#his fucking EYES tho he does the sad tears in the eyes but otherwise straight faced thing SO WELL.

[ultravioletlesbian]

i’m rewatching r*swell new m*xico bc i’ve missed the storyline even tho i don’t...like the characters much....the acting isn’t great but there are moments where it seems they know what they’re doing??? they’re 90% held back by the script but also istg they only picked these actor’s because they’re good looking HOWEVER the chemistry SUCKS. it SUCKS!! the romantic chemistry especially and i mean between EVERYONE like this is crazy why am i skipping every romantic esque scene that’s crazy. the romantic chemistry is soooo bad between them all ALL. EXCEPT!!!!!!! for izzie’s birth mother and the foreman back in the 1940s why couldn’t we see more of that...i’m only in this for the story but i remember that gets worse but like their moms managing to run away and hiding for a year and maria being descended from yknow who and the mystery of things etc awesome love it but i remember i stopped watching when they did that whole max evil clone thing and alex with the secret agency whatever like BORING.

[deeplyobsessed]

ok so i’m gonna ramble in sections

section 1: cgi moustache

FUCKING HILARIOUS like it was so bad it was funny HELP also buck’s hair was season 8 hair too it’s so funny like WHY did they reuse this HAHA

section 2: confession part 1

as short of a scene as it was, this was really nicely shot imo. and the tears in eddie’s eyes when he spoke like RYAN GUZMAN UR SO GOOD. but also how does buck (best friend) rank about girlfriend like hmmmmmmm

section 3: FUCKING ABBY

I CLOCKED IT I KNEW IT i know we always joke about 911 having continuity issues but THIS was such a good way to call back season 1 like insane writing tim minear and i love u for it

section 4: the divorce call

i wish they did more with this call like there was potential to call back to eddie/shannon but they didn’t. other than that i think honestly this is one of the grossest calls they’ve ever been on like genuinely icked the hell out of me with the guts like ugh gross

section 5: josh’s speech

as much as people hate on tommy, i do think josh’s explanation of things does give some sort of context to the way tommy acted in the past. like yeah racism and sexism is bad don’t get me wrong, but tommy did make an effort to change. it’s just that with society and his own work place back then, tommy prob had a lot of internalised homophobia that he expressed negatively outward to others (chim and hen in particular). but josh made a very good point with his speech about pre glee and post glee world (great reference, 10/10) and i think this was one of my favourite parts of this episode

section 6: confession part 2

ok first of all there was literally NO NEED to add that “im straight” “im celibate” part. like that was intentionally written into the script for something bcos that entire section could have been done without the sexuality mention. tim minear i see you. other than that FATHER BRIAN YOU ARE SPEAKING FACTS. my fav line he said was “but we can’t take care of others if we don’t first take care of ourselves”. bcos this is true!! and also a line used in therapy a lot cough. anyway i think the conversation eddie had with the priest was like a wake up call to eddie to start getting his head out of his ass and start working towards something. love this scene 10/10

section 7: brothers and pipes

most of this call was focused on the brothers part more than the well scene call back, tho there was a throw away line from bobby to eddie about how (eddie) wouldn’t fit this time. i do wonder if this happened irl would fire departments legally be authorised to allow children to help with rescues tho. otherwise honestly this was a very cute scene that helped chim get some introspection. i do wish there was more of a well scene call back tho :(

section 8: buck tommy breakup

as a buddie fan, i am overjoyed. but as a buck fan, i am devastated. tommy is actually one of my favourite love interests for buck, and its not just because he’s a dude and sexual awakening all that. i genuinely do think buck and tommy could have had a lot of potential if the show had decided to go through with it, but at the same time ending it here was also a relatively good note. i think in this relationship it wasn’t actually buck who wasn’t ready, it was tommy. tommy is afraid of things not working out in the long run bcos he doesn’t believe in buck’s affection for him being long term. this whole breakup was bcos tommy wasn’t ready imo. i do see the point tommy was trying to make but i also think it was a bit of a dick move to do the whole breakup immediately after buck asked tommy to move in with him. like the timing could have been better tommy. tommy being the one who decided to end things did surprise me tho. but now i feel really sad for buck bcos buck did like tommy a lot, and also as a queer person your first queer relationship is always going to mean a lot to you

section 9: MADNEY MADNEY MADNEY

HOLY MOTHER OF- i didn’t see this coming i didn’t but i am so here for it. the amount of trust and communication between chim and maddie is literal relationship GOALS like they lay out the boundaries and have healthy discussions about having another kid and it’s just so UGHHHH I LOVE YOU also maddie already being pregnant FJSJCKSK MORE BABIES

section 10: eddie, the moustache, and the dance

this. was. everything. the significance of shaving off the moustache. the dancing at the end?? no pants too was a choice. like when eddie flops back onto the couch and you see his smile, it’s like you truly see him deciding to finally forgive himself. maybe not completely, because there’s always going to be some guilt he carries around, but he’s moving forward and i’m so, so happy for him. it’s just a fun goofy feel good scene and i love love love this.

special mention: buddie and the couch

i actually think this is the first time both of them are on the couch together. like sitting next to each other with no one else. RETURN OF THE COUCH THEORY WELCOME BACK. ok but the ending scene?? the way they don’t even need words to communicate like- buck not even bothering to question why eddie doesn’t have pants, and eddie not even questioning why buck is here with beer in the first place. the level of mutual understanding has my HEART IN PIECES

overall this is honestly my fav ep this season and one of my fav eps of all time. i can’t wait to see how the story moves on from here ahhhhhhh

[tinyyoungblood]

ugliest, strangest, and most magnificent | p.parker

➭ headcanon

summary: the avengers and their handwriting

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

warnings: language, mention of suicide letter, pure chaos and crack

a/n: none of these are canon, i’m just having too much fun. but i promise i’m still working on a proper fic lol enjoy x

hc masterlist

* * *

right off the bat, peter’s handwriting is awful. let’s not kid ourselves, that boy is a genius and could not care less about how his notes look like. it’s like he has taken on a very personal quest to compete with every doctor in the country to see who can be the most incoherent. it’s scary

it’s so bad that no one even asks peter for his class notes anymore because, well, for one thing, that boy barely attends classes, and for another, trying to make out what it says will blind you and permeate your eyelids

it is worse than staring death in the face (source: “still horrified and sad” loki)

y/n is probably the only person who can read peter’s medical shorthand. she has absolutely zero (0) problems reading it and the avengers are BAFFLED

she can pick up peter’s notebooks and read them aloud like they’re typed in double spaced 12 pt. times new roman

no she will not explain how or why

this one time, peter helped morgan make really ~extravagant~ christmas cards with glitter and fake snow (it was GREAT) but since she’s like 4 and can’t write, he wrote sweet little words inside the cards for her and then gave it to tony and steve

tony, with tears in his eyes: “this is beautiful, thank you. i’ve never seen anything more beautiful”

steve, whispering: “your eyes are burning too, right?” “i can’t even tell if it’s nonsensical symbols or witchcraft???”

tony’s handwriting is surprisingly neat? like, actually…quite nice

no one really knows why, but he has this thing where the letters just have to be the same size, on a straight line, and tilting at the same angle otherwise he will have a nervous breakdown and fight you in the nearest parking lot (as you do when being confronted with any inconvenience as a grown adult and avenger)

but because that is too stressful, tony barely writes down anything. ever. he just tells F.R.I.D.A.Y. to set a reminder and calls it a day. last time he picked up a pen was in 2009 and that was just because he couldn’t reach an itching spot on his back

the one time he does write something down though, hell breaks loose

“wait is tony holding a pen?” “tony are you writing? am i seeing things? are you ok—are you dying?? let me get the others DON’T MOVE” *distant crashing sound* “gUYS—”

two seconds later, everyone is huddled around tony, straining their necks, and trying to get a glimpse at his little piece of paper

