#i have my big internship i run every summer coming up

[quiveringdeer]

I really don't want to go back to work. technically probs shoulda worked yesterday but like no one else is going in this wk pretty sure- and I technically have annual leave I can burn sooo I think I just might

ugh

[speirslore]

masters of the air types of kisses hcs

(a/n: if i didn't include your fav just send me an ask and i'll add them! requests are open for bob, tp, and mota. sorry i have been inactive this summer, i was super busy with my internship!)

lmk if you would like to be on my taglist: @ronsparky @bcon24 @blueberry-ovaries @1waveshortofashipwreck @beautifulbluejay

[john egan]

okay... obviously... confident kisses

bucky knows what he's doing

he's also so spurred on by an audience like would he admit that... no. but in front of the other officers that have been eyeing you all night... yeah bucky loves that

always talking into the kisses, always has something to say

and his voice is always very low and hoarse too

kissing you but breaking away to murmur close to your lips, "god i love you, i haven't told you that yet but i do." he can't even try to repress his emotions, they bubble over the surface so easily and he's very honest about his emotions and how he feels

bucky just can't let himself repress anything, he expresses a lot of emotion through physical affection and intimacy

his kisses mean so much more to him than just the act of kissing, it's intimacy, it's knowing you- how you like when he cups your cheek or wraps his hand around your waist, every single kiss is a love confession to bucky

he loves just spending time with you, being around you, being next to you, laying next to you, wrapped around you, yeah he can definitely get a little clingy

a lot of morning, lazy kisses

but he is not a morning person, this is just him in between kisses trying to convince you to stay in bed with him all day

likes draping himself all over you except he's huge, hugging you from behind, chin resting on the top of your head, which means a lot of kissing the crown of your head or forehead <3

[gale cleven]

gale has a lot of self control and he's a private person

especially in regards to you, he's not against pda but he just loves the intimacy of being completely and totally alone with you

especially while being in the military where there's no such thing as actual privacy

so... private kisses

he also lets kisses say a lot, lets them speak for him... like i can't articulate how i feel right now but give me a few more months and it'll slip out eventually but right now please take this as a token of my appreciation and love for you <3

i think he has to feel very safe to truly articulate how he feels, has some left over fear of rejection from childhood

loves domestic, routine quick kisses like greeting you, saying hi or bye

always a quick peck when he's leaving or when he comes back, or when you're cooking in the kitchen

sometimes he'll get brave and might sneak a kiss while dancing in the officer's club

gale can be a little (very) unsure of himself at times

feels inexperienced overthinks it but it's never obvious

big fan of being super close, hand around your waist, your hand in his hair, his thumb running across your cheek to pull you in closer, a leg hooking around his own thigh... very fun

[harry crosby]

nervous kisses are we joking

a hot mess but your mess!

likes holding your hands in principle but is too embarrassed about his sweaty hands, but sometimes he'll pull your interlocked hands up for a kiss

also will opt to keep his hands in your hair when it's really getting heated

when you're first start seeing each other, it's more like quick pecks

he's just reallyyyy overthinking it

once does accidentally headbutt you and gets so red and takes like a month to not be totally mortified about it

but you just think it's cute <3 he's trying!

but the longer you're together, the better and more comfortable he becomes with intimacy

harry really loves slow kisses, taking everything, taking you in

allows him to get more comfortable, to relax and take his time

not constantly rushing, especially after deadline after deadline, you're his escape so taking your time in the moment is crucial to him

and it helps a lot too when he's at first so nervous, he can figure out what you respond to, what you like

which he is incredibly concerned with... and if he's ever unsure it's really stemming from him wanting to make sure you're having fun and you're enjoying it too

so many tired kisses, likes to just fall into your arms or bed after hours of working and straining his eyes staring at so many maps, trying to plan successful routes... he's exhausted

and kisses are definitively the cure!

[rosie rosenthal]

rosie is just the sweetest and he just so happens to also excell at kissing

comforting kisses? encapsulating? dare i say practically perfect?

he just gets to know you so well and is naturally so good at nurturing, leading, and taking care of people

so that definitely applies to his attitude towards physical intimacy

loves when you run your fingers through his hair while kissing, like his curlssss...... guys

maybe a little (or a lot) embarrassing in public like loves swooping you off your feet or when you arm into his arms after he's been flying for hours, giving you a big smooch, or very enthusiastically dancing with you at the officers club (showing off his moves) which you find incredibly charming

but can it really be that embarrassing when he doesn't care about that, about what anyone else thinks of him... it's only you <3

it's always a big event with him, he lovesss a romantic gesture, he's a total romantic

random but absolutely melts whenever you call him robert, especially when you're kissing or cuddling

absolutely a lot of forehead kisses, it's a natural reflex for him at this point

will never run out of ways to say i love you, to show you he loves you

[john brady]

