opinion—the audience immediately erupted into loud and obnoxious cheers.

“As great as that is, love, it still doenst capture the extent of your beauty.” Tom Holland, who was sat to your left, grinned cheekily at you and the audience practically shouted and hooted.

“Would anything ever?” Zoe shot back from your right side, twirling a lock of your hair affectionately and smiling as she leaned against you.

“I sincerely doubt that anything could.” RDJ piped up, giving you an unapologetic grin when you looked over at him with fond exasperation as the crowd was practically inconsolable in their glee and enthusiasm, shouting out your praises. “Give it up for sunshine, people. Our gorgeous ray of sunshine!”

“I—“

“They are quite right, Y/n.” Paul Bettany spoke over Jimmy who was obviously going to try and calm down his crowd.

The seventh clip started playing: it was a clip taken from Jacob Batalon’s story, clearly in a party setting—the video showed you and Zendaya in the centre of the dance floor, everyone around you clearly watching you both as you danced up against each other to the sounds of Yeah! by Usher.

“Mate I think your girls about to be stole.” The voice of Tom’s friend, Harrison, sounded from beside Jacob and presumably Tom himself and to empathise Harrison’s words, Jacob zoomed in on your faces, wide grins of ecstasy, and the way Zendaya was admiring you.

“Right in public as well, the scandal.” Jacob cackled.

The eighth clip was an interview of Chris Evans and McKenna Grace (you adored that little girl to pieces). The two of them were answering the ‘Webs Most Searched Question’s’ together.

“Who was.. Chris Evans, date at the Oscars?”

McKenna immediately ooed, smiling teasingly and Chris laughed from beside her.

“This is getting juicy!”

“Well, it was my mom one year and then my sister last year—“

“He wishes it was Y/n though.” The little girl laughed with a beaming smile on her lips and you, present time, arched a brow.

Chris bashfully chuckled with a smile and you swore you could see a genuine red hue on his cheeks, “I mean—it’s Y/n. Anyone would be happy to go with her.”

“I would be!” McKenna excitedly exclaimed as she grinned so sweetly you were now going to make sure you took this sweet child with you to the Oscar’s, Chris seemed to melt as well, recovering from his brief flustered moment.

The ninth clip was Sebastian and Anthony reading out their thirst tweets in a Buzzfeed interview, the clip started as Sebastian was pulling out a tweet from the large bucket.

He read it to himself and blushed faintly, Anthony’s eyebrows practically reaching his forehead as he tried to lean over and read it but Sebastian jokingly shoved him back.

“Oh for—That scene where (Your Character) chokes baby Bucky out with her thighs, his—his head all up in there; the shit I would give to be her, I would give my soul, my fridge, my moms purse, my dads golf clubs. Please, sir. Put your face between my legs like you did Y/n.”

By the end of the tweet, Sebastian had a deeply awkward and slightly perturbed look on his face and Anthony cackled at his side.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he was more than happy with it being Y/n, wouldn’t change it even for your dads golf clubs.” Anthony laughed.

“That’s. . I’m gonna have to decline that, um, respectfully.” Sebastian spoke in regards to the tweet, ignoring Anthony.

In turn, Anthony ignored Sebastian as well and just dramatically kept winking at the camera.

The tenth clip was Cobie Smulders, who was being interviewed on some sort of carpet event, smile on her face as she spoke to the interviewer before her.

“How does it feel knowing that the lesbian community, myself included, are firmly rooting for your character, Maria and Y/N’s character (Your Character) to end up together?”

Cobie’s smile turned genuinely delighted, “I love it—we love it. Y/n and I actually have made so many PowerPoints and presented them to the Russo brothers, but alas. I do really want to end up with her—oops, sorry, wait. I really want my character to end with hers. . would be the appropriate wording. But I’m all for inappropriate if Y/n wants.”

Cobie jokingly bit her lip at the camera and you, watching the video, could not contain your laughter as the interviewer practically burst out with excitement.

The eleventh clip was a blooper from your filming of the avengers—you were standing next to Chris Hemsworth who had an arm around your waist, holding you to him as in the scene his character, Thor, flies the both of you away. But Chris quickly tugged you in front of him and began tickling you mercilessly, hysterical giggles falling from your lips as the people around you laughed as well.

“Chris, HAVE MERCY!”

“Aw, but I enjoy hearing your laughter. It’s a very pretty sound.” Chris laughed to himself, finally stopping his attack and letting you slump against his, back to his front. “I particularly like this as well.” He smirked down at you.

“CHRI—“

In the twelfth clip, you and Tessa Thompson were reading out thirst tweets together: “The feminine urge to fall asleep cuddled into Y/n’s boobs is too real, pls come here mommy.” You read out, giggling all the while.

“The urge is so strong.” Tess commented, nodding her add as she sneakily glanced at your chest with a innocent smile.

“Come here, baby.” You joked, laughing as you opened your arms for her and she practically leaped into them, resting her head on your chest.

“I’m living the dreams of millions right now and it feels amazing.” Tessa gloated jokingly, pulling away from you with only final squeeze and a little wink the camera caught.

“I concur.” You grinned back.

The thirteenth clip was you and Tom Hiddleston, talking with an interviewer on a carpet event. His arm was around your waist and both of you were wearing smiles greeting the interviewer.

“So, obviously, you both act in marvel movies, but not really close together! If you could, would you want to work more closely and have you characters be more involved?”

“I absolutely would.” Tom immediately replied with an honest, heartwarming smile. “And personally, it’s not even a fact of our characters being intertwined it’s more that working this fantastic woman beside me is a gift I have come to deeply cherish, truly it’s an honour. And I suppose, if our characters were to get involved, so to speak, that I would enjoy that because this is the y/n y/l/n, I’d be a mad man not to want that.” He finished charmingly.

You grinned, taking a bow, and both Tom and the interviewer laughed before that clip cut as well.

The fourteenth clip was at Comic-Con, mostly everyone on the cast had already been called out and taken their seats and then your name was called, the audience erupting into loud cheers.

Sebastian, who was sat next to your assigned seat, hopped and and jogged over to offer you his arm as you grinned and waved at everyone—the crowd screaming louder at his actions.

The screams only increased as Chris Evans and Don Cheadle got up to pull out your chair for you to sit down in—you pretended to swoon into Sebastian before kissing all of their cheeks and taking your seat.

“Where was the treatment for me?” RDJ joked.

“Man, they’re just whipped. But, like, who isn’t for Y/n?” Anthony stage whispered back to him and the crowd literally roared in excitement.

The fifteenth clip was Aaron Taylor-Johnson being interviewed with Lizzie for the Age of Ultron press, most probably.

“So, Aaron, obviously your character—spoilers, sorry—isn’t with us anymore but if you had the chance to explore Pietro more, who would you have wanted to explore a romance with?”

“(Your Character) definitely, Y/N.” Aaron answered with a little sheepish grin at the speed and Lizzie giggled into her palm.

“I’m not making fun, I agree, for myself.” Lizzie commented unprompted.

“Why is that?” The interviewer questioned.

“Why—mate, I think it’s pretty obvious. Y/n is such a stunning person, inside and out, I would have loved to—and obviously her character is extremely sick and I’m certain the relationship between her and Pietro would’ve been the stuff of legends but. . come on, Y/n Y/l/n is my real reason.” Aaron joked.

“Get your own girl, she’s mine.” Lizzie glared.

There were still many minutes left of the video left and that alone astounded you; overcome with cackles, you forwarded the video the your Marvel groupchat—so yall bitches like obsessed with me or sum 🥰🥰🥰

[nivalingreenhow]

Okay, now that it's been a few days, and I've had time to process what's happened, it's time to dig into what to do next

Simply put, vote in your midterms. In 2026 33 senate seats will be up for grabs.