“what do you think it is? a love letter?” “maybe a heartfelt complaint” “probably a plan for world domination” “he’s got those on flash drives, it’s a suicide note” “it’s a grocery list. fuck you guys”

thor has the handwriting of a little child

it’s precious. it makes all his letters and postcards from Out Of Space™️ look like they were written using the comic sans font. he also adds an excessive amount of stardust. it’s wonderful

steve’s handwriting is your typical average jo. he’s an ~artist~ and he is american so he mainly writes in capital letters because he thinks it’s Patriotic and Aesthetically Pleasing

he’s also the only one who will pick up the newspaper in the morning, but it’s mainly because of the crossword puzzles because!! boy oh boy!! he LOVES them!!

he thinks they are SPLENDID and MIND STIMULATING and even though he does have the brains for it, sometimes there are gaps that he just can’t fill, so he writes down anything in fat capital block letters and casually thrusts it in other people’s faces

then he runs off so no one can see his actual answers like cardi b being a jeopardy star

bucky barnes has the handwriting of a founding father

the others find out about this because y/n had asked him to write down a recipe for her since she had broken her arm, so he did, but she just never had the chance to look at it

until one day, y/n whips out that recipe out in the kitchen and peter is standing behind her

“is that……the constitution??”

it’s not, but bucky really got into calligraphy when he was in wakanda. at first, he only did it for fun during his free time with the goats

but now he feels confident in his cursive and doesn’t see why he shouldn’t use it daily

and the more bucky practices, the more he ~dresses up~ his letters

so what starts out as readable-to-the-average-person cursive turns into what looks like 9 loops and random swirls of hell

he LOVES it

and the avengers can tell that he loves it so they keep making up excuses for him to write out stuff for them just to see the little glint in his eyes

“bucky, can you sign this for me?” “why?” “no reason” “peter, i’m not your legal guardian? aunt may has to sign this” “just write down her name” “what??” “i can see you want to. just do it” *proceeds to happily forge signature*

it doesn’t even matter that everyone kinda struggles to read bucky’s pretentious cursive. it’s beautiful. and if you squint really hard, you’ll get the gist

“y/n, bucky left me a sticky note that just says punk. do you know why?” “does it matter? it looks like a prop from a period drama. frame it”

the only person who’s not impressed by bucky’s handwriting is tony alias mr. practical

tony needs everyone to fill out some forms and while handing them out, he looks bucky directly in the eyes to say “and make sure us peasants can read it”

but one day, when tony’s sick and stuck in his room, peter and y/n have the idea to make a little card for tony to wish him a speedy recovery and everyone has to sign it and write a little message

so that’s how tony ends up with the ugliest, strangest, and most magnificent card the world has ever seen. ~handmade~ by the avengers

there’s stardust, and glitter, and neon paint, and a clash of 20 very distinctive and one-of-a-kind handwritings

tony tries to brush it off, but to this day it may or may not still be on his night stand at all times so he can look at it every night before going to bed <3

* * *

am i going to make a series out of this even tho no one asked for it? yes. yes, i am. i hope you guys like reading them just as much as i like writing them bc i’m not going to stop lol thanks for reading! stay hydrated <3

[inkykeiji]

hi clari! how do you think dabi would like to be comforted? we know this man has a baggage of traumas and i was quite curious. i think you'd end up picking up signs he's not okay, and try talk to him about it or distract him like making a movie night or convicing him to cuddle, because he wouldn't go to you for help, probably. he's just closed about emotions, so he copes by bottling up.

oh god anon u really out here tryna HURT ME HUH okay okay you’d definitely have to work up to it n he’d become more open as he becomes more comfortable to accept your comfort. once he realizes how NICE skinship with u is he starts seeking it out more, tho. UHHHHH fair warning this drabble turned into a lil bit of angst???? it was supposed to be sweet n cute butttttttt that’s just not how it turned out lmfao

TW: one mention of cum, uuuh some angst, it’s still kinda cute in an angsty way i guess??? idk dabi’s a closet Sad Boi™️ to me

words: 814

Something’s wrong, off—it has to be, because he isn’t acting right—you can see it in his walk, in the way he’s dragging his feet more than normal, boots scraping against the dusty hardwood; feel it in his eyes, navy darker than the depths of space itself, consuming everything their gaze lands on, sucking all of it in until there’s nothing left like voracious black holes; hear it in his voice, in the clipped tone he rarely ever uses with you.

At first, he resists. He doesn’t need your help, he spits, before you’re even done stuttering through your sentence, he doesn’t want it. There’s nothing wrong, leave him alone. So you back off, you give him space—maybe it was just a one-time thing, maybe he really is fine and you misread the signals.

But then it happens again, and he’s acting the exact same way, but worse. His shoulders are tense, back rigid, permanent scowl etched into his face with a glare that could kill on sight.

“You can’t do anything fucking right, can you?” he snaps at you for nearly nothing, almost no reason at all as you pass him in the moonlight illuminated hall, shoulder accidentally knocking against his as you keep timid eyes on your fuzzy slippers, sharp voice slicing through the air, slashing straight through your flesh, your heart.

But his harsh words don’t deter you, a soft rush of air escaping your parted lips in a gasp, wide eyes finding his. You don’t apologize. You don’t patronize, either, gaze full of sympathy but void of pity, staring at him in that steadfast, impenitent way that is so uniquely you, soft but never fearful, even though your voice quivers a little when you offer to watch a movie with him, ignoring his outburst entirely.

It’s what he loves and hates most about you.

It starts slow, as most things do with him. It starts with just sitting beside him and watching one of his favourite films, close enough that your thighs are pressed against one another, but not touching otherwise. And for a while, that’s enough for him. He’s quiet about it, doesn’t say anything when he walks into your tiny, shared living room and just throws on whatever he wants to before sitting down next to you, side pressed up tightly against yours.

And that’s okay, really, if that’s all he needs to feel better. You’re happy to help in any capacity, and giddiness bubbles in your chest at the thought. All you want is for him to feel better, for his face to relax again, for his vibrant eyes to become lidded and carefree, for his lips to quirk back up into that trademark smirk.

But eventually, as most things are with him, it isn’t enough.

Dabi’s greedy. He knows he is, latches onto you like a parasite the moment he realizes you make him feel better, even if he doesn’t know how or why. He doesn’t care, isn’t interested in finding out the reasons, isn’t ready to find out the reasons. Instead, he just takes, and takes, and takes, and you’re happy to give—eager to provide him with whatever he needs, anything to ease the torment on his face, even if it’s only for a few hours.

He feels like he can breathe again with you, when he’s around you, basking in your presence, ravenous eyes drinking in your light, your kindness, your very aura itself, breathing it in and letting it fill his lungs, heat his chest, flood his entire body with a warmth he’s never felt before. It’s new, it’s terrifying, it’s addicting.

It all progresses quickly, from old movies on that ratty couch to being trapped beneath his body on your bed, after he realizes how good it feels—how nice it is to have your hands in his hair, on his chest, on his thighs, down his pants; how nice it feels to have your lips pressed against his, little tongue battling his, inhaling your sweet breath and the pretty little sounds he manages to pull from you.

You don’t know what it is, this thing that’s hurting him so much, that’s tearing him up inside more and more frequently, that has him whimpering against you in the dead of night after he’s filled you with cum, little huffs of shuddering breath exhaled against your clammy skin as you silently coax him through it with tender touches and gentle kisses, but you decide that it’s none of your business either way. He’ll tell you when he’s ready to. For now, all you can do—the best thing for you to do—is to be there for him, to provide him with the quiet, unobtrusive love he so desperately craves, even if he isn’t exactly ready to admit it to himself yet. One day, he will. And when he does, he’ll thank you, too.