john is no nonsense type of guy like if he wants to kiss you... he kisses you

protective in front of other people, especially at the officers club, his hand is always hovering on the small of you back or holding your hand, he's very touchy

a little possessive, maybe a lot

that can rile him up very easily, and then suddenly you're not on the dance floor anymore, you're in the bathroom with his hand shoved up your dress and your lipstick smudged :/

he's very direct but that doesn't mean he's impersonal, especially in regards to physical affection and intimacy

john definitely has a soft side that you see routinely

so also very tender kisses

loves cupping your jaw, bringing you in closer, loves looking into your eyes, loves tucking your hair behind your ears, loves slow, intentional kisses that could last forever

he absolutely has to have the perfect music for everything so he's hunched over flipping through vinyls while you're lying in bed like... honey come back pls <3

uncharacteristically lacks restraint, usually has a lot of self control but not with kisses

has a very intense kissing style

his eye contact, touch and firm grip, his lowered voice...

john is also very observant so he catches on very quickly to what you like and how you're feeling

[howard hamilton]

okay, hambone is a complicated man, he has many layers

you love the gold teeth, i'm projecting but like objectively they are hot?

little rough sometimes

has bitten your lip, it was on accident but unfortunately (fortunately) you both enjoyed it

at first it definitely felt weird kissing him, warm skin contrasting with the cool metal

is pretty insecure about the scar across his cheek when he returns home

it just makes his cheek and face in general so sensitive

so you're of course very gentle

running your hand very, very carefully over his cheek to cup his jaw

is he super gentle in return?... no

he's just naturally so excited, a little rough, like a puppy who doesn't know his own strength except he does know he's just a tad bit insatiable

but also so surprisingly (unsurprisingly) a gentleman! he's from the south

but he's also always aiming to please (lady in the streets but a freak in the bed, thank you ludacris)

only interested in you and doesn't try to hide it. does he really care about this officers party? absolutely not, he's trying to get you back to barracks better yet

[james douglass]

yes he is upfront very cocky like way too assured for his level of game

approaching you at the officers club like, "i actually love amelia earhart by the way. just so you know," he's an ally <3

yet it works every time so...

he's very expressive and very in tune with what you feel or what sounds you're making

kind of noisy... always humming, very vocal like he's always trying to find someway, somehow to get leave to go to london or anywhere private. day dreaming about privacy so he can be as loud as he wants... james is sick of muffling his moans

grins into kisses constantly, he's just that excited

pulls away a lot to look at you, so tenderly

always has an excuse for why you need to kiss, like, right now

yes he's cocky and self-assured but at his core he's still a huge romantic... shhhh secretly

he loves a sappy sad romance film or book

like that letter he was writing, yes he's an amateur but he has great prose

you do tell him that ofc and hype him up

because him trying to write romantic letters or god forbid poetry is precious to you, just as precious as his flushed cheeks, blushing that he tries to hide

[everett blakely]

he's just so effortless

everything he does just seems so cool including when he's kissing you!

ev makes it seem easy like it comes so naturally to him, he always seems to know exactly how to move his lips to mesh perfectly with your own

he lovessss spontaneous kisses too

just out of nowhere cradling your neck, head in his hand, or suddenly in front of everyone pulling you closer for a kiss

ev has no shame

just casually does things that leave you in shambles

but that feeling is very much mutual

and don't tell anyone but cool, suave blakely is secretly melting on the inside when you kiss him

sometimes you still give him butterflies but he plays it off as always

but when you use his scarf to pull him closer to you, laughing into the kiss... it's harder to hide how flustered he is then

and after he's been flying for hours after a shitty, as per usual, mission, your kisses are so grounding for the both of you

it's all he needs like interrogation needs to end quicker so he can get his kiss it's truly part of his post-flight routine

[benny demarco]

quiet, intimate kisses are his forte

lives those moments private and sweet moments, like laying in bed together with meatball on the floor next to you (actually let's be real benny lets her sleep in the bed)

he is such a cuddler like benny does not play about cuddling, he just loves physical intimacy and being close to you

his cheek smushed against you, feeling his stubble against your cheek, or running his fingers through your hair as you rest your head on his chest

he's just so content laying with you, with the occasional kiss

he can fall into a domestic routine so quickly and he loves it

like you're meatball's designated babysitter while he's up in the air

wlaking meatball together

everyone around the base is very much used to seeing the two of you together, if they see you they know benny's not too far away

[ken lemmons]

oh my god he's so earnest and sweet

you just can feel the love and his intentions through his kisses and how he carefully cups your jaw to pull you closer or wrap a hand carefully around your waist

i mean he wears a locket come on...