*All* house of representative seats will be up for grabs. All 435 of them. Do you know what Trump can do with a congress that's against him? Not much. In 2026 there will be an opportunity to shut this down and give him as much trouble as the republican congress gave Obama. A blue congress means no confirmation for supreme court appointments. It means possibility of impeachment *and* conviction. It means he can be taken out of office, it means that in two years, if enough people vote, he will be effectively shackled

You know what else happens in 2026? Local and state elections. Are you in a state that's dangerously conservative? You can change that. The fact is people don't turn out for mid term elections. They just don't. So even in red states, if enough liberals, progressives, and independents show up, there is an opportunity to take back your state governments.

But the work starts now. Get involved locally. Vote in city counsel elections. Vote for local judges. Vote for sheriff!! Did you know in most places, that's an elected position? You can choose who runs your law enforcement.

Vote for mayor, vote for governor, vote for state legislators. With this administration, the states will be the ones deciding things. Make sure you're creating a place you want to live in. You do have that power. There are several 'red' states that have a higher number of registered democrats than the number of people who voted for Trump. If those people vote in the midterms, then we have hope

This isn't about Harris or the national democratic party and what they've done wrong. This is about your local chapters, the people in *your* communities. This is about your future and the future of this country. Hope is not lost because there are still so many things we can do, and the midterms are the best shot we have at turning this around

[jamilynfx]

Stuck Again

Summary: You're stuck between your boyfriends in what seems to be the hottest night of the year.

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Inspired by this post made by @dorkszn 💖

Warnings: implied sexual content, mentions of stabbing and biting, FLUFF ALL OVER

Part 2

It’s hot.

You don’t mean the usual, July kind of hot in New York when everything seems to melt like a neglected ice-cream cone. You also don’t mean yourself or your companions, even though they have a lot of hot qualities going on.

It’s the place that you’ve found yourself in, or, more accurately, a nest that one of your boyfriends insists on creating each night, no matter the high temperatures outside. With the AC unit barely working and a half-damaged fan, which was almost destroyed on purpose by Logan during one of his daily fights with Wade, tonight’s heat is unbearable.

And it’s not that you don’t like being warm. You’re more of a summer girl, enjoying extreme heat and the sun kissing your skin, your wardrobe full of dresses and skirts to catch a light breeze when outside, always the first one on a lounge chair to sunbathe and bask in the heavenly white heat of long, summer days. Your worst nightmare is deep winter, with agonizingly cold temperatures and activities like ice-skating or building a snowman, hands half-frozen and teeth clattering uncontrollably.

But tonight?

Tonight everything is too much, even for you. The heat is overwhelming and unpleasant, surrounding you from every possible angle.

The fan sounds as if it’s its last night on earth, definitely working overtime and below its paygrade. You can’t see Mary but her light snores fill the room accompanying Logan’s casual growling, deep and insistent in your ear. Wade is silent for once, his breath steadily brushing the skin of your upper arm and neck, the constant sleep talking temporarily simmered down.

It’s your usual sleep arrangement, Logan comfortably situated behind you, your naked back flush with his bare chest, his arms hooped around your belly and mid-section like a vine, his large hands on your waist, leaving you literally no space to move or escape without waking him up. Wade is glued to the front of your body, your legs tangled together like roots of a crazy tree, your head resting on his shoulder with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, and Wade’s other arm slung over you and Logan, to have you both within an arm’s reach.

Logan isn’t a fan of Wade stealing you all for himself, especially if he does it in that obnoxious, you won’t do shit about it, peanut way, which causes low, unamused grumbling on better days and scratching or outright stabbing Wade on not so good ones. It’s more of expressing difficult feelings through violence than real hatred but Logan wouldn’t be caught dead saying out loud that he secretly enjoys when Wade hugs you both the way he’s doing it now.

Sure, there are nights where Wade is the one to squish you from behind like a sponge but, most of the time, he prefers to be in front, chest to chest or tits to tits,if you were to quote the man himself, leaving your behind to Logan’s exclusive use. Too bad Wade ain’t ever really tits to tits, it’s more of his head resting on your shoulder or right between your cleavage, which dangerously overlaps with him drooling all over your breasts every other time. It isn’t that unpleasant but you fake-complain in the mornings when it happens, just to see Wade be slightly embarrassed for once. Your legs always end up entangled, little Mary resting somewhere in between the three of you.

And while having two private heaters is heavenly during the cold, winter months of the year, now it seems to be a not-so-funny joke. Both Wade and Logan love to sleep naked or with just one item of clothing on them, Wade sometimes choosing to sleep only in Logan’s t-shirt. Yes, it doesn’t cover anything, and on days like this you’re grateful that Al is actually blind. Sleeping naked isn’t a downside per se, but now it makes you feel oven-hot, the heat that radiates from everyone suddenly too overwhelming to enjoy it.  

To make matters worse, you’re sticky. Sticky with multiple layers of sweat, droplets of it actively trickling down your side and back, your hair plastered all over your neck and forehead making you even hotter, especially with Logan’s beard buried in the crook of your neck. The place where Wade’s arm rests on yours is soaking wet, little beads of sweat running down to drip, drip, drip right onto your hip and sheets. On the top of it all, you’re sticky like that, too, a mixture of bodily fluids splashed all over your thighs, lower belly, and chest, a rather messy testament to your before-bedtime activities, which made you delirious with pleasure and forced you to fall asleep right after Logan’s hushed ‘night, princess.

You’re stuck.

You try to focus on falling back to sleep but it doesn’t work. There’s no way you’re not going to wake up Logan if you start moving but you can’t stay like that, feeling like a lobster being thrown into boiling water. The final straw is Mary, who changes her position mid-sleep and covers your feet with her little body, making your temperature skyrocket.

You grunt, wiggling carefully to free yourself of Logan’s arms. Wade is still asleep when he slightly turns away from you both, leaving you a bit shocked that he dressed into his Hello Kitty boxers for once.

You’re in the middle of sliding down Logan’s chest, his arms level with your tits, when Logan’s hoarse voice makes you stop all your abrupt movements.

“What is it that you’re doing, bub?”

Fuck.

“It’s too hot in here. I need out,” you whisper quickly, your hands coming to rest on his huge arms. You’d think he’d let you go but it’s not that easy. Logan slightly loosens his grip on you, only to slide you back up and hide his face in your sweaty hair. You manage to twist your body towards his face. “I’m serious, Lo. I need a cold shower, right now.”

The urgency in your tone gets his attention. He lets you go with an unhappy growl that makes Mary perk up.  

“Want me to go wit’ ya?”

You kiss him on the lips, just a little peck but that seems to do the trick.

“No, I’ll be quick. Sorry about waking you up.”

His only answer is another low growl but the crease between Logan’s brows straightens, then completely disappears, right when you’re kissing Wade’s sweaty forehead.

Your visit to the bathroom is quick but Mary follows you anyway. She sits right in front of the shower curtain, yawning a total of six times before you finish showering. The water is cold on your skin, a bit of a shock after being surrounded with extreme warmth, all stickiness and hotness going down the drain in a matter of minutes. Dry and ready to go, you pick the dog up with one hand, placing her under your left arm.

“Look at you, standing guard and all,” you whisper words of praise as you go back into your small, stuffy room, Mary wagging her tail happily.

Ten minutes are enough for Wade to force himself into Logan’s personal space, now that you’re not their buffer. His hello kitty cladded hips are perfectly aligned with Logan’s naked ones, his hand fondling Logan’s tits, his face halfway in Logan’s hair.