[jesslivesau]

jess au @iloveeverythingwaytoomuch

pre show jess: doesn't know anything except that sam told her some fucked up shit and she didn't really believe him much like amelia didn't believe jimmy but what's clear to her is that sam's upbringing was deeply fucked up in what might've been some kind of apocalypse doomsday cult and she can say "sam, it wasn't real" as much as she can til she's blue in the face but it isn't going to change the fact that sam is Deeply Fucked Up by Shit. and it upsets her and confuses her but he does a good job of setting it aside or knowing when to give in and he's such a sweet and Loving Dude otherwise so she just files it away in her bf trauma bank and keeps cheering him on

s1 jess: your bf's CRAZY brother shows up says he needs help finding your bf's CRAZY dad who may or may not have been part of a doomsday cult and you say, bitch i watched the heaven's gate documentary there is NO WAY i'm letting you leave with him, but he's not gonna Stay cuz he insists it's just for one night (and his brother DOES seem relatively stable, like, as a person), so jess insists she'll go too. while she's in the back seat sam tells dean he told her everything dean's like lol. sure. you believe in ghosts, sweetheart? and jess is like no but i do believe that i'll kick your ass if we don't get home in time for sam's interview tomorrow morning. and then the whole white woman thing happens and she's like oh fuck it's REAL but they DO GO HOME and instead of jess dying on the ceiling there's like idk ghost mary on the ceiling or some shit and they NARROWLY escape the fire together andddd idk they can't go back to stanford cuz it's not safe and their apartment complex literally went up in flames. there’s a more complex reason here but idk what it is. maybe it was brady (demon brady) who died or something IDK LISTEN ITS JUST AN AU

anyway all of season 1 when they’re trying to track down john jess is the voice of reason asking why do they need john in the first place? And eventually sam is like listen we don’t need HIM but if he’s got research on where yellow eyes is, that’s what we need. and dean is mad about that and he’s mad at jess and they bicker like crazy. and sam sleeps on the floor because dean is like dude cmon. don’t make me sleep in the same room as you and your gf together. maybe meg gets replaced by meg possessing jess, and she doesn’t get thrown out the window so when they exorcise her she just needs a hospital and then she’ll be ok. and that would explain why she’s in the hospital and not there for the finale, but can meet up with sam & john & dean in the hospital after

s2 jess: sam is so consumed by grief and fear that jess is actually the first one to notice that dean’s spirit might still be still Around. i’m imagining a scene where sam is asleep next to dean’s bed and jess is awake, and she slowly looks around towards dean and you see ghost!dean Connecting with her for the first time

obviously, all the grief episodes keep happening. maybe jess got seriously hurt as well tbh so she goes back to her parents house to recover; there’s an episode where the boys go meet her parents and dean and sam’s Daddy Issues come out in full force. eventually jess is back and kicking ass and slowly getting along more with dean, partially perhaps because of dean’s Grief Response to john’s death, which is that all the anger and hate comes bubbling up, and jess is like i don’t fucking know this dude, but from what sam’s told me, i hate him, which is not something that sam is in a position to Deal With right now. things proceed pretty much along the course

i am considering now if jess could also be a special child. she also has some kind of psychic abilities but i’d have to choose something cool for her. anyway if she IS then that gets her in the town with sam in all hell breaks loose which i think is the best place for her during that arc? i know all the other special children supposedly had to die but maybe her psychic power was to go inviisble or something lmfao i don’t fucking know. anyway dean has his sad monologue but jess either (a) fully shuts down or (b) just goes STRAIGHT to hunt down whatever the fuck his name is. jake? leverage man? that would be dope actually. and then actually dean, sam, bobby, and ellen actually meet her at the hell’s gate

s3 jess: truly does not understand why they’re hunting. gets into arguments with the boys all the time about how this is pointless, if you’re not gonna try and save yourself then why can’t you just put it down and let yourself have this year?? and dean’s a little bit like you know what jessica that makes a lot of damn sense. but it makes sam mad and they argue a lot about it and jess probably takes off halfway through the season. maybe after malleus maleficarum? partly cuz that’s the ep where ruby more or less becomes part of the team and also when she confirms that she can’t save dean from hell. and i just feel like jess would be like i cannot.... Sit Here.... and watch you both drive yourself into the ground. dean, if you’re gonna die, sam’s coming after you. you knew that. you just didn’t want him to go first.

maybe dean hits her lmfao and sam screams at him for it and jess just Walks Away, tearfully

s4 jess: so jess bailed midway through s3, but when dean wakes up and starts making calls in that phonebooth, he calls bobby and bobby hangs up, so he calls jess. and she comes and gets him.

jess and sam are obviously not together anymore, but jess is totally civil with sam and even with ruby. she’s like we can work together, it’s fine, whatever. and this is the season where dean and jess really bond and become a good Team. and cas is just usually confused why jess is Around but eventually gets used to her. i’ve toyed with jess being jewish which would lend a good and also funny perspective to all the heaven and hell stuff

jess heard about hell first from dean, but not the specifics of the stuff that dean told sam, not until after on the head of a pin. she’s their Lore Expert on seals and is trying to identify as many of them as possible so they can put in place safeguards, and maybe that bumps her up against angel priorities for an episode. maybe we get an episode where cas has to Threaten her 00 and he can say something like sam and dean are important..... you are not. remember that. and then [flappy wings vanish]

uhhhh jess’s siren in the siren episode....... is just like a carbon copy of sam lmfao. which is extremely funny and sam and jess will both kind of awkwardly clear their throats and not address that. i guess jess is just fucking stuck with bobby during the finale because the point of her presence is that she’s so USELESS to both demons and angels

s5 jess:  i’d probably add in an early episode where her parents are killed, probably by demons because the demons know they can’t touch the winchesters due to angel shit but they can fuck up jess as much as they want. then when sam and dean temporarily split up jess would go with dean cuz she’s a hunter now and has nowhere else to go and it doesn’t feel right to just sit around with sam. or maybe she also leaves and splits up and doesn’t stick with dean cuz she’s processing her own traumatic shit. at any rate, early in the season there’s a moment where sam is Gone and dean and jess are drinking together and talking about their feelings and they have a moment where they gaze at each other in the eyes and almost lean towards each other.... then jess goes you know what? this is fucking weird and dean is like oh thank god you said that absolutely this is too weird

in The End, it’s revealed that jess was killed and no one will tell dean more information or talk about her until he finds out that she was pregnant when she was killed (presumably with sammifer’s baby)

in changing channels they get put into a telenovela and sam and jess have an tearful emotionally charged confession scene in spanish. this is about when sam and jess finally get back together [cue cheering]

in the chuck eps it’s revealed chuck rewrote it so that jess died on the ceiling in the first book cuz he was like “i just didn’t think it made sense for her to be alive! it was literary symmetry that’s all!”

in sam, interrupted when sam is all high on meds that’s when he says lots of kooky sweet shit to jess about wanting to MARRY her and have a FAMILY together and it’s sweet and also dean throws up in his mouth a little bit having to hear it

in my bloody valentine the thing that jess is hungry for is Family but i do not know the logistics of how

in dark side of the moon jess does die with the boys but it takes a while to find her, tho they eventually do in one of sam’s favorite memories (probably from the first time they met or something). she’s like what the fuck i’m jewish

no, i have no clue how she factors into swan song. she just does, ok. lucifer can snap her neck along with bobby’s

s6 jess: she tried to check in with dean occasionally at the braedens, and actually had dinner with them once but started checking in less and less as the year went on, and it turns out she knew that sam was back and she’d been hunting with him + the campbells and a couple things

when dean finds out he is truly FURIOUS, but jess is like dean i saw you with lisa and ben! i saw you getting better! i saw you happy, i saw you ok, and hell i’ve only known you since you showed up in palo alto five years ago but it was the most at peace i’ve ever seen you, and i couldn’t take that away from you, and neither could sam.

she’s also like yes, dean, he’s different, he’s colder, it makes me sad but who was the one who put up with YOU when you were spiralling after your dad’s death? or when you were all buttoned up after you came back from hell? he did! so show him a god damn OUNCE of empathy, would you!

and when they find out he’s soulless jess is like. hm. and dean is like i TOLD you there was something wrong with him!!! and jess is like i mean.... yeah....... and maybe i didn’t really want to admit it... cuz.... the sex was So good.........