and ofc he has a tiny picture of you in it

he's very gentle as well, always so careful

especially at first, he was so nervous about messing up somehow, was genuinely debating asking one of the guys for kissing tips and advice

but he figured it out quickly and now knows you and your body/lips like the back of his hand

whenever you both pull away from a kiss, ken is always smiling

he has a very idealistic but fun and young attitude about love

it's so contagious and just so freeing to be around

and it's evident in how he kisses you, quick and sweet, or sometimes deeply intense and intimate

kissing ken feels like a summer day

he smells vaguely like oil and his hands are rough which always surprises you, his skin is so warm from being out in the sun, and his curls are so close to you

just a great experience overall

he's just young and in love <3

it's very easy to read how he's feeling and he will never run out of ways to compliment you

[bangtangalicious]

death valley (m) | finale

summary: a summer internship at a famous record label turns wild with blurry nights of dangerous men, dirty money, and extremely hot sex. you soon get caught in a savage game of greed, power and obsession, only to find out that you are the grand prize

pairing: ot7 x f.reader smut ft: jimin x reader, namjoon x reader

genre: smut. yandere. mystery. thriller. gang!au rockstar!au

wordcount: 7k

warnings: multiple & explicit smut scenes. a is for angst baby, slow burn romantic post-argument sex, unprotected sex (bc), rough sex in a limo, coercion, extremely dubious consent but she gets out of it, namjoon is a big boi, manipulative and obsessive themes, choking, toxic relationships, some physical violence/fighting (not oc), drugs/alcohol mentioned, lots of kissing, dirty talk, creampie, heartbreak, betrayal, guns (not used), oral (f rec), jimin eats you out like a king, anxiety, declarations of love, somehow yet unsurprisingly taehyung is still really hot, yn jumps out of a car but shes ok, twists and turns ;) happy? ending - please read with caution!!! unedited

taglist (sorry if i missed ppl!): @imluckybitches @gee-nee @missseoulite @hcneybees@kooookie​ @queenmasterxx@crustycaitlin @virgo-and-libra@un2-verseverse@winter-melontea@equivocacies​ @infernal-alpaca@shrimpmsg@meowmeowyoongles @rjsmochii@liltangerined @littlrmills14blog @issysor@arandomblackgirl@adoringinsanity@giadalin@jeontier @kaithezaftig@jinssexytoe @nonnis97@minyoongiboongi@happygirl62304 @just-me-and-myselfs @purplepebbles @channiespup @lilacdreams-00 @kianam @thmrdrs@kpoppin-mel @namjooningelsewhere @lolzerss @planetsope @ohmykim @xyahrinx @bangtan-army @you-are-my-wind @yoongihandfetish @father-time-and-baby-new-year

part 0 | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | finale (lite) | finale (dark) part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | series navi | masterlist |

Taehyung rolled a chess pawn in the palm of his hand. His eyes locked on the game board where two knights stood at the crossroads of his queen. The timer clicked softly in the background, but all Taehyung could hear was his heart beating loudly through his head. A weight dragging down his heart.

So this was guilt.

Taehyung never wasted time with such feelings. Caring for others had never come naturally to him. It was why he was so brilliant at what he did. He had engineered a façade to win your trust early on. In a sea of unhinged men, he meant to be a diamond in the rough. He was ever so sweet to you. Caring, even. Everything was intentional. Every move. Every lie.

Taehyung never wanted you to die. He couldn’t stomach it. Leaving you in the fire was intentional. He knew Namjoon was following you around like the creep he is. He had to see the betrayal in your eyes. He had to make you feel as bad as he felt. He had to do something that would make you want to kill him on sight. He needed to cut you off for good.

Now that he had, the thought of you hating him kept him up at night. He felt guilty.  

Why do you care? Taehyung’s feelings for you—he wasn’t sure what they were. The moment you lost faith in him, he seemed to shatter. He wanted you to trust him. He yearned for your approval like never before. Would it have been so wrong to take you and run away? To keep you for himself, far from the chaos of this place?

He shook his head. Blinking at the chessboard a moment longer he began to smile. Giggle. Before he was laughing wildly. He slammed the table to the side, watching all the pieces scatter onto the marble floors. 

It was unfair. It was so fucking unfair. Taehyung would have worshipped you. You were a goddess in his eyes. He shook his head. It was none of his business anymore. What you did—who you chose to be with. He had betrayed you. Lied to you since the moment the two of you met. The conflicting thoughts in his head racing a mile a minute—making him queasy with anticipation.

Just leave it alone. Do what you came here for.

Except he couldn’t. He couldn't sit idly by and watch you make a huge mistake. To be with someone who wouldn't allow you to be the amazing woman you were. Someone who only saw you as a prize. He needed you to leave him, to leave Death Valley—but wanted you to be happy.

Sighing, Taehyung reached for his phone. He was doing this for you. He would have done anything for you—but knew in his heart that his would be his last move.

Check and mate. He was done with you after this.