“Come quick, baby girl, and save me,” squeaks Wade when you put Mary down on the edge of the bed. That’s when you see it, Logan’s teeth buried in Wade’s arm, the same one which Wade used to feel Logan up. It’s nothing serious if there’s no blood, so you lie down in between them, forcing Logan to let go of Wade’s flesh.

“Gods’sake, behave, both of you.”

You put your head on Wade’s chest, finding your way back into a comfortable position, Logan’s hands immediately on your hips. Wade makes a big stretch, “accidentally” extending his arm to embrace you both.

“Thought he’d bite it off but I’m safe when you’re here.”

Logan buries his nose in your neck, growling lowly behind your ear, probably something about slicing Wade’s arm off, but it’s too incoherent to know for sure. He doesn’t move away from Wade’s embrace, though, which is enough for you to smile happily, watching as Mary finds her spot in between Logan’s feet.

Stuck again.

Exactly the way it should be.

[yeahihyperfixtate]

Hi your writing is so cute, I saw you're taking reqs rn...

could I possibly have a neurodivergent (maybe specifically ADHD) reader x whatever characters you'd like (preferably all of them but your choice pook) thanks!!

♡ —sylus x adhd!reader

content : fluff, downbad sylus, mc!reader has adhd depicted from a specific perspective, sylus heavily fw adhd havers <3, (heavily written on my own personal perspective of adhd) maybe a pt.2

authors note : my first req <3, this is actually fantastic cause i've got adhd myself! im not too confident with the others yet, literally all my drafts rn are all sylus based (im ashamed to say im not familiar with zayne and xaviers character enough to write them,,, yet.)

please do not characterise adhd based on specifically these events, this is what i've personally experienced and found easy to write, (not everyone has the same experiences/behaviour!)

♡ — adhd!reader who repeats the same story to her current associate at least twice, blissfully unaware of the repetition, a common occurrence—she just can't help herself.. the result is always the same, her enthusiasm bubbling over—the familiar response comes like clockwork: “you told me this story yesterday, remember?” her words halt mid-sentence, her excitement deflating faster than it had filled her chest. “right, sorry, i forgot,” she mumbles, forcing a small, apologetic smile. they nod briefly before their attention flickers back to whatever was so captivating on their phone, leaving her silent, a sigh falling from her mouth instead of the words she wanted to share still lingering on her tongue, unspoken and heavy, even if it was a reoccurrence.

“sylus, you won't believe what happened to me today!” you exclaimed, bursting through the door with wide eyes and a glowing excitement that filled the room. “t-there was this cat—it meowed like a duck or something, it was so sooo adorable!” you squeaked, your voice pitching higher with enthusiasm. “but then i had to leave from break,” you sighed, pouting as you flopped dramatically onto the couch.

sylus glanced up from the news article he was reading, keyword—was. a sly smile crept onto his lips, usual mischief twinkling in his eyes. “oh, is that right, sweetie?" he teased, tilting his head with a mock-serious look. "you'll have to bring me along on your next mission so i can witness these mystical, duck-like cats for myself."

"deal," you grinned, your face lighting up as you giggled, completely unaware of how sylus's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on yours with a quiet admiration.. he'd play along every time, as many times as you needed, his heart melting just a little more with every recount. after all, he wasn't just listening to the story; he was basking in the warmth of your presence, content to play the part of your captivated audience forever.

♡ — adhd!reader who’s grown all too familiar with being ignored by others for most of her life, her excited tangents about a new interest for the day often trailing off into an uncomfortable silence, no response waiting at the end. she used to sit there, the realisation sinking in like a heavy stone—you’ve done it again, idiot—the naturally heard words blaring in her mind as if through a megaphone, shame and self-doubt rushing in like a wave. she’d turn back to her laptop, eyes lowered, the once-comforting cafe ambience now feeling like a weight pressing down on her chest, making it harder to turn back to the task she was supposed to be completing, right, the reports..

sylus, ever the gentleman, makes his way to your side with practised ease, opening the door for you, his hand already outstretched to steady you as you carefully step out, mindful of the hovering dress that threatens to catch under your heels. a soft giggle escapes your lips as you playfully speak, “thank you, kind sir,” your voice light with amusement.

smirking, his eyes sparkling in the dim evening light. “anything for you, my sweet,” he replies with a wink, pulling your hand gently onto his arm. you gladly wrap your arms around his bicep, feeling the warmth of his strength under your fingers as you walk together, leaving the valet behind. the fine dining restaurant ahead glows softly in the night, a place you had casually mentioned to him just two nights ago as a date idea.

“but the duality of this bitch,” you huffed, voice full of frustration. “to talk behind my back like i was in the wrong. like, seriously? you cheat on your boyfriend, and then get mad when i don’t want to be friends with you anymore? oh, and i forgot to tell you—my friend, well ex-friend knew about it, she was hiding it from us the whole time!”

your words spilled out in a rush, the weekly gossip pouring faster than you could control. it wasn’t until you hit a pause in your tangent that it hit you—fuck, i did it again. you looked up at him, bracing yourself, searching his face for any sign of annoyance, for that familiar look people often gave you when you rambled too much. but instead, you found his hand gently stroking your bejewelled one—his gifts, of course—while his crimson eyes stayed locked on yours, soft and full of affection. not a trace of irritation.

just as you were about to apologise for going on too long, he beat you to it, his voice calm and sweet, “you’d think the hunters of linkon would act better. i was sorely mistaken.” his lips curled into a soft chuckle, eyes glinting playfully. “so… what did you say to her and your now ex-friend? you didn't finish.”

relief flooded through you. of course—he wanted to hear more. with his gentle smile urging you on, you dove back into the tale, feeling lighter, knowing you could share whatever you wanted to in this world with him without any thought whatsoever.

♡ — adhd!reader who accidentally interrupts her friends and family—she just can’t help it, really, she can’t. it’s the same scenario every time: friends are mid-conversation, talking about someone or something, and before she can stop herself, she’s chiming in too early, cutting them off without meaning to. they pause, giving that familiar look—half-surprised, half-apologetic or whatever it was. “ah, sorry,” she mutters, biting her lip to stay quiet. but it’s so hard. especially when they start talking about that café she just went to yesterday, mentioning the specific drink that was on sale—the very one you ordered. the words are right there, bubbling up in your chest, why was it so hard to keep quiet?

sylus strolls into the kitchen with a sly grin, “i’ve got a surprise for you tonight, kitten.” his arms wrap around you from behind as you focus on whipping up your favourite brownies—ones in the last batch that went mysteriously missing, thanks to the twins no doubt. you giggle, already used to this affectionate routine, as sylus leans in to inhale the scent of your perfume lingering on his shirt, one of his smaller ones that still manages to engulf you completely. “can I get a clue?” you ask, impressively keeping your attention on measuring the cocoa powder, despite his playful distraction.

“you’ll just have to wait and see sweetie,” sylus chuckles, shifting beside you but keeping an arm snugly around your waist, his warmth never leaving your side. “although i should probably tell you t—” sylus’s words were abruptly cut off by your excitement bursting through. “oooh, wait! is it that new cat café I was talking about a few days ago? the one that opens up at night?”

your excitement quickly deflated as you looked up at him, realizing you’d interrupted him—again. a familiar sinking feeling crept in, but before you could even apologise, you caught sylus’s expression. looking down at you, more love in his eyes than you ever thought possible, his smile soft and full of affection. “that’s actually what i’ve planned for us tomorrow, dear,” he smirked, leaning in closer, his face inches from yours. “but like i said, you’ll find out tonight. just make sure to wear that dress i got you.” your heart fluttered at his words, the warmth of his voice and the way he effortlessly brushed off your little interruption. you giggled softly, leaning into his touch as he gently squeezed your waist. “fine, but I’m holding you to that cat café date,” you teased, already imagining the sweet night ahead.