[soulless sam winks at her]

anyway, s6 happens the way it happens and that’s fine

s7: the only important thing that happens in s7 is that Season Seven, It’s Time For a Wedding! is actually about some sort of monster and the only way to kill it is to cast a spell but the spell must be cast by “two warriors joined before god” which means married and cas is awkward about it cuz he doesn’t want to Presume Anything 

and the whole episode is lots of sam and jess being like “i mean, of course, if you want to..... .like, but if you DON’T, that’s also totally fine, of course.... you know.... whatever you’re comfortable with” until finally they’re in the final battle and cas has to marry them the way barbossa does for will and elizabeth in potc and when dean is pinned against the wall by the monster he goes “DAMMIT JESS WILL YOU KISS MY BROTHER ALREADY” and then sam dips jess in a kiss and the monster is instantly obliterated [heart eyes]

i truly genuinely do not remember anything that happens in s7. anyway jess and sam are married now

s8: sam was with jess the whole year dean was in purgatory. they were struggling to get back to normal life after everything. dean is still fucking mad that sam didn’t go looking for him. i assume everything else goes pretty much according to whatever the fuck happened in s8 except jess at one point has to go to bat for benny cuz sam for some reason hates him so much

i’ve been toying with the idea of jess doing the trials not sam but i mean how can i take that away from my Boy

s9: i do not know anything that happened in this season ):

s10: see above

s11: see above

s12: now i never watched s12, but in this au there is no lucifer’s son jack. instead jess gets pregnant midway through the season; cas finds out first because he can sense it and he’s like why does it feel like there’s an extra being in the bunker, and then he spills to dean cuz he can’t keep a secret, and then dean is like “oh shit what are you gonna do” and jess is like well!!!! sam and i.... talked about this. we were.....open to the possibility. and dean is like wtf how could u possibly bring a child into this world that’s fucked up adn cas is like [wipes tear] that’s beautiful

anyway when they come back from some kind of hunt (probably something that involved claire) and sam and jess are in the bunker, sam goes “jess, seeing claire, seeing jody and the girls.... it makes me think.... i wanna have a family with you” and jess hugs him and then cas walks into the bunker with dean and is like “oh, have you told him about the baby?” and everyone SCREAMS at him

and cas uses his annual miracle allowance to just reverse time about 30 seconds so when he enters the bunker he just goes “i have nothing to say” and Fucking Leaves

the baby is born in the back of the impala in the s12 finale, on the way to the hospital. dean is devastated. he’ll have to reupholster the WHOLE THING. sam accidentally names the baby john but they don’t want to tell dean that so they decide to call him jack.

s13-15 gets to be mostly about how cute it is to have a wittle baby in the bunker. cas is the best babysitter because he loves babies and is very powerful so he can protect him. the occultum nonsense in s15 can be about finding a Safe Place for baby jack, no matter what happens to the rest of the world. sam tells jess, you go with him, you’ll be safe there. dean tells sam, you go with them, you’ll be safe there. all of that good good cute family stuff. was it the best idea to have a baby in the middle of constant apocalypses? maybe not, but like, they are ALWAYS in constant apocalypses, so at some point you just have to bite the bullet

anyway. please clap

[sopewriters]

First and Last | 01

Pairing: Jung Hoseok | J-Hope X Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst; Business!AU

Word Count: 7.3K

Warning(s): Min Yoongi; public sex, thigh-fucking, exhibitionism, slight praise kink, clothed sex, dirty talk, slight degradation

Note: This is the first time in a long time that I’ve written a fic, especially one that passes 3k haha. There should be a second (and maybe third) part, to conclude, so look out for that, I guess. I hope you enjoy reading this tho :)

Even with the light filtering through your window, your apartment looks bleak. Shades of grey coloring every inch of your space, crowding you in when you look for even a sliver of color. Perhaps it’s symbolic of your mood, your worst fears come to life. Perhaps, it’s a sign. A sign that you need to move on, look for a new palette to color your life.

You clutch your blankets closer to yourself, unwilling to part with perhaps the only thing that’s keeping you grounded. Eyes squeezed shut, you inhale deeply, hearing nothing but the sound of your steadily thumping heart. A sign that you’re alive, even after everything that’s happened.

You still remember the day that changed it all. The day that led you down this path…

“Y/N,” Your boss sits behind his desk, mouth in a firm line, “I hope you understand that this is the chance of a lifetime. Other reporters would be falling over themselves for this, but I’m entrusting you with it.”

“I understand, sir.” You nod nervously, forcing yourself not to fidget on the spot, “I’ll try my best.”

“’Trying’ isn’t going to cut it, this time.” He interrupts, dark eyes boring into yours, “You cannot mess this up, understood?”

Your boss looks terrifying at that moment, stern face highlighted in the lavender lighting of his room. You nod once again, before quickly turning tail and leaving the room. You’ve noticed, from experience, that it’s best never to cross the man, or his judgment; not unless you plan on losing your job.

By the time you get back to your desk, you see your friend’s anxious eyes peering at you from the top of the separation of your cubicles. You roll your eyes, knowing that he thinks you’ve been screwed over which, in a way, you have been.

“Well?” He asks you finally, as you nonchalantly work in silence, “What’d he say?”

One brief glance at his wide, worried eyes changes your mind, and you sigh tiredly, before giving him a tight smile.

“Don’t worry, Jimin.” You say reassuringly—or, at least, you hope you do—but Jimin’s expression doesn’t falter in the slightest, “I just got a new project to work on.”

“Really?” He perks up rather adorably, in a way that most of your co-workers would call ‘endearing’, and slouches in obvious relief, “So, what is it then?”

You steel yourself, taking in a deep breath.

“I need to get into the Midsummer Gala. Undercover.”

There’s a brief silence, between the two of you, that makes your skin prickle uncomfortably. Two beats later, you hear a loud, agitated cackle: Jimin, with his hands running through his fire-truck red hair.

“You’re kidding, right?!” He asks you hysterically, panic-stricken smile frozen firmly on his face slowly melting into a desperate, teary look, “Tell me you’re kidding. Please.”

“I wish.” You smile sadly at him, trying to keep your own panicked thoughts away, “I always used to joke around about being a journalist undercover, but now that it’s actually happening…”

You look down at your hands, wringing them anxiously, “It’s terrifying.”

Jimin continues to look at you with his sad brown eyes; almost like he’s already seeing you on your death bed.

“Can you cut the staring, though?” You finally snap at him, before flushing guiltily at his hurt expression, “It’s just… I don’t feel great about this, and your sad eyes are making it worse.”

He cracks a small smile at that, raising an eyebrow, “Sad eyes?”

“Sad EyesTM,” You say, grinning back, though the words don’t alleviate the weight in your chest, “Actually.”

“Okay, okay, so let me get this straight.” Jimin paces in front of you, as you’re perched on your bed, back at your apartment. The sun is setting, though it still manages to cast a pretty glow on his soft features.

“Go ahead.” You interrupt his self-monologue lazily, stretching, though every part of you is tense.

He glares at you for a brief moment, before his eyes soften, and he exhales heavily.

“You basically need to get into the Midsummer Gala: only the biggest and, not to mention, most well-protected celebrity event in the country?”

“Yep.”

“Add to that the fact that you aren’t receiving any external assistance; the Boss said no?”

“Mm-hm.”

“So, basically,” He concludes then, flopping onto the bed with you, “You’re totally fucked. Do you even have a dress for the thing? You know it’s only next week, and you’re gonna need a pretty expensive dress.”

“Oh shit.” You breath out in horror, sitting up straight, “I totally forgot!”

“Oh, so now she panics.” Jimin mutters to himself, before sitting up with you, “Did the Boss say why you’re going in?”

“Oh, he wants me to get an interview or something with the CEO of Jung & Co.” You release, “Or, at the very least, a report of the general happenings. Celebrity gossip. You know the deal.”

“I thought you wanted to be an editorial writer, not a…” Jimin’s mouth scrunches as he bites out, “A gossip columnist.”