He tasted the remnants of your name on his lips before sending a final message.

You’d never forgive him. But at least you would be safe. 

The clock ticking could barely hide the tension in the room. Jimin couldn’t even hear it, his ears filled with his racing heart. His lungs constricted—he could hardly breathe with how angry he was. Gripping the steel handles of his chair so tight, his knuckles were going white.

But he didn’t dare say a word. Because he had been in the business long enough to know when someone was plotting against him. Namjoon was naïve. Tacky, even. The desperation of his actions would have been amusing if it wasn’t for your pliable willingness to participate.

He couldn’t look at you. You were by his side, sitting with your hand on his arm. It was too painful—because you were cold. You were back to playing with his heart and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

“It’s just a PR stunt” Hobi had led them inside the label to a conference room. After a long sip of his coffee he spoke again. “They both agreed to it. Imagine the fucking ticket sales for your concert now”

Tugging at his sleeve, you leaned towards him.  “I’m sorry baby, it’s not real though I promise.”

Jimin scoffed, turning his head. He knew you better than you thought and could see through your lies. What he couldn’t figure out was why? Why would you agree to something so rash and impulsive?

“This will also help us push down news about Yoongi’s death”

Jimin finally locked his gaze with yours. So that’s it, isn’t it. He truly hadn’t known until Jungkook told him. Was that why you were mad? Did you think he was behind this? This had Namjoon written all over it.

He turned to the bastard, who looked far too pleased with all this for his liking. Namjoon had been a pain in his ass from the day they had met. Fights, to tailing Y/n around every damn second, he couldn’t shake the creep and was getting fed up.

“What the hell did you tell her?”

Namjoon grinned. Leaning back, he ran his fingers through his hair. His newfound confidence was nauseating to Jimin—knowing that it was being fueled by you. “You know, I never really got what people see in you. You don’t even care about music. Your fans. Any of it. You don’t deserve any of it, and you definitely don’t deserve Y/n you crazy prick”

Jimin laughed bitterly, ticking his jaw. “Who the hell even are you? You’re nobody.”

“I’m the guy who just fucked your girlfriend a few minutes ago, let’s start there”

The tug on Namjoon’s lips sent Jimin off the edge. He lunged across the table, fists swinging but Jungkook jumped up to hold him back.

“Namjoon” You muttered sternly, but Jimin was not oblivious to the way you blushed. He scoffed. You had shattered his heart. In front of millions.

“Why?” His voice was quiet, holding your cheek into his palm when really he wanted to grip your throat and squeeze until you couldn’t breathe. “We don’t need this, I don’t care about ticket sales or breaking records anymore—all I want is you”

You sighed, “It’s not about you baby, I wanted to help Namjoon out a little too. It’s his first concert”

Jimin pouted, folding his arms over his chest. “Y/n, I hope you know that I trust you, but Namjoon clearly has an ulterior motive with you. You do see that, right?”

You scoffed, mumbling to yourself.

Jimin raised his eyebrows. “Is there something you want to say to me, Y/n?”

You shook your head. Your gaze was frigid. Everything about you was. He hated it. He wanted to fight, because at least then you would react to him. At least then he would know you cared enough to tell him what was on your mind.

Reaching for your hands, he brought your fingers to his lips, lightly brushing kisses against each one. He knew you liked it when he was soft with you. He needed to remind you who he was. Who he was to you.

“Listen baby,” He spoke softly, twirling your fingers with his, “Jungkook told me what happened to Yoongi” He pressed his lips to the palm of your hand. “I’m so sorry. And I can’t image what you’re going through right now. I know you cared about him”

You stared at him with disbelief, “I loved him, Jimin”

His heart sank. Fingers constricting around your wrist. A part of him wanted to toss a chair across the wall. Maybe pull out a gun and shoot Namjoon in the head.

He exhaled. He couldn’t lose you. Not after everything the two of you had been through. Jimin changed for you. You made him want to be better everyday. You taught him that there was more to life, and all he wanted was to go chase it with you by his side.

He could tell you were taunting him. Trying to get him to snap so you would have any excuse to go running to Namjoon, but he wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction. He was going to prove himself to you.

“I know.” He looked into your eyes. Searching them. Trying to convey his sincerity when he said, “If you want to talk about it—about him, I’m here for you”

You smiled. Fake. He hadn’t gotten through. He sighed in defeat, backing into himself. Jungkook cleared his throat. Jimin had forgotten they weren’t alone.

“Y/n, do you want me to drive you home?” Jungkook briefly looked at Jimin, indicating an understanding.

Namjoon stood up as you did, eagerly waving you goodbye. Jimin could have vomited, but stared aimlessly at the wall instead.

Your head was spinning. Dizzy trying to count the lies tossed around so easily minutes ago. You were grateful Jungkook offered you an out. Being around Jimin was too complicated. You needed to stay focused.