[yunoclips]

interruptions

Nerd!Haechan x reader

happy new year ;)

nsfw included

He remembers the first time he saw you. The sun was shining way too brightly and the heat was sweltering. It was a normal day on campus for Haechan. Following his normal routine of eating , studying and then getting to class. Leaving his dorm as quietly as possible trying his best to leave his roommate, Jaehyun undisturbed. Jaehyun was someone that valued his hours of “beauty sleep”. 

He remembers the last time he accidentally disrupted Jaehyun’s sleep. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. But none the less he manages to exit successfully. Everything goes as planned. He gets to class without any interruptions. Interruptions are actually something that he rarely ever encounters considering he doesn’t have the most active social life. 

Haechan has no friends—Not counting the ones he has online waiting for him in his overwatch server. 

But he has no actual friends. The ones that you can go out with. The ones that let you crash at their place just because. The ones that keep you company when you’re lonely.

And while that might sound sad to any other person , it actually doesn’t effect him. Well at least that’s what he believes. He has good grades , a decent place to stay , food filling his belly and a computer than can handle everything else. Who needs friends when you already have the essentials. 

Besides friends can drag you down. If he had friends he wouldn’t be able to get to class on time and sit in his favorite spot like he’s doing now. 

Some people would consider him a Nerd, and he doesn’t blame them. He gets to class on time every day , always participates , never hands in an assignment late , gets perfect scores and to top it all of he wears these thick rimmed black glasses. Being called a Nerd is expected and he doesn’t mind it at all. 

As usual class goes by quickly, with no interruptions of course. Haechan steps out into the sweltering heat once again. Using his hand to shield the sun that blinds his eyes , he starts walking to his next class. Everything goes smoothly with no interruptions. Until he feels something fall out of his back pocket. He turns around quickly and bends down to grab it but when he looks up he stares at the first interruption he’s had in a while.

There you were standing in the middle of the campus looking absolutely dumb founded. The light of the sun reflecting off of your skin perfectly. Your hair was beautiful , bringing out all the profound features of your face. Your body was mesmerizing. He knows he shouldn’t be looking at you like this but he can’t help it when he finds himself staring at your tits. Eyes wandering to your thighs. Every thought that he shouldn’t be having suddenly bombards his mind. 

He tries his hardest to look away but something about you is so captivating. Maybe it’s the way you looked so confused. Holding the campus directory out , switching between looking down at it and then looking up to try and pin point your location. If he was a normal person he would’ve walked up to you and offered help. But he isn’t normal. 

So he turns around and walks to class quicker than he normally would. That day he was 10 minutes early to class. 

The next week was full of interruptions. If it wasn’t bad enough that he couldn’t get the image of you out of his mind. You just so happened to be in the same statistics class as him. 

“Great”

Even more distractions for him. Today was the day he finally decided to stop allowing you to cloud his mind. He was just gonna keep his head down and do his work like always. You didn’t even know he existed. How could he be so obsessed with someone that doesn’t even know he exists. 

His plans were actually starting to work. He managed to actually get some useful notes down on his paper without pausing mid sentence to daydream about how you would look ontop of him. But as the saying goes — all good things must come to an end. His bubble is popped instantly the moment you walk up to him. 

“Hi, my name is y/n” You had this disgustingly bright smile on your face. It wasn’t disgusting because it was a bad smile , it was disgusting because it was so precious that it should be locked away in a safe and hidden from the world. Not just exposed like this in front of so many filthy people. 

“ I know this is probably a rude way of introducing myself. But I’m actually quite new to campus.”

How pathetic he must look right now, he thinks to himself. His mouth is hung open and his eyes are drilling holes into yours. Instead of responding he just stares. Not thinking much of it , you continue 

“Your name is Haechan right? It’s nice to meet you !”  

Taking his limp hand off the desk you intertwine it with yours and shake it before softly placing it back down. 

When you touch him he feels something inside of him jump. He doesn’t know if was his heart or his cock. Or both. 

Still not receiving any response other than a mindless stare, you keep going. 

“I actually came to you for a reason.”

There it goes. What a fool he would be to think you would actually come up to him just because you wanted to be friends. Of course you needed something. 

“I was talking to our professor just a minutes ago. I had to explain to him that I was considering dropping this course. Math isn’t one of my strengths and I just can’t deal with the added stress right now. He interrupted me though and told me that there was actually someone in this class that could help me out a bit. Nd now here I am.” 

You pause taking a moment to try and read his face. Trying to pick out any kind of reaction but you weren’t receiving any. 

“You know , it’s totally fine if you say no. I know this is again , kind of rude and abrupt. If you can’t help I won’t be mad or anythi-“

“No!” He says a little too loud. So loud that a few of the students that were close to him turned their heads quickly just to check if something was wrong. 

“Shit, this is why you don’t have any friends. What kind of response was that?” Internally scolding himself. 

“I-i mean no, it’s totally fine. I would be honored to help you. I-i mean not honored but glad. Honored sounds kind of creepy. A-am I making this weird , fuck you probably think I’m crazy. I promise I’m not it’s jus-“

Cutting him off , you put your hand on his shoulder and give him a comforting look. 

“It’s okay. It’s actually kinda cute.” 

Cute. You just called him cute. Something inside of him jumped again , this time it was definitely his cock. 

“So how about this Saturday at 1 ? We can meet in the park a few blocks down. It’s supposed to be really nice out. I can bring snacks and a blanket. It’s the least I can do considering you’ll be helping me out with something so short notice.” You finish with a smile painted across your face. 

All he can do is nod. Still stuck in a trance , he forces his self to answer. “Y-yea , Saturday is good. I can do Saturday” 

“Great ! See you Saturday Haechan”  

And just like that you disappear. The rest of Haechan’s day was absolutely unproductive. 

When he got home that night, he sprawled across his bed staring at the ceiling in darkness. That same night he jerked himself off with the hand you shook.

Removing his trousers with haste. The little glob of spit wasn’t enough to prevent friction. His hand was moving fast, faster than any other time. He was working so hard that his arm caught a cramp. 

His stomach was burning , knots of pure pleasure —and humiliation— forming. Coaxing himself through orgasm after orgasm. His head started to fog , he could hear his own heartbeat ripping through his ears. Mouth hung open in a silent scream. Thighs twitching , toes curled.

Only when his cock started to burn from the friction, did he finally stop. He fell asleep with his cock still in his hand. The only thing he could see in his dreams was you.  

The rest of the days leading up to Saturday went by like a blur. When the day finally came Haechan found himself sinking in desperation. For some reason the time leading up to your 1’o clock meet up was incredibly slow. He had made sure to take a nice shower with his good body wash that he spent way too much money on. He did his skin care routine , making sure to add an extra step. He even ironed his clothes , something he never does.  

He got to the park 10 minutes early. Although he’s always an early person for no real reason , this time he needed those 10 minutes to prepare himself.

How was he gonna greet you? Was he gonna stumble over his words like an idiot or speak in confidence? How did he look , was his shirt crisp enough? Did he smell fine? 

Just as he started to question himself more you walked towards him. That beautiful smile planted on your face , carrying a few bags and blankets. He was in a trance , and just like that everything he spent 10 minutes thinking about instantly disappeared from his mind. 

You finally reached him and plopped everything down. Leaning in to give him a hug you noticed how stiff he got. Maybe you should’ve asked first , you say to yourself. But little did you know , that small gesture alone sent blood rushing straight to his cock. 

“Fucking hell, get it together.” He says to himself. 

“Hi! I’m sorry for having you wait like this. The bus was taking longer than usual” genuine sorriness lacing your voice. 