“What can I do?” You complain somberly, flopping back onto the bed, “I’ve got to work my way up, Jimin.”

“Yeah, I’m much happier in the Music section.” Jimin counters, “I’ll look around for someone to help you. I don’t care what our boss says: this would be a suicide mission otherwise.”

“Thank you.” You whisper gratefully, before throwing your arm around your friend’s warm body, “Thank you so, so much.”

“You owe me.” He grumbles, but you can hear the smile in his voice even so.

It turns out that Jimin manages to find you someone who can get you in.

“You realize,” You say slowly, after he tells you the news giddily, “That all this time…you could have gotten in if you wanted to?”

“And do what?” Jimin scoffs, nose upturned haughtily, “I’m already living a lavish life.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, and start guffawing helplessly, to the point that tears spring into your eyes. It’s not even really that funny; it’s just that…it’s been so long since you’ve been able to relax even the slightest bit.

“Oh man,” You wipe your eyes quickly, still giggling, “Don’t pull that on me ever again, Park Jimin.”

“Pull what?” He looks at you innocently, making you cuff him at his neck, “OW! Okay, okay, I get it!”

“That’s what I thought.” You huff, before there’s a lull in conversation, “The party is on Friday night, and today’s…”

“Tuesday.” Jimin supplies helpfully, “Meaning you’ve got roughly two-and-a-half days to find the right dress and everything.”

“I think you mean ‘to get money for it’.” You groan, “Shouldn’t the company be paying for this?”

“I think he just wants to fire you.” Jimin says solemnly, and you toss a pillow at him for his efforts, “What, it’s true!”

“Shut up, you aren’t helping.” Rolling your eyes, you stand up and crack your fingers, “I need to start earning some money on the side for this.”

“And,” You continue, startling Jimin when your hands land heavily on his shoulders, “If I don’t get a pay raise when all this is over, I’m going to fuck some bitches up.”

The moment is entirely ruined, of course, when Jimin cracks up.

Your boss, luckily, grants you leave for the next few days, much to your relief. It means you can take on a couple of extra jobs on to buy a suitable dress. With the way things are going, the money you currently have in your account—all from your actual job—is barely enough to buy an acceptable dress. And, if you don’t fit in with the crowd, you’re basically busted from the first step.

Plus, you’ll lose your job, so there’s that.

You work hard, day and night, grinding your weary bones to their limit. You’re honestly done, and a part of you tells you not to do this, to look for another job if need be, but the company you’re at is prestigious, even if the Boss is a slave driver. You have your sights set on this rich, midnight blue gown you saw in a store near your workplace. It’s actually high-end, which is why you need to earn so much. And, gosh, is it hard.

But all your hard work pays off, of course it does. You finally earn enough to safely get that dress, and the elation bubbling in your chest as you leave the store, wallet decidedly empty but arms full, makes you feel happy. Jubilant. Exuberant.

“I did it, Jimin!” You crow excitedly into the phone, arm secure around the package containing your dress, “I…I can’t believe it myself, but I did it!”

“Seriously?” Jimin sounds nearly as excited as you—and why wouldn’t he be? —as he undoubtedly jumps around in happiness, “Everything paid off in the end, didn’t it Y/N?”

“Yeah, it did.” You stand under the store roof’s shade as you smile softly, “You were right, Jimin.”

“Of course, I was.” There’s a pause, before he speaks again, “You know what, we need to celebrate. I’ll come over to your place around 8 and we can—”

“Binge on TV shows?” You cut in eagerly, “Or, oh! Movie marathon!”

“…Yeah, that’s fine.” He sounds amused, “Talk to you later then. Bye.”

There’s still a couple of hours before Jimin comes over, so you decide to stall going home for a bit. Cracking a wide yawn, you aimlessly amble down the street, package tucked securely under your arm again, until you reach your favorite café.

You don’t get to go there as often, now, but you used to be a regular customer. Their caramel macchiato was to die for, and you’re sure it still must be as amazing. And, while you could go to regular coffee joints, you’ll always hold this one close to your heart.

The doors open with a gentle tinkle at your push, and you feel gratified that there isn’t much of a rush today. The café looks just as you remembered, you muse, as you walk. It’s airy and spacious, with lots of windows filtering in the sunlight in order to cast the room in a pleasant glow. There are some new additions, of course; a couple of pictures hung up on the wall, here and there. An odd vase of flowers placed on a table.

Since you’re busy seeing all of this you, obviously, have walk smack into someone. The world spins dizzyingly, as your butt makes a hard contact with the ground, pain spiking up your spine at the impact. Which would be fine, you know, if whoever you crashed into didn’t have coffee. Which is boiling hot, and currently splashed all over your package.

“No!” You cry in dismay, still on the ground. Fumbling fingers hastily tear open the wrapping, and, much to your horror, find that the coffee has soaked through. In essence, there’s a huge, brown spot decorating your beautiful, expensive dress.

“YOU!” You cry, attracting the stare of the few customers standing around; the guy in question, who was trying to leave, suddenly freezes up, and turns around with narrowed eyes, “Look what you did!”

The man is wearing an expensive-looking suit—probably worth your entire paycheck—and has charcoal hair to contrast his white pallor. His dark eyes scream of authority, and judgment: two things you are normally deathly afraid of. But, right now, you feel as if your life has been ripped away from you. By him.

“Excuse me?” He inquires in polite disinterest, though his eyes flash in distaste at the sight of you on the ground, “What did I do? You should have watched where you were going.”

“Watched where—” You laugh hysterically, cutting yourself off, “Are you for real?! This dress is worth more than my normal paycheck and you just ruined it!”

“Just get it dry cleaned, for Christ’s sake.” The man mutters, turning around again, but something overcomes you, and you grasp onto his sleeve with all your strength as you get up.

“I don’t have the time to do that!” You press your lips into a thin line, “I need it by tomorrow!”

Today is Thursday. Tomorrow is Friday: Gala day. And the dry-cleaners would only be able to get it to you by Monday. You are so screwed.

What you do next is something you aren’t proud of (but Jimin is, when you tell him about it). You burst into tears.

The man is clearly taken aback by this, eyes widening in poorly concealed shock. He can hear the murmur of the other customers too, all about the poor girl, she doesn’t deserve this. Hence why he decides to take care of it before it can become a bigger mess.

“Jesus Christ, fine.” He grits out, taking out an expensive looking phone, and tapping away at it, before holding it to his ear.

You watch him, still sniffling, as you struggle to wipe the tears from your eyes and hold your ruined dress at the same time.

“Yeah, I need you to do something for me.” You hear the man mutter into the phone, “I need you to buy a dress…no, I don’t have a fucking girlfriend…measurements?”

He stares at you pensively, making you squirm uncomfortably, before he looks back.

“I’ll send you a picture, yeah.” He finishes, “Thanks, Hobi.”

He looks at his phone for a brief second, before meeting your confused eyes.

“I need to take a picture of you for the measurements. And I’ll need your address as well.”

“Measurements?” You ask in alarm, “Address?”

“Yes, for your new dress.” He rolls his eyes, “I can’t deal with a crying woman, right now.”

“New…dress?” You stutter to yourself, and only react when the man is putting his phone down, picture already taken, “Hey!”

“Relax.” He rolls his eyes, “Address?”

“How am I supposed to trust you?” Your heart thumps in fear, “What if you’re some kind of creep?”

He looks like he’s seriously pondering that, before he reaches his hand into his suit pocket and pulling something out: a business card.

It’s got some fancy sort of embroidery, and you look at it:

  Jung & Co.

Min Yoongi

Director of Finances

Phone Number: +82-9-873-XXXX

Jung & Co…? It sounds familiar, and your eyes grow wide when you realize that this is the company that you’re supposed to interview tomorrow. Min Yoongi doesn’t seem to care as you gawk uselessly at the card, and only raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you going to stand there all day?”