“Your acting skills have improved” Jungkook’s voice was amused, breaking the still silence surrounding you.

You grinned. Jungkook met your eyes in the rearview mirror and chuckled. “My god, Y/n what the fuck are you up to now?”

Licking your lips, you turned to face him. “Have you ever trusted someone so much, that even when the truth is staring right in front of you, you simply can’t see it?”

“You talking about Yoongi?”

“I’m talking about you” You pulled out a gun—something you had managed to snatch from Namjoon during sex. “Pull over and get out of the car”

The shock in Jungkook’s face was priceless. You finally sympathized with whatever sadistic kick Jin used to get out of tricking others. Jungkook quickly stopped the car, stepping outside with his hands in the air.

“Y/n” Jungkook’s voice was shaky, “Whatever this is, is a misunderstanding. You’re still messed up over Yoongi and I get that—but” He dropped to his knees, “J-just drop the gun and talk to me”

The thing was—you no longer had anything to say. You were rightfully fed up with the lies. Not only was Namjoon clearly lying to your face, but moments after you received a message from Taehyung.

Taehyung. The emotional haze over Yoongi and Jimin had almost made you forget—that the puppet master still lived, and more than likely, was still pulling the strings. You were willing to bet Taehyung killed Yoongi. It was so perfect. His whole plan had been perfect from the start and you were burning to look him in the eye one more time just to beat him at his own game.

Of course it had to be Taehyung. Taehyung killed Jin—and almost killed you. He had been the mastermind. The king. And like an idiot you trusted him. You really, truly trusted him.

You trusted he would never hurt you.

Your mind whirred. Reason escaping you completely you began to question everyone you had been around. Everyone always told you Jungkook was a liar. Good for nothing. Controlled by the highest bidder.

Well, the highest bidder was no longer Yoongi. If Taehyung killed Yoongi, Jungkook was probably balls deep in his pocket too.

“I’m gonna ask you once. Slowly” You gritted through your teeth, “Who killed Yoongi?”

“Y/n—I don’t know. Okay, I texted you when I found out from Joon. Why would I kill Yoongi, huh?”

“Never said you did. I’m asking if you know” You shook your head. You didn’t have time for his evasive answers. You clicked off the safety, making Jungkook tremble.

“Y/n what the hell, I’m on your side alright?”

“When I told you Taehyung was alive—you didn’t really react much. Did you know it was fake the whole time? Have you been helping him?”

“Y/n—if you’re asking if I will work for Taehyung now that Yoongi is dead” He exhaled, “Then yeah, I will. That’s what I fucking do, Y/n. Not all of us have popstar boyfriends who can take care of their every need. I gotta make my living and this is how I fucking do it. But you asked me to find Jimin even when Taehyung had kidnapped him and I did. I brought him to you. Taehyung isn’t after you. He just wants you to stay away from him. He would never hurt you, Y/n. And if I haven’t made it clear yet—neither would I”

“Oh you’re defending him now?” You raised your eyebrows.

“No—I just—Y/n just leave it alone. You have more pressing issues than Taehyung right now, trust me” You scoffed.

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook gulped. “I don’t know who killed Yoongi, honest. Namjoon was the last person I know who even saw him” He paused. “I’ve known Namjoon for a long time Y/n. I wouldn’t put it past him to be behind this.”

You shook your head. There was no way. Namjoon would never kill someone, let alone someone you cared about.

You’d had enough.

“Tell Taehyung I’m coming for him. He’s not getting away with this”

Driving Jimin’s car. You had forgotten the delirious high of stepping on that pedal and zooming through the highway without a care in the world. Nostalgia panged in your heart as you recalled simpler times, when you were hooking up with Jimin—and not being hunted down by a ruthless gangster.

You arrived at Jimin’s apartment, unsure if he himself was there.

He wasn’t.

You knew he would be mad. You truly had appreciated his effort to stay calm in such a situation. You felt bad for the way you acted but you needed Hobi and Namjoon to think you were against Jimin. After all, Taehyung was always watching.

Tearing off your clothes you ran into his room, ready to surprise him and hopefully, convince him not to let out his anger at you. Jimin arrived a few hours later. You heard his offbeat steps. He’s drunk. Quickly you grabbed one of his shirts, threw it on before meeting him in the kitchen. His eyes widened upon seeing you.

“Y/n—” His voice was soft. Slurred. Eyes shot red—you were unsure if he was even truly conscious.

“Sshh” You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your lips to his neck. “I’m so sorry baby. Let’s get you to bed. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”

You felt something cold against your skin. Tears. Your heart dopped into a pit. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me” He mumbled into your skin. Carefully, you led Jimin into the bed, slipping under the sheets next to him. You held him close to your chest, hoping that the beat of your heart might give him some solace.