“N-no , it’s fine. I wasn’t here that long”. And just like that a loud wave of silence washes over. He’s just staring at you like you have a spider on your forehead.

“Maybe the hug was actually way to much…” You say to yourself. 

“Well… How about we take a seat. I’ll open the blanket.” Breaking the silence. You bend down to start setting up. Shortly after you start, you see the other side of the blanket being spread open. Looking up , you see Haechan bent down to help you. How nice. 

The rest of the studying session goes smoothly. You come to learn that Haechan was indeed , very smart.  You understood everything he was saying , with the exception of some hardcore things. But you weren’t worried , there was always room for another session with him. 

After two long hours goes by , you sit up and pop a few grapes in your mouth. He seems to get the message and turns on his back, leaving the textbook forgotten. 

“Let’s take a break.” You propose. 

“Okay” Lifting himself up to face you , he continues. “I like breaks , breaks are cool.” 

He was so cute , you chuckle silently to yourself. 

“How about we tell each other one thing about ourselves. It can be anything.” 

“O-okay” hesitance evident in his voice. 

“I’ll start… I have this obsession with Kiwis. I know you’re probably thinking that I’m being over dramatic but no. I genuinely cannot go a single day without having one. It could be the middle of the night and I would literally wake myself up just to grab a kiwi , then go back to bed. It’s really weird I know… Actually you’re the first person that I’ve told. I guess today is your lucky day” Finishing off with a giggle. 

He feels like a pervert when the sound of your giggling goes through his ears and runs straight down to his cock. 

Clearing his throat , trying to calm himself down. He starts to speak. 

“My name isn’t Haechan. I mean it is Haechan but my actual name isn’t. It’s Donghyuck , but only my mom calls me that.” 

Donghyuck. What a nice name. It rings in your ears like the sound of wind chimes. 

“Donghyuck.. I like it , I like it a lot actually. Would it be fine if I called you that ?” 

At that moment he became even more obsessed with you than before. If that was even possible.

“Yea. I’d like that actually.” For the first time in a while , his heart is filled with warmth. 

“Well...Donghyuck. This was really nice. I should get going though , it’s getting dark out here and I don’t wanna get caught at the bus stop. How bout we do this again next week? Same place, same time ?” 

“Yes.” Answering almost too quickly. 

“I mean , yes that’s fine with me. Same place, same time.” 

Giving him a nod with a smile accompanying it , you get up. He follows after you, helping you pack up the snacks and the blanket. After you finish you give him one final hug. Leaning up to whisper in his ear. “Thank you again , Donghyuck.” 

And before he gets the chance to react you walk off. Leaving him there in shock with a painfully erect cock in his pants. It takes him 2 minutes to finally move and pick up his backpack from the floor. When he starts walking he almost trips over something. He looks down and it was your perfume. The same perfume that you use in class everyday. The perfume that smells like flower petals with hints of sweet fruit and a pinch of spice. The same perfume that he smelt when you whispered in his ear.

He leans down to pick it up. Staring at it for a few seconds he decides to just put it in his bag. Any normal person would’ve just quickly given it to you considering the bus stop was literally down the street. But Donghyuck is not a normal person. 

That night when he gets home , he does something so perverted. Something he’d never tell a soul about. He pulls out your perfume and sprays it all over his stuffed bear that he won at a raffle. Not even taking the time to get naked , he humps the toy with sloppy, inexperienced thrusts. His glasses fog up from the warmth of the room. His face is sweaty and sticky. He had drool seeping out the corners of his mouth. Mind gone completely blank. 

He came so hard, that he blacked out. 

When he regained consciousness two things were coursing through his mind. One of those things was him praying that his roommate didn’t hear him fucking himself silly. The other thing being that he was in trouble and it was all your fault. 

For the next couple of weeks , the two of you had these study sessions. They had went well and you were actually starting to understand the class. You and Donghyuck got closer too.

Ending every session with a fun fact about yourselves turned into full conversations about anything that crossed your mind. You would talk and he would listen. Thoughts of Donghyuck started clouding your head , even when you two weren’t together. 

Maybe it was because he never judged you for any weird thing you’ve said. Or maybe it was because he would let you talk your heart out — something nobody has ever done , and he would just listen happily. It could’ve also been the way he looks completely heart broken every time you leave him , like he’s worried you will never comeback.

 He’s also pretty attractive as well, soft black hair, beautiful skin, beauty moles that were spread so perfectly across his face and those thick rimmed black glasses. 

When you walked up to his seat in class that day , he assumed that it would just be for another study session. 

“Hi , we’re still on for saturda-“ 

“Do you wanna go out with me?” Cutting him off quickly.

“Like on a date.” You continue. You wait for a response but it takes a while. Maybe he didn’t understand you ?

But Donghyuck definitely understood. He understood so well that he thinks he’s dreaming actually. When the words “go out with me” flowed out of your mouth , his ears started ringing. He forgot how to breathe for a quick second. And for some odd reason he feels tears well up in his eyes. But before you think he’s trying to deny you , he forces himself to respond. 

“Are you asking me out ?”

“Yea I am actually” 

This can’t be right. The girl of his dreams asking him out , this has to be some sick joke. 

“Are you sure you weren’t talking to the person behind me , cause that would make sen-“

“No. I’m asking you, Donghyuck Lee, out on a date with me.” 

The tears were starting to fall now. Not of sadness but instead of Joy and utter happiness.

“Y-yea. I would be honored to go out with you, Like on a date of course.” Bringing his hand up to quickly wipe his cheek before you notice how pathetic he is. 

“Great ! I was thinking Friday , 5’ o clock ? There’s this really good looking burger joint around here.” There goes that beautiful smile again , so bright and big.

“Friday sounds good. I like Friday's …” 

“Good,” Pausing to take a good look at his face, you noticed his eyes were a bit watery. How cute.  “I’ll see you friday then , Donghyuck.” And just like that you disappear once again. 

When Donghyuck gets home that night , he cries in his pillow. He cries because he finally understands what it feels like to not be lonely— something that he’s been for so long. He cries and then humps his stuffed toy once again , until the only thought running through his mind is you. 

Friday came quickly. You two had met up a small little diner in the corner of town as promised. Everything was going perfect. The evening filled with jokes and you laughing at Donghyuck as he was having a mini panic attack after spilling ketchup all over his shirt.

The conversations were flowing so smoothly , it was like you two had known each other your entire lives. 

And yet again as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. 

It was time to head back home but instead of taking the bus like you usually would you and Donghyuck decided to just walk.The entire walk was filled with you two telling each other things that nobody else knew. You felt this weird sense of comfort when you spoke to him. Almost like he was the only person who understood who you really were.

When you approached the front of your building you felt a wave of sadness wash over you. This was truly an amazing night.

“I usually don’t do this after the first date but… there’s just something about you Donghyuck.” For the first time since you met him , you felt nervous.

You were staring at the ground beneath you. You took a few seconds to recollect yourself. What was the worse that could happen? This is Donghyuck. Your sweet , understanding , shy , silly Donghyuck. 

“Donghyuck.. do you maybe wanna go out with me? As like… my boyfriend?” 

Boyfriend. The word boyfriend rang in Donghyuck’s ears. His breathing started getting shallow and his knees buckled a bit. A rush of euphoria washed over him , his mind was racing and his heart was beating out of his chest. The tears welled up in his eyes and started to roll down his pretty face like a waterfall. 

“Y-yea , I’d love that actually” Pausing to sniffle and wipe his face with the sleeve of his shirt. 

“I’d love to be your boyfriend.” 

“Are you okay hyuck ? You’re crying…” There was genuine concern in your voice. 

“N-no I’m fine. Just really really happy.”