“Uh, right.” You clear your throat nervously, and recite your address, which he taps into his sleek phone with quick fingers.

“You’ll get it by tomorrow morning, at the latest.” He tells you, continuing his way out.

You don’t get to say anything in response, only left staring at the formidable man’s back with a coffee-stained dress in hand, until he disappears.

“You met Min Yoongi?!” Jimin shrieks in excitement when you tell him about everything, that night, “The Min Yoongi?”

“Yeah, he’s a director in Jung & Co.” You say sadly, staring at Kat Dennings’ frozen face on TV, “I hope he doesn’t turn up tomorrow.”

“Why wouldn’t he turn up?!” Jimin’s eyes grow wide with shock, “Y/N, he’s CEO Jung’s oldest son!”

“…What?” You question blankly, unable to process those words.

“I can’t believe this.” Jimin mutters to himself, before raising his voice, “Y/N, the CEO has three sons: Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok and Jung Jungkook.”

“Why do they have different surnames?” Your face twists in confusion, and he sighs.

“He had two wives. Jungkook and Yoongi have the same mother, but Yoongi chose to take on his mother’s maiden name.”

“Yikes.” You scrunch your nose in distaste, “I should…probably research more about the company, before tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” He looks at you, eyes piercing, “You should. The marathon can wait.”

“Yeah.”

Your conviction lasts for all of two seconds, before you flop back.

“What the hell, just press play!”

“I can do this.” You chant to yourself, as you stare at the large, sprawling mansion in front of you, “Damn it, I should have done my research.”

Then, your mind flashes back to last night, and you giggle lightly to yourself. Never mind, you don’t regret it.

You’re currently standing at the entrance to the party venue, having gotten through security with some help from Jimin’s godsend (“Kim Taehyung, at your service!”). You’re draped in a beautiful purple dress that shimmers wonderfully in the light, which undoubtedly costs more than your midnight dress did.

You remember nearly choking on your spit when you took the garment out of its package, in the morning. It was…not a very delightful experience, needless to say. But the dress truly is beautiful: it was then, and it is now.

“I could’ve done with a partner, for this thing.” You murmur to yourself, as you walk in through the grandiose entrance. However, there’s no time to complain further, nor is it possible, because your breath is taken away, just one step in.

“Holy shit.” You breathe out, “Holy shit.”

It is the epitome of all things expensive. Of everything you’ve seen in the movies; a wide, arching ceiling, with golden-white chandeliers hanging from them, a bubbling fountain as a centerpiece, decorated with pearls. The party guests, of course, wearing their fancy dresses and suits, with polite chatter mingling in the air.

You feel very out of place, but you are a woman on a mission. You’ve got work to do.

You manage to dodge most of the people standing in groups, polite smile affixed to your face. You’re looking for someone in specific; a Mr. Jung, in fact. As you walk, though, you notice people’s eyes drifting towards you, something akin to grudging respect in their eyes. But, why would they do that?

You have no idea, nor do you wish to find out.

You startle, though, when you feel icy cold fingers circling your wrist, and bite your lip so that you don’t scream; instead, you turn around with a stiff smile, wanting to get it over with so that you could find the CEO of Jung & Co, interview him, and go home.

“Yes…?” You trail off, eyes widening with shock when you see the same man from yesterday: Min Yoongi, “Oh no.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.” He deduces correctly, raising an eyebrow, “It’s interesting that this is what you wanted this dress for.”

“Yeah, well.” You flush uncomfortably under his gaze, and are only really saved when someone else enters your conversation.

“Hyung!” They call softly, and your eyes drift to them, taking in a lean man with soft brown hair and gorgeous, bronze skin in pure breathlessness, “Father’s looking for you.”

There’s something akin to sadness in his hazel brown eyes, when they mention their dad, and you see a similar sight in Yoongi’s usually expressionless eyes, before even that disappears.

“Right.” He turns his piercing gaze back to you, prompting the other man to look at you as well, “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“What?” You stutter in disbelief, “I—you can’t tell me what to do—!”

“Hoseok, stay with her.” Yoongi tells the other man—Hoseok, the second son—before sneering at you menacingly and leaving.

Hoseok rolls his eyes, but smiles softly at you, extending his hand for you to shake.

“I’m Jung Hoseok.” He introduces himself, “Are you Yoongi’s girlfriend?”

You took his hand to shake it but, at the question, drop it immediately, mouth literally hanging open.

“Y-Yoongi’s…girlfriend?!” You splutter in poorly disguised shock, “N-No way! And, uh, I’m Y/N.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” He shrugs, heart-shaped smile still on his lips, “It’s just that he never talks to anyone, especially not girls.”

“Unfortunate circumstances caused us to meet.” You let out, though that’s all you plan to say. Because, an idea is forming in your head…

Your boss told you that if you can’t get an interview with CEO Jung, to do an article on the party in general. You don’t really feel like doing all of that, but you do have a much better option right now.

“I see.” Hoseok is saying, eyes soft, “Yoongi told me to stay with you, though, so we’ll have to stick together.”

“Wonderful.” You frown, “Do I really need to listen to him?”

“Aw, why so sad?” He looks down at you with a warm gaze that causes you to flush lightly and, when you try for a twitch of the lips to counter it, chuckles, “There you go. You look much more beautiful with a smile.”

You’re sure your face must be beet red by now, but Hoseok thankfully doesn’t comment on it.

“C’mon,” He holds out his hand for you, and he makes a pretty picture—decked out in a royal blue suit, with cheeks flushed and a beatific smile—like that, “Let’s get away from this mess, shall we?”

“Okay.” You beam at him and take the proffered hand—everything is falling into place, “Where to?”

He just flashes you a secretive grin, and tugs you along.

It turns out there’s some sort of secret garden or something in the secluded corner of the mansion—and it is stunning.

“Oh my god.” You gawk at it, before turning to meet Hoseok’s amused gaze, “I know I said I hate walking, but it was worth coming all the way over here!”

“You like it?” He asks you, eyebrow quirked up, and at your happy nod, continues, “Then you won’t mind if I brought this along?”

He raises his fist, which is closed around a bottle of champagne. You stare at it for a bit, a voice in your head screaming at you to not drink on the job, but really, your bored. And besides, this could even help you along.

“Bring it on.” You smirk at him with fake confidence, “I bet I can outdrink you.”

“Oh?” A skeptical smile plays across his lips, “I’d like to see that.”

You aren’t sure how many gulps later…maybe six? Or seven? In any case, Hoseok still looks infuriatingly put together, while you start to lose your shit, vision dimming mockingly.

“I-I don’t want to lose my job!” You hiccup sadly, as Hoseok pats your back reassuringly, “I’m already broke, and this just would make it so much worse!”

“How’d you get in here, if you’re so broke, then?” He asks in curiosity, but you’ve got your wits about you enough to dodge that question.

“D-Doesn’t matter!” You say sternly, and he shrugs. There’s only silence, after that, where the two of you are left looking up at the stars.

You grow bored of doing that, though, and turn to eye Hoseok instead, breath catching in your throat. He looks really beautiful like that, face tilted upward, eyes full of the stars. The moonlight catching on his bronze skin makes him look ethereal, and makes you to move closer to him.

“What is i-it?” He turns to face you, only to stutter at the sudden proximity, “W-Wait, Y/N, what’re you—?”

“You look really pretty like this.” You murmur, and the hitch in his breath prompts you to lean forward, eyes fluttering shut.

The soft press of his lips against yours feels perfect. There are no firecrackers, nothing like the books describe…but it’s soft and warm and wonderful. He’s frozen in shock, as your fingers tangle in his hair, and his hands come to push you away, but no, you want the warmth back.

“Y/N, you’re drunk.” The flush on his cheeks makes him look even more irresistible, even as he stutters and looks away, “Y-You don’t know what you’re d-doing.”

You lunge at him, making him gasp in surprise as the he tumbles onto the grass, with you landing perfectly on top of him. You’re lucky your dress isn’t skin-tight or anything, or things would be very different.