Jungkook’s words echoed in your mind: You have more pressing issues than Taehyung right now. You thought back to the previous day. How Namjoon had so easily convinced you to give up on the man who clearly adored you? He baited you. Swung the news of Yoongi’s death in your face all too conveniently. Was Namjoon working for Taehyung too? The two men hardly ever interacted. But you were cross examining everything you ever thought you believed. The only truth you could hold onto now, was Jimin.

Jimin had no reason to lie. No reason to kill Yoongi because you had already chosen Jimin. Whoever killed Yoongi needed a good enough motive. Taehyung had motive—he wanted Death Valley to himself. There wasn’t anyone else unless…

Your eyes fluttered shut.

It must have been the middle of the night. You felt Jimin stir next to you. Cautiously you let your eyes flutter open.

Jimin jumped up, gasping for air suddenly. He was breathing heavily, a cold sweat breaking out all over him. You quickly brought a glass of water to him, guiding it to his lips. Stroking his back, you calmed him down until he was able to look you in the eye.

“Get the fuck out of my house” His voice came out broken. As though he had been yelling into a void for hours and no longer had any fight left in him. When you didn’t move, he pushed you away. “Did you hear me? I said get out.”

The frightening part was that he wasn’t raising his voice. Anger laced each syllable that left his quivering lips. A sense of desperation swept over you—he had to hear you out.

“Jimin—baby, I’m sorry, okay I was faking it” Jimin leaped out of the bed, the glass of water spilling across the bed. His fists were clenched tight. Jaw locked, eyes glaring.

“I don’t care why you did it, Y/n. You promised me you would come straight home from work. You didn’t. I come and find that you publicly agreed to marry someone else?” He huffed, kneeling to shuffle through his drawers. He found his pill bottle, twisting the cap off and dropping a few tablets into his palm. You went over to him, grabbing his wrist before he could take them.

“Why do you think I made such a fuss about you leaving? I don’t want to suffocate you Y/n. I don’t want to hold you back but fuck can you blame me for being scared? I swear one day you’re saying you love me the next you’re off with Yoongi or making out with Namjoon. I love you—and I think you love me too. If you’re planning something tell me. You keep hurting me Y/n—you keep making me miserable by breaking my heart” Looking you dead in the eye, he tossed the pills into his mouth, gulping them down.

“Jimin. I know you didn’t kill Yoongi. Namjoon thinks you did, and I admit, for a moment I believed him. But then I got thinking, and I realized it had to be Taehyung” You let go of his hand, only for Jimin to sat back down on the bed, head hanging over in defeat.

“And in all that time you had to think you couldn’t bother to give me a fucking phone call?” Jimin gritted through his teeth. You knew he was right. You had been acting out for some time now—and the fact of the matter was: you were overwhelmed.

Jimin watched your conflicted face. So much had happened. You had never taken a second to truly reflect. Realizing you loved Yoongi despite his obsessiveness. Finding out what he had done to you. First you thought Jimin had died at the hands of Yoongi—then Yoongi at the hands of Jimin, all while Namjoon had been pining for you, and you faced the biggest betrayal when Taehyung left you to die in the fire.

“I can’t do this” Your voice barely above a whisper, you quickly began to gran your things. You needed to be alone. You needed to think. You dashed for the door but Jimin was faster. He blocked you with his arm, cornering you against the door.

“You’re not leaving”

“You literally told me to get out” You screamed. It didn’t matter than he hadn’t raised his voice. It didn’t matter than he was only inches away from you.

“You do not speak to me like that” Jimin whispered. His eyes bore holes into yours. You shuddered under his gaze. “Do you understand?”

You nodded.

Jimin hissed, fingers cupping your jaw. Tilting your face towards his. “Words”

“Yes”

His gaze shifted. You recognized it right away. The predatory, lustful gaze whenever he wanted you. Pupils turning dark. Laser sharp.

“Let me in” He whispered against your cheek. His breath tingling against the heat rising to your face. “Let me in to that twisted little head of yours”

You kissed him.

With a slight turn of your head your lips were on his. Familiar. Comforting. Yet ablaze with the same carnal desire as when you first met him. It was exhaustion and relief. It was pain and sadness. It was you and him. Nothing so imperfect, so uniquely flawed had ever made more sense to you.

“I love you” Your lungs had no air—but the words were easy to say. In a sea of lies maybe this was the only truth you needed. Gasping you jumped up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his hips—arms around his neck. He was warm. Melting you down. Inhibitions released.

He was being gentle. You may have wanted him to be rough but it wasn’t what you needed right now. He carefully carried you back into the kitchen, setting you on the countertop. Shelved between your thighs he gripped your hips, rocking to a slow rhythm, your bodies pressed up tight.