What a dork. He was so infatuated with you that he started to cry when you asked him out. You found it endearing that he enjoyed you so much. A smile painted your face. There was an intense silence that enveloped the two of you in a box. It was as if you and Donghyuck were the only people on earth. Basking in each others glory. 

Staring into his captivating eyes you start to inch in closer to his face. Finally planting a soft kiss on his lips. He had completely stopped breathing. When you pulled away he looked absolutely stunned. Cute.

You give him a final look before turning away , walking to the entrance of your building. His eyes following you in silence.

Before you opened the door you turned around to say one last thing. 

“Goodnight , Donghyuck.” And just like that, you disappear. 

After you left him , he stood still in front of your building for 10 minutes. The world was revolving but Donghyuck was absolutely stuck. He needed time to comprehend what just happened , he had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. 

That night when Donghyuck got home , he cried for a bit. Then he got on Overwatch to tell his buddies that he’d be gone for a while. Finally he sprawled himself out on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Occasionally bringing his hand up to rub over his lips, as if rubbing them would take him back to the moment you placed your soft lips on his. As the night got darker , his eyes got heavy. When he finally fell asleep he had a smile on his face and dreamed of you. 

Everything was perfect. 

[what-the-floofin]

So how do baby taurs work for the equitaurs and cervitaurs in your stuff?

Oh that's a good one actually - lots to talk about! Too much for one post, but gotta start somewhere. Enjoy some messy micro scribbles peppered throughout. They were originally very very tiny so, pardon blurriness.

I've got my Taurs running overall pretty similar to equine cycles and gestations - meaning they are what you call 'long-day triggered' by the spring and summer seasons.

(Though they do cycle throughout the year, just at slower rates and less consistently over cooler seasons)

This goes for the cervitaurs too - rather than using the shorter gestation of their deer alikes - as they and their foals are a bit bigger and more complex to deal with. Which also goes to suggest that twins/multiples are not a frequent occurrence for cervitaurs in comparison to actual deer, and inherently poses as much danger as it does for equines instead. Possible, but high risk and incredibly demanding.

So, you're looking at an 11 month gestation on average, and typically starting in a mid-spring to late-summer window. Which places most taurs at being born early-spring to mid-summer. It's most uncommon to be winter born, but not weird tbh.

Foals are super awkward, there's no getting around that, and in the first year they have a ridiculous growth rate when compared to other sentient creatures of similar lifespans.

These things are weeds - the difference from one day old to three months old is phenomenal alone. They are, however, cooked a little further along than what you'd be comparing to for a newborn human. They're able to support themselves enough to avoid outright injury (think like a 3-4 month old baby), but gaining actual control of all those limbs takes a bit more time. The equine half however would be a touch undercooked for a horse. Just physically, in size. No worries about comparative internal developments, that's all good and ready to go.

So they're typically gonna spend shy of their first month feeding and sleeping, practicing rolling up, sitting and limb coordination to build strength for self-standing. If mama has places to be, that baby is getting carried.

I also absolutely subscribe to the idea of arms being naturally held close to torso prior to having balance and coordination. It would support them a lot! Then it becomes a self-soothing gesture seen in the anxious, and an instinctive positional response when badly startled. Tuck in!

By three months you can expect them to be racing on their little stilt legs - albeit still with the occasional wobble and spill. And wowee did that happen fast when you think about it.

While the zoomies are a lot, they're balanced out by the fact that so much oncoming growth means foals crash nap very frequently. These buggers sleep a lot. It's go hard and sleep hard on endless rotation. Play, snack, nap, rinse and repeat.

This accelerated growth races away throughout their first year, and then drops right back into something a bit more reasonable - at least when you're considering it from the human perspective!

Yet in comparison to how they first started out, it's practically snail paced.

I'm meaning, you look at the size of a 3 month old horse foal, and that's the closest comparison to a 2 year old taur foal in body. Every 'horse foal month' thereafter starts guiding the next 'taur foal year' visual until you hit that yearling horse look for a taur when they're 10-11 years old. Then by that point, they've reached most of their full leg length, and the next 10 years is focused on finishing the bulking out of their frame.

(click to enlarge I hope) - Featuring my lass Thalo here haha

By rule of thumb I just have both equid and humanoid aspects grow in relative balance to each other, lanky stages and all. From the human perspective, the humanoid half grows crazy fast at first and then becomes comparatively similar. From the horse perspective, the equine half is crazy slow and always is. It would also give credit to having a higher physical durability than their animal counterparts. More time was spent growing!

It's worth noting that a lot of perceived 'weirdness' only comes from trying to compare them purely 1 to 1 with either horse, deer or human kids. Taurs are their own thing though! And nature's most consistent attitude is to Find What Works and Do it. No matter how wack, if it works it's used.

So, a rapid starting growth tapered into a much slower rate once they're stabilised and running was just the path that worked best for this Taur survival. Keep it simple!

There's always more to cover, but this is chunky enough for now. Whew!

[leth-writes]

Yandere batfam x reader part 4!

The cafe, Little Spoon, was extraordinarily quiet for this time of day; last time you had been the line had been out the door to get a drink, let alone sit at the tables and enjoy a meal. Yet, you supposed the complete lack of jobs and the constant villain attacks had created the perfect storm to kill most small businesses. In that light, you were happy such a small cafe was able to stay open, especially with the encroaching giants in the area. Sitting at the table, picking at your bagel with your head down, you felt shame. Having dumped your entire life story out for TIm and Jason to pick at, you felt weirdly hollow.

It felt like someone had scooped out your insides with a dull spoon, and you stared despondent down at your mangled bagel. Jason was texting again, and Tim was staring into the distance, lost in thought. You got the feeling you were the subject of his reverie. It felt weird, seeing them both so lost in their own worlds, especially after the intense way they had stared as you explained your reasoning behind choosing their family.

You didn’t know what to do now, and shame radiated through your core at facing the victims of your crime face to face. No matter how much you had apologized, and how much they had promised they didn’t mind, it still felt hollow, like you wouldn’t ever be able to make up for what you’d done.

“Well, I sicked Barbara on your landlord; if he’s got any dirt, she’ll dig it up.” Jason sighed as he plopped his phone down on the table, leaning back in his chair. “It’s probably a mafia connection. We’ll have to alert the … authorities.” Tim pondered, still half lost in thought and staring out the window. The idea of your landlord, the very one who had indirectly put you in this situation, and who you still hadn’t seen, having some sort of criminal connection had never crossed your mind; you couldn’t believe it was even possible. Hell, it was the type of thing to happen in film, not in real life! Yet, the more you thought about it, the more it made sense; it would explain the constant patrolling from the bats the last little while, you supposed.  You stared at Tim’s face in profile, noticing the sharp turn of his thin, high nose and his full, pink lips. You couldn’t believe you were soulbound, destined to have some sort of relationship that only time would reveal. You weren’t sure what your next steps were, but you felt guilty enough to do whatever Tim and Jason would suggest.

Jason abruptly stood up, making meaningful eye contact with Tim. “Hey, I’ll get you a coffee. Want anything else to eat besides that poor bagel?” He questioned you, a half-smile gracing his chiseled face. You shook your head mutely, unwilling to ask for even more. Besides, you weren’t feeling hungry, the anxiety killing any appetite you may have. Tim had turned to look back out the window, so you occupied yourself with glancing around the small room. The only other customer was a young Asian woman, maybe mid-twenties, with choppy black hair ending at the nape of her neck and flaming her face in floaty whisps. She was looking down at her phone, small mouth upturned into a smile, with her chocolatey dark eyes locked onto her screen. She was giggling slightly, evidently at the response from whoever she was texting.