“You talk too much.” You giggle lightly, before leaning down and kissing him again, harder and more fervently this time, and ah, there are the fireworks. When Hoseok actually starts to respond, soft lips moving desperately against your own, a thrill runs up your spine. Maybe it’s the alcohol that’s lowered your inhibitions, but you want more, and your unhesitant of showing it.

“Y/N!” He gasps sharply, when you roll your hips against his; his hands scrabble to find purchase at your waist, “You’ll regret this tomorrow, stop!”

“Why don’t you make me?” You question, core steadily dampening, “Jung Hoseok.”

“I…I…” He looks conflicted, before a nip to his exposed throat, and a well-timed roll of your hips, makes his eyes roll back, “Oh fuck!”

“I’d like that.” You purr, meeting his lips with yours again, “Aren’t you interested?”

He freezes, before slumping.

“Alright, fine.” He bites out, and the world spins as he flips you over easily, staring down at you with dark, lusty eyes, “But it’s on my terms.”

You nod eagerly, willing to give anything to just feel more of him. The champagne really must have done a number on you, because you aren’t normally like this…especially not on the job. But right now, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, except for the feel of his skin against yours.

“Good.” He says, and an unexpected warmth flushes through you at the praise, but you don’t dwell on it much longer as he hikes the skirts of your dress up, exposing your legs to the chilly air. You shiver at the cold, but it does nothing to deter you.

You realize that Hoseok is hunched over you, with your dress spread all around you, cheeks equally as pink as yours. You realize that anyone could walk in on this, on him giving you everything. And you just throb at that, giddiness overcoming you at the thrill of that happening.

“What’s this?” Hoseok’s fingers brush against your damp panties, with an amused glint in his eye at your stuttered breath, “I didn’t think you’d be this excited.”

“Damn it, Hoseok.” You groan, pushing down slightly to prompt him to just touch, touch and don’t leave anything behind, “Just do it, please!”

“Do what?” He obligingly pulls your underwear aside, to press gently at your dribbling slit, “This?”

“You know what I mean.” You growl, though his sly innocence makes an unbearable heat pool between your legs, “Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He smiles at you, “I better treat the princess with care, hm?”

And your mouth opens in a breathy moan when he slides a finger inside you, the slight burn of the stretch making it all the better. He just uses that one finger, though, pumping it steadily in and out of you, but it’s not enough, not even close, and he knows it.

You whine embarrassingly, but he seems to find it pleasurable, because he considerately slips in another finger, scissoring you with a steady hand. Two becomes three, and you nearly sob in relief when he twists them just right, to brush against your g-spot, making stars explode behind your closed eyelids.

“Yes, there!” You struggle to keep your voice down, just in case someone might overhear, and it makes Hoseok move even closer to you, mouth brushing against the lobe of your ear.

“You like this?” His voice shouldn’t ever be this husky, but you can’t focus on anything but the slow, meaningful movements of his fingers, rubbing against that one spot, and his dark, dirty words.

“I bet you’d like it if someone walked in on us.” He whispers to you, hot breath hitting the sensitive skin of your neck in spurts, “You’d like that too, right? You’d like for them to see me fucking you, owning your dirty little cunt.”

You can’t breathe, heart hammering wildly against your chest as he speaks to you in the same hushed tone, fingers doing their part inside you. It’s like you can’t bring yourself to move, just lie there and let him take and take and take. And, the worst part?

You love it.

“You want my cock, baby?” He asks you, smirking, and gods, he should be illegal, “Want me to open you right up?”

“Or would you be okay with anyone, hm?” He pulls back his fingers, so that they’re barely inside you, “Look at your little hole, clenching around my fingers like that. You’re desperate, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You moan, eyes wide and frantic as you try to get your bearings right, “Let me cum, please.”

“I didn’t even need to ask.” His red lips curl up, and his dark eyes bore into yours, “You really are a slut.”

“N-No—” You try to defend yourself, shuddering through your arousal, but Hoseok cuts you off.

“How about a little test?” He challenges you, fingers unmoving, “If you want to cum so badly, then why don’t you fuck yourself on my fingers like a good little doll? Or, if you’d prefer not to, I could just leave you here.”

He moves his lips closer to yours, “You can try to find your own release, staying. Right. Here. Someone might even find you, help you out to get their dicks wet. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

At the frantic shake of your head, he laughs, “then why don’t you get to it, before I lose my patience?”

It’s humiliating, but your juices continue to leak out of you, as you grind against his fingers helplessly. No matter how you angle your hips, they don’t strike the right spot, and it’s so frustrating.

“Why’re you crying?” He asks you, eyes showing only the barest hint of alarm, and you shake your head.

“I w-want to cum.” You choke out in desperation, “But I c-can’t!”

“C’mere.” He pulls his fingers out, before tugging you up and seating you comfortably on his lap. He hikes the skirts of your dress up, so that your dripping core is completely exposed to anyone who might be coming by, and pushes the digits back in.

“Is this better?” He asks you, but chuckles when your walls clench around him, “Figures.”

He makes quick work of you then, pumping his fingers in and out of you steadily. You can feel his bulge pressing against the cleft of your ass, and can’t help but grind against it, making him stiffen imperceptibly. It feels so good, lying there and letting him do what he wants, just putty in his skilled hands. At this point, you don’t care if anyone really comes and sees, because you’re entirely focused on chasing the pain-pleasure-pain-pleasure that he promises.

“You’re close, right?” He groans into your ear, “I can feel your pussy squeezing around me, so you must be. And you’re getting my fingers all dirty, you little slut.”

“S-Sorry.” You can’t help but squeeze out, “Oh G-od!”

“That’s it,” He coaxes you closer to your climax, pushing you to the brink, “Come for me, baby.”

And it’s like a switch turns on, at the sound of his voice, and with one final gasp, your vision swims white, legs trembling erratically as your core squeezes lustily around his fingers. You’re lost, swimming in everything that’s him, and you don’t ever want to leave.

Your mouth parts instinctively for his fingers, and you tiredly suck around them like he suggests, knowing that your cleaning your own juices off the slender digits.

“Good girl.” He praises you headily, before your back is on the grass, “I think it’s only fair for me to get my share too, right?”

A faint sense of alarm is triggered in your brain, and Hoseok seems to know what you’re thinking, because he pushes you back, with a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, I won’t fuck you.” He nips at your throat, “We can save that for another time, babe. Instead…”

You hear the sound of a zipper and take the chance, looking at the stars above instead of what Hoseok is doing. The grass isn’t prickly, and the weather is pleasant; it’s making you grow increasingly sleepier.

The drag of Hoseok’s fingers across your sensitive clit has you mewling, and he pauses, before pressing against it firmly. Your legs jerk, and you instinctively whimper at the overstimulation.

“Relax, babe.” He says, collecting more of your juices on his fingers, “Just let me take care of you.”

So, you stay quiet, something in you telling you that you can trust him. Call it a reporter’s instinct, but Hoseok just screams of trustworthiness.

Your eyes widen, though, when you see his slather his cock with it, mouth going dry at the size. You know he said he won’t fuck you, but…

He slides his cock close to your pussy, grazing against it, but never quite entering you.

“Close your thighs.” He instructs you, warm hands pushing your legs together, so that your thighs enclose his throbbing length, “That’s a good girl.”

You grow flustered at the praise, and your arousal spikes again, dribbling more onto his cock, much to his delight.

“You like that?” His fingers card through your hair, as he begins to rut against your thighs, “L-Like me praising you? Telling you what a good little bitch you are for me?”

“Y-Yes!” You cry, as his member rubs against your swollen clit, “Oh, please!”

“That’s it.” He pins you down, fucking into your thighs with renewed vigor, “Next time, I’ll fuck you properly. You’ll be begging for more, by the end of it, even when everything in you screams for it to stop.”

“You’ll grow addicted to my cock, won’t you?” He sucks harshly into your collar bone, “My good little slut.”