His fingers trailed over you, until his hands found your face. Cupping your cheeks he kissed you more intensely. His lips were so soft. Incredibly sweet. Everything else seemed to disappear.

He backed away, catching his breath. When his eyes fluttered open, you could appreciate again how beautiful this man was.

“You drive me crazy Y/n” He blinked at you, pressing his forehead to yours. You grinned—to which he lifted you back up as you squealed, giggling as he swung you around. Pressing your back against he wall he held you steady on his thigh, fingers finding your aching core. Gazing into you, he watched as you squirmed under his touch. Your pussy clenching as he rubbed tight circles against your clit. He was beyond turned on, seeing the way your eyes rolled back as he touched you. The way your lips parted and you fingers dug into his flesh.

“Shit you’re so fucking hot” He let you land on your feet before dropping to his knees. You stared down at him in shock, hand weaving through his hair as he peeled off your panties. He pressed his nose to your pelvis, breathing you in deeply. You blushed, thighs trembling as his tongue found your clit, licking soft kittenish striped around the sensitive flesh.

Heat burned through you—twitching through your veins. Your heart pounded, nails scraping against his scalp—tugging at his hair. “F-fuck, baby” You moaned—his hands pushing your thighs apart.

“You taste so good baby” His deep voice vibrated through you. You sighed, missing his warmth suddenly. Pulling him back up you pulled him in for another kiss—tasting yourself on his wet lips. Your tongue sliding over his. Moans passing softly between the little space between you two.

“Want you inside me” You felt him smirk under your lips, heart skipping a beat.

“Yeah?” He breathed into you, cocky, teasing—edging you on. “Of course you do” His hands slid to your ass, roughly grabbing a handful before spanking you lightly. He rolled his hips into you, bulge pressed against your clit. The friction was amazing, but you wanted him to fill you up. You needed him deep inside. Needed to feel closer.

Your fingers tugged at his waistband, and Jimin simply chuckled as you pulled down his pants. Not missing a beat he hooked your leg over his elbow, kissing your ankles—down your calf, before finding your lips again. His other hand tugged at his cock, lining it up with you—grinning when he felt your weat heat suck in his tip so eagerly.

“You’re dripping for me angel” He whispered. You blushed, quivering as he sank a little deeper into you. You pulled off your shirt. He bottomed out, staring at your chest.

“Fuck, why are you so perfect?” He groaned, unsure if it was from the pleasure of being inside your tight cunt or your breasts hanging out in front of him, all for him—him only. He pinched your nipples between his fingers, eyes glued to the way you face twitched with pleasure. He loved how you looked when he made you feel good. He never wanted to stop. One hand steadying your leg, he carefully pulled out all the way till the tip—your slick coating him, dripping from him. It was amazing to see, as he entered you again, his breath became shaky. You felt so good, so warm around him. You were the best he’d ever had.

Forearms caging your head, he gently traced the side of your face, dragging out and thrusting back in. It was red—heat—burning desire. He took it slow, but you could feel his desperation in every move. His lips brushed over yours, his taste a whisper away.

You lowered your leg, pushing him away so you could turn around. Quickly discarding his own shirt, he cupped your breasts with his hands before pressing his chest into your back. His fingers leaving sparks across your body as his cock slipped back inside you, the sound of his hips pounding against your ass echoing through the room.

“Fuck” He cursed, kissing the nape of your neck before grabbing your hair—pushing your face to press up against the wall. Lips on your jaw, moaning your name as he thrusted in and out, like he had no time to lose. You gasped for air. His cock filling you up so good, hitting you right where you liked it. Your legs felt numb, trembling in bliss as he continued to drive into you.

“You wanna cum, baby?” He whispered into your mouth. Your eyes were watering with need. “Oh, poor baby wants to cum so fucking bad doesn’t she?” You nodded weakly, his fingers finding your clit again. Flicking at it.

“Jimin—” Your voice was broken. Lost in pleasure, “Feel—so good, fuck”

He smiled, “Go ahead baby—look at me when you cum. Wanna see your pretty face when you cum on my cock”

Your eyes locked. It was want. Need. And everything in between. This was all you’d ever wanted, it had always been him. You weren’t ready when you first met him, and neither was he. You weren’t what he expected, and he was everything except your fantasy.

In it’s own, twisted way, it was love at first sight. Obsession at first sight. Hate—turned into something so beautiful.

“I’m gonna cum, Jimin” You liked that you could say his name. You liked that he would say yours. His eyes softened as he felt you tighten around him. It hit you like lightening—you fell apart in pleasure. It was ecstasy—the high you’d been chasing all along. The high only he could give you. He groaned loudly, spilling into you moment after as you twitched in his hold. You dripped all around him, soaking your thighs.