As you attempted to get a closer look at her screen, both out of boredom and curiosity, Jason crossed your line of sight and sat a large porcelain cup and saucer in front of you. “Here,” he started, “It’s hazelnut. Drink up, then we can leave for the manor so you can meet the others”. You took a small sip as he sat down, looking behind you toward the door. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t really feel comfortable going to the manor. I can’t impose on your family, not after everything I did…” You responded, taking another sip of the rich, thick drink. Jason huffed playfully, rolling his eyes and smiling. “I told you it’s fine. You aren’t the first and you won’t be the last, but you’re definitely the cutest,” He smirked as you hiked your shoulders toward your ears in embarrassment. “Listen, the least you can do is meet the others. I’m sure they’d love to get to know you for who you really are, they’ve been curious for ages,” Tim turned toward you, staring earnestly into your eyes and gently gripping your free hand. 

“I… I don’t know…” You said hesitantly, pausing to take a large sip of the drink and glance out the window. What did you have waiting for you? Your apartment was empty and the neighbors weren’t exactly great company as of late, and the constant rejection while looking for work was definitely taking its toll. You yawned, overcome with a wave of sudden exhaustion. Your adrenaline must have crashed after it spiked earlier, you supposed. Through the fog of the exhaustion, you found yourself nodding along to their gentle affirmations as they led you out to the car that was now parked in front of the cafe. If you were more conscious, you would’ve questioned it, but the exhaustion wiped you out and you ended up passed out, laid over Tim’s lap as he ran his hand down your back and whispered reassurances.

Getting in the car was the final mistake that sealed your fate.

[trensu]

Steve had always wanted to be a skilled fighter. The schools that churned out the best fighters all happened to be schools for holy warriors. It was possible that Steve maybe sort of lied a little (with the help of his friends Robin and Dustin) to get into this school by claiming he was full to the brim of religious fervor but hadn’t decided who to pledge his sword to yet. It shouldn’t have worked, if he were honest with himself, but by some stroke of luck it did, and he finished his training as one of the top combatants. 

The issue now was that he had to pick a god whose crest to carry. There were all sorts of gods. Gods of water, gods of air, gods of agriculture, war gods, cat gods, plant gods...the list was endless. And while Steve was one of the best fighters around, he was most definitely not one of the best researchers. Thankfully Dustin and Robin were very clever and knew where to find details about the many gods in existence.

“So what kind of god do you want to follow? Maybe we can start there,” Robin asked.

“Uh…a good one?”

“You’re no help at all, you know that?” Dustin grumbled.

They suggested a local god known as Carver who stood for righteousness, but Steve turned that down. It didn't feel like a good fit. They suggested a love god by the name of Chrissy, who valued love of all kinds, romantic, platonic, familial...Steve had been tempted, very tempted, because Steve had always carried an excess of love in his heart. Robin had vetoed that one stating that Steve was already too reckless with his love and she wouldn't stand by and watch him break his own heart over and over again.

Dustin suggested a god of knowledge, Clarke, who blessed and guided those with curiosity, imagination, and a knack for invention. Steve shot that one down immediately. He was never one to be overly imaginative or curious; he preferred to deal with concrete things. Out of their quickly dwindling list, Robin reluctantly suggested Hargrove, a war god favored by a nearby kingdom, but if Carver was ill-fitting, then Hargrove was outright repellent to Steve.

"C'mon, Steve, you gotta pick someone!" Dustin huffed in frustration. 

Robin thunked her head against the table in the library where they were looking up deities. She was obviously at her wit's end too. Steve, however, just dug his heels in with a particularly stubborn scowl.

"I can't just pick anyone!" Steve said. "If I'm going to pledge my sword to someone, it has to be someone...someone good. Someone that, I don't know, someone I can believe in, even when--no especially when things go wrong. That’s the whole point!"

"Yeah, I get that," Robin sighed, a mix of fond and annoyed, "but this is the eighth book we've gone through and the only one left here is called the King of Darkness which is hardly going to--huh."

Robin paused mid-rant to look at the page more closely. Steve and Dustin both huddled around her to peek into the book as well. Dustin also made a sound of curiosity.

"That's weird," Dustin said.

"Right?" Robin asked enthusiastically.

"What? What's weird?" Steve didn't get what caught their attention.

"This god only has a couple of sentences," Dustin explained, "And they don't really make sense. Something about dark creatures and the undeserving? The grammar and structure is all weird though."

"It looks like a half-assed translation," Robin added with a nod. "We should find the original text."

"Yeah! And if we can make a better translation, we could get it added to the next edition and they'd have to put our names on the book," Dustin said excitedly. Robin's eyes lit up at the thought and they both rushed off to the stacks to track down any original sources.

"Guys! Guys, what about my..."

The librarian hushed Steve, irritated. Steve groaned in defeat.

"...godly choices. Yeah, fine," Steve slumped back on his seat. "I need to find non-nerd friends."

Two days later, Robin and Dustin finished translating a slim, dusty book. They were nearly vibrating in their seats as Steve reviewed their notes on what they found. Dustin gripped his arm and gave him a shake.

"So? What do you think?" he asked excitedly.

Robin slung her arm across Steve's shoulders. With more tenderness than Steve expected, she said, "I know it doesn't seem like it, he doesn't really fit with your whole style, but it could work."

"Yeah," Steve said with a hopeful smile. "Yeah, this feels right."

--

It took longer than Steve would've liked, but eventually he managed to track down a small, crumbling shrine. It was an alcove carved near the entrance--no more than a crack in the stone really--of a cave at the edge of a lush forest. He almost missed it, it was so drowned in overgrown crawling vines and weeds. It bore a modest statue, no bigger than Steve, standing atop an equally modest plinth. There was a spot that obviously held a plaque once, but it must’ve been dug out by thieves at some point.

The sight of it made something in Steve's chest twinge; a strange pang of melancholy at seeing a god so forgotten and abandoned. It surprised him as he had never been particularly religious, but there was just something about this one that drew him in.

It was the middle of the day, so Steve quickly made camp and took advantage of the light to begin clearing the shrine. He started where the plaque had been, scrubbing off the dirt and moss that had filled the indentation. He knew a good smith; he could commission a new plaque to be made. After that, he weeded the immediate area around the plinth where worshipers would typically lay their offerings and pray.

By the time he finished that, it was late afternoon and he decided that was good enough for today. He had to eat and get a few hours of sleep so he could be alert once night fell. When he curled up on his bedroll, he couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. He was going to offer himself to his god tonight, and with any luck, his god would accept him.

--

He woke to a multitude of high pitched squeaks and the sound of many, many flapping wings. The sun had just fully set, and the stars that could be seen through the canopy burned brightly. Steve took his time to fasten on his armor and scabbard properly, and fixed his hair so not a strand was out of place. He took a few deep breaths to calm an unexpected bout of nerves before going to the shrine and kneeling.

His god had no official prayers. Or rather, the prayers for his god were forgotten. Robin and Dustin did their best to find anything prayer-like but it had been in vain. They suspected that most of the god's holy items and lore were purposely lost. Lacking that, Steve decided it was best that he introduce himself.

"Um, hi," he started and immediately winced. "Sorry. I'm not used to...this. I couldn't find any of your…holy words? Prayers? The right ways to speak to you, I guess.

"I'm Steve. Steve Harrington. I'm a fighter. I finished my training a few weeks back. I was the top of my cohort when it came to combat. I'm good with my sword and I know how to take a hit. I can turn just about anything into a weapon if it's needed."

Here Steve paused for a moment, straining to hear but there was nothing other than the typical sounds of a night out in the woods. Steve took a breath and plowed forward.

"I want to be more than a fighter, though. I don't want to just wave a sword around for nothing. I want it to...to matter. So I spent a lot of time trying to decide who to wield my sword for. It took me a while, but I found you. I want to be your shield and sword, if you'll have me."