“Yes, oh God!” This is a situation spiraling out of control, but you can’t find it in you to try and stop—the pleasure, it’s addicting, and it feels so, so right, “Hoseok—!”

“I’ve got you.”

Only the moon is a witness to your passion that night, when the two of you curl around each other, and Hoseok sprays the inside of your thighs with white. It drips onto the grass, and you’re worried it might have gotten on your dress, but the brunette takes out a handkerchief to wipe you off gently.

It feels nice, the soothing rub of his cloth-covered fingers against your skin, and you find yourself drifting off in almost no time at all…

You wake up to a soft warmth, and sigh, snuggling into it. Your eyelids feel heavy, crusted, so you don’t bother opening them, instead trying to get back to sleep. Unfortunately, that’s when you realize that nothing in your bed has ever been this soft, and your eyes snap open.

Immediately recoiling at the sudden intensity of the light, you groan and try to get off the bed: a bad idea when your vision is so limited. You end up tripping on your gown—you forgot you were even wearing it—but manage to find purchase with a wall. You stand there, for a few seconds, until your sight finally adjusts.

Your jaw drops, because this most certainly is not your room.

The room is decorated in shades of beige and brown—warm colors—with the giant, king-sized bed clearly serving as the centerpiece. There’s a desk in the corner, your phone and purse placed on it, with an ornately carved chair to match, and there are two doors adjacent to each other.

Of course, none of this really matters to you when the door creaks open and nearly gives you a heart attack. You stare at it with wide eyes, as a brunette man walks in, eyes soft and cheeks…pink?

“W-What’s going on?” You ask defensively, instinctively huddling against the wall, “Why am I here?”

He looks at you with surprise coating his features.

“Don’t you remember?” He asks, hazel eyes wide with surprise, “I’m Hoseok.”

“Hoseok…?” You mutter to yourself, and everything hits you at once, making you flush from your head to your toe, “Oh no.”

“Oh, so you do remember.” Hoseok chuckles awkwardly, eyes cast on the floor, “I, um, was going to ask if you wanted me to get you some clothes or something, from one of the maids…”

“Uh,” You look down at your dress, before murmuring quietly, “Yeah, that’d be nice, thank you.”

“Alright.” He pauses hesitantly, and you watch him with wide eyes, “Could we…talk about this when you’re done?”

“Yeah, sure.” You say, though it lacks enthusiasm. He seems to agree, but nods at you before quickly walking out.

You flop on the bed, taking your head in your hands. You cannot believe this is happening. This is not happening.

“Why am I such an idiot?” You groan quietly into the silence, “Why did I drink?”

You can’t hold your liquor too well, and the fact that it was champagne yesterday…well, it got you drunk faster than ever before. You made a bad decision yesterday, and you know it.

“And what am I supposed to write for the article?” You whine quietly to yourself, before startling and nearly falling off the bed when the door swings open.

A middle-aged woman with auburn hair walks in, entirely dressed in white. She’s carrying some things in her hands—namely, clothes, much to your relief.

“Here you go, Miss.” She sets the garments on the bed gently, before turning to you, “The Young Master wanted me to inform you that the bathroom is fully stocked with any essentials you might need.”

“He would also like for you to use this,” She hands over a small looking remote, with a single red button, “To call for him once you’re finished.”

“Oh, thank you.” You blush, though you’re not quite sure why. You curse yourself for showing this kind of weakness.

She gives you a polite smile, before stepping out the room, door shutting as she goes. You stare at the door for a couple of seconds, before quickly locking it and rushing to grab your phone on the table. You need to call Jimin.

Picking up your phone, you hurriedly press the home button, only to blanche when the screen doesn’t light up. A couple of tries later, your fears are confirmed.

Your phone’s dead. Wonderful.

Seeing no other choice, you decide to go use the bathroom, and get dressed as quickly as you can. The faster you do that, the faster you can get home, simple as.

You stop short when you actually see the bathroom.

“This is beautiful.” You whisper reverently, “Beautiful.”

 Your bath, needless to say, takes longer than planned.

“So.” Hoseok takes a seat from across you, looking literally everywhere but at you, “We need to talk, I guess.”

“Uh, yeah.” You muttered, blush taking over your cheeks as your mind flashes back to the previous night, “But, um, first: are we at your place?”

“Kind of?” He gives a half-nod, so you take it at face value, “I mean, you sort of passed out last night, so—”

“Wait, did you carry me all the way to your house?” You interrupt, eyes wide, “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry—”

“No, no!” He rushes to say, smiling slightly, “It was just a couple of floors, and most of the guests were gone by then, so it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Oh.” You say, pondering in silence, before your mind finally connects the dots, “Wait, the mansion is yours?!”

“Well, it’s not exactly mine, it’s more my Father’s…” He grimaces, but at your annoyed expression, hurriedly acquiesces, “Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that?”

“Oh my gosh.” You murmur faintly, gripping the arm of your chair for support, “Oh my gosh.”

“It’s not that big a deal.” He looks confused and you shake your head.

“You basically fucked me, and carried me up here after I passed out and gave me a bunch of luxuries I can only ever dream of.”

You usually hate your lack of filter sometimes, especially considering your occupation, but not this time; not when Hoseok literally turns beet red and chokes on his own spit.

“I…You didn’t—!” He stutters, “I didn’t actually do it, we just, kind of…”

He makes vague motions with his hands, and you need to bite your lip to hold back your laughter.

“Jung Hoseok, embarrassed of this?” You smirk at him, even as he stares at the ground guiltily, “After all that filth you said yesterday—”

“Oh god, you remember?” He groans, head dropping into his hands, but you go on coolly.

“After all that filth you said yesterday, you’re embarrassed to say we almost had sex?” You finally laugh, “Jung Hoseok: shy on the streets, sly in the sheets.”

“Oh my god.” He groans, even though a smile pulls at his lips, and that’s when the door slams open, startling the two of you to near death.

“We need to talk.” Min Yoongi stands in the doorway, eyes cold and dead.

“Why is that a common theme here?” You mutter, stomach sinking, even as Hoseok waves him in.

The discussion with Yoongi goes as well as expected. Which is to say: not at all.

“So, care to explain to me why you were at the party yesterday?”

Yoongi sits across from you, next to Hoseok, with his arms crossed. Both of you ignore Hoseok’s confused glances, only looking at each other.

“I didn’t want to come, I had no choice.” You say petulantly, though a part of you quakes in fear.

“Even so, you’re clearly not on the guest list.” Yoongi muses, tapping a finger against his armrest, “And I’ve never heard of you, so that leaves…”

“Are you from the press?” Hoseok blurts out, and you struggle to meet his eyes, which are swirling with confusion…and hurt, “You came undercover?”

“Yeah.” You admit, knowing there’s no escape, and Yoongi’s stare grows sharper, “I did. I had no choice, my boss would’ve fired me otherwise—!”

“That’s none of our problem.” Yoongi interrupts, anger flashing in his dark eyes, “In fact, I think we should—”

“Wait, hyung!” Hoseok interrupts, making the raven-haired man freeze in surprise, obviously not used to being cut through, “What did you need to do for your boss?”

His face still screams of pain and sadness, and you swallow the guilty sob that threatens to escape you as you whisper:

“He wanted me to get an interview from Jung & Co.”

Hoseok’s eyes shimmer slightly, then, and you can’t help the tears that spring into your own eyes as you hurry to explain, “He also said that if it isn’t possible, he’d be okay with a general write-up, and that’s what I was going to do, I swear—!”

“Get out.” It’s Yoongi who speaks, fists tightening, and Hoseok refuses to meet your eyes as your throat turns dry in anxiety, “Get the fuck out.”

Almost on cue, armed men in suits walk into the room, and you struggle lightly as they begin to pull you away.

“Hoseok, I’m sorry!” You yell desperately, through your tears, even as he looks away, hurt still visible on his soft features, “Hoseok, please!”

The last you see of him, is his head burrowed into Yoongi’s stiff embrace.

Written By: Midnight

Next Part: 02