Steve stopped again to listen. Nothing. Robin warned him this might happen. Gods didn't always accept warriors who offered themselves to them, and forgotten gods weren't always reachable. It was fine, though; he’d try again tomorrow night. Steve turned in just before dawn, eager for night again.

--

Steve worked on clearing the vines tangled around the statue's legs and feet. He yanked out the thick, scraggly vines, and carefully picked apart the prickling thorny ones. There was a particular gnarl of vines that didn't seem like they had a stranglehold on his god's statue. They were healthy and strong, and the way they curled and grew looked more like a caress than an invasion. He decided to leave those on, though he gently rearranged them while removing the more invasive vines so they looked more decorative.

When night arrived with the sound of squeaks and wings, Steve went to kneel at the shrine. He introduced himself again, gave the same spiel as the night before. Still he heard nothing. He scratched the back of his neck in mild insecurity.

“I guess I should tell you I didn’t find you on my own. My friends Robin and Dustin helped me. They’re way smarter than me, you know? Total nerds. I can swing a sword like nothing, but books and research? Yeah, that never works out for me, so they helped me look up all sorts of gods.

“There’s a lot of them. Way more than I thought. Dustin and Robin both recommended me ones or vetoed others. They were getting frustrated with me because I kept rejecting the ones they gave me. 

“Then Robin found you. Kind of by accident, to be honest. But she did her research thing and I knew that I wanted to carry your symbol. It took me forever to find this shrine. Robin said this was probably the only shrine you had left, so I had to find it. 

“Dustin kept saying it was on the other side of the forest, but obviously he was wrong. Not that he’ll ever admit it, the little shit, but whatever. I’m sorry your shrine was abandoned like this, but I promise I’ll fix it up. I’m good with my hands, I can do it.”

There was no response to his admittedly disorganized ramble. It was fine, he told himself. He needed to be patient. He’d come back the next night.

–

Around the statue’s waist there was another tangled mess of vines, except these vines had died and rotted to dark sludge. There was fungus growing on it, and it reeked. It was gross. Steve scrubbed at it for hours because the rot had stained the stone. He was able to get rid of the rot and most of the stains before going to catch a few hours of sleep in the afternoon.

Night fell and Steve was kneeling for the third time. He repeated most of what he said the previous two nights. There was still no response. He thought maybe he was pushing too hard. He’d never been the super talkative type anyway. He could share the quiet night with his god, if that was what his god wanted.

A few hours passed when he was startled out of his near meditative state by the sound of snapping twigs. He leapt to his feet, hand on his scabbard. Someone–a man by the look of it–stumbled out of the woods. He was pale and dark haired, dressed in ragged clothes that were probably awful even when they were new. He looked like a vagabond. 

Steve stepped in front of the shrine, protectively. The stranger grinned at him and Steve could already tell he was not going to enjoy the conversation that was about to happen.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Steve asked firmly, cutting the man off before he could speak. The smile only grew wider.

“I could ask you the same thing, sir,” the man said, adopting the annoyed huff of a wealthy lord. Steve scowled.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second!”

“You didn’t ask me anything,” Steve responded, somewhat smug. The man paused and then snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Steve repeated shortly. The teasing grin was back, and Steve felt his scowl deepen.

“Nothing and no one, m’lord,” the man bows mockingly.

“I’m not a lord.”

“Huh. Could’ve fooled me. You’re certainly as demanding as any lord I’ve ever met.”

“Oh fuck you,” Steve snapped. “I’m a holy warrior.”

The man laughed at him outright.

“Well that doesn’t sound very holy warrior-ish. Are your type allowed to swear?”

Steve grinded his teeth and decided it was not worth it to continue this conversation for much longer.

“Look, if you’re here to steal, I’ve got nothing on me.”

“That’s exactly what someone with something to steal would say.”

“Well, I don’t! I’m on a pilgrimage and I don’t want to spill blood on holy ground. So.” Steve wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. “Leave. Please.”

“Holy ground? Here?” the man barks out a laugh. “Don’t you know what this place is?”

“Yes,” Steve says shortly, placing himself more firmly between the shrine and the man. “Please leave. There shouldn’t be violence done here.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that. This place used to belong to the King of Darkness. It’s said he was so evil that nothing grew here until he was run out and defeated by the god of righteousness. You know the one. Really plays up the holier than thou thing by making his hair all gold and glowy? Gotta say, you could give him a run for his money though.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No really! Your hair is great. Way better than Carver, even with the glowy thing.” 

“Not that!” Steve said in frustration. This guy really liked the sound of his own voice and Steve was starting to get a headache. It was near dawn and all he wanted was to spend the last hour or so in the quiet night with his god.

“So you agree your hair is better than a god’s?” The man tsks at him. “That’s pretty blasphemous. Are you sure you’re a holy warrior?”

“No! I mean, yes. Wait,” Steve growls at his own bumbling. “No, I’m not better than any god. But I am a holy warrior. Kind of.”

“Kind of.”

“Look, I’m working on it so I need you to leave. You’ve insulted him enough already.”

“Your god is the King of Dark–”

“Call him that again, and I will draw my sword,” Steve said, voice steely. “He’s the Lord of Night, and I won’t let you insult him at his own shrine.”

The man goes quiet for the first time since he showed up. He looked almost surprised, his mocking grin gone. His eyes flicked over to the dilapidated statue and then back at Steve.

“Lord of Night doesn’t sound much different than what I called him,” the man said lightly.

“Well, it is,” Steve told him. “Now, will you please leave?”

The man stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, alright.” And then he left as suddenly as he had arrived.

The tension that had built up in Steve’s shoulders drained away. He went back to kneel in front of the shrine again when he noticed the barest hint of sunrise on the horizon. He cursed under his breath then was hit with a wave of embarrassment at cursing in front of the shrine and the whole situation that had transpired.

“I’m sorry about that,” Steve said, abashed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

–

It happened again.

now with an additional snippet here and here

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you'd like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

[cranberrymoons]

buck finding out that marisol is moving in with eddie when and how he does??? is crazy crazy work. he is already mid-panic spiral about the possibility of being forced to come out to eddie right here right now (being outed!!!!! that’s what we call that btw, okay, buck buckley on the verge of being outed) and it’s happening in front of this woman he barely knows. and just, what, three days ago? he finished going through the emotional upheaval of the sleeper agent activation of every single one of his most deep seated personal insecurities about being replaceable in eddie’s life. and also he sprained eddie’s ankle. and also he’s bisexual now of all things. and he’s sitting here with this guy he barely knows and looking at this woman he barely knows, and eddie standing in between them, and eddie says “oh btw marisol agreed to move in! isn’t that great” and buck is now hearing kill bill sirens in his head because he thought he got past all this LAST week and now here it is again and she’s doing what??? she’s moving in?? and you’re telling me like this right now right here that she’s just going to live in our family home?? because that’s what eddie’s house is to him!!!! and now buck has to do rapid life calculus about the logistics of having eddie and chris over to his stupid loft four times per week for dinner and movies and homework time and he doesn’t even have a couch. or is marisol just invited to family dinner now??????? is he going to go over to eddie’s house like normal and cook dinner for four?? and meanwhile helicopter boy is there making closet jokes, and they’re intentionally btw *intentionally* for sake of privacy at a restaurant that’s far away from buck’s neighborhood. that comes up in the maddie coming out scene, that they went out of their way to make things feel a little less scary for buck by going somewhere in a different neighborhood. so they’re in an unfamiliar place and Buck has just found out this horrible weird news that makes his chest feel horrible and weird, and then to top it all off he gets left standing on the curb while stupid eddie is inside having dinner with the woman who is apparently moving into their home!!!!! ugh.