“I love you, Y/n” He kissed you deeply, panting into you, “I love you so much”

“I love you too, Jimin, always” You assured him—cupping his face, “It’s always gonna be you”

“Talk to me” He gazed at you sincerely, nothing but adoration in his eyes, “Just talk to me, whatever you’re thinking, I wanna know. Okay, I trust you. So please, just trust me too”

You nodded, leaving a final chaste kiss lingering on his lips. “I do. I have one last thing to take care of, and then I promise we can go away. Trust me one last time. I’ll come back to you”

You were never a high heels kind of girl. But there was a lot of press tonight—press expecting you to make an appearance tonight. The stunt had created so much buzz that Hobi specifically hired hair and makeup for you. He allowed Namjoon to pick out your dress—it was black. Tight fitting. Simple. Sleek. Teardrop diamond earrings and a small necklace.

You’d never wear this to a concert. How were you supposed to dance? Let loose. But then you remembered—tonight wasn’t supposed to be fun. Not for you.

You had thought long and hard about what you were going to say to the press waiting early outside. Hobi instructed you to wait for Namjoon before making an entrance. You called Jimin earlier, letting him know where your head was at. He seemed to be supportive of whatever decision you decided to go—as long as you didn’t embarrass him any further.

It had been a while since you had seen Namjoon. He had always been somewhat of an afterthought, and yet you knew you had led him on hopelessly. It was time to come clean. You were unsure how he would take it.

“Wow” Namjoon stood in the doorway of your fitting room. Leaning against the side—he looked breathtaking. Ripped jeans, black tank top—were those earrings? Your eyes widened. You’d never seen him in glam, but admittedly it suited him. His abs protruding through the soft fabric. He looked like a dream.

He looked like Jimin. Back then.

“Why would you want me in heels?” You whined, giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek, “Please let me change”

He pouted—as he always did, knowing full well you’d never say no to his pretty eyes. “I like knowing you’re dressed for me” You giggled, inviting him inside to sit down.

“God, I want you right now” He looked up at you, hands on your sides, running up and down the silky fabric. Pinching at it. Ready to tear it off of you in a moment. And you knew he could—his biceps flexing, you had almost forgotten how big he was. How strong.

You clicked your tongue, teasing him as you slid his hands off. “You have to get ready for your big night”

Namjoon ran his fingers through his hair, leaning back slightly. “I wanted to talk to you about that actually—can I bring you out on stage? I wrote a new song about you, and was planning to open with it”

You shifted your weight. Clearing your throat in discomfort. You truly had wanted to wait until after the show to talk to Namjoon about your relationship—but this complicated things.

Like a saving grace, Hobi appeared in the doorway. “Your limo is here, let’s go”

You held onto Namjoon’s arm. Taking a deep breath, the two of you stepped outside where cameras were lined up for miles. Lights. Flashing. Your name being called. Shouted. It was dizzying. The limo door was open and Namjoon led you there, allowing you to slide in with ease. The car was gorgeous inside—golden velvet seats, glasses of champagne. So this was the life of a rockstar’s girlfriend.

You were an object. Candy on the arms of someone who mattered.

Namjoon noticed your demeanor change, covering your hand with his. “Like I was saying baby, I really want my fiancée up there with me for my first concert”

The word stuck out like a sore thumb. It made you nauseous to think about. “Namjoon—that wasn’t real” You reminded him cautiously. You couldn’t afford to make him upset, not right now.

Namjoon was taken aback. He looked baffled, hand moving to your wrist. “It was to me. You love me, don’t you?”

Oh God. You paused.

You shouldn’t have paused.

“You love me, don’t you?” He repeated his words. Except his voice was getting loud. The space was getting small. The windows were tainted black. The lights were too dim to see clearly. You licked your lips nervously, carefully trying to pull your hand away from him.

You needed to speak. You had to tell him the truth, but when you looked into his eyes you saw something familiar. Something deranged. Yoongi’s eyes.

“You ungrateful whore” Namjoon’s voice was booming. You’d never heard him yell. Never thought him capable. Your eyes shut, shielding you from his terrifying voice. “Don’t you know everything I’ve done for you? I’m the only one who really knows you—knows what you want. And I became that—look at me Y/n” He grabbed your face, “I am everything you have ever wanted. I’ve been by your side through all of it. I’m the only one who gives you control. I saved you Y/n—I protected you every step of the way. I didn’t know bringing you to Death Valley was putting you in danger but Taehyung promised it would mess with Jimin so I agreed.”

Your eyes flew open. “Wait what?”

“I saved you from the fire Y/n—when Taehyung tried to kill you—it was me! I waited outside of Jimin’s apartment for days, I even tried to break in and get you out. We’ve taken on the world together Y/n. It was always us against them”

Jungkook’s words came back to you again. I wouldn’t put it past him to be behind this.

“You’re saying, you knew Taehyung was behind all of this, from the very beginning? I thought you two had never met”

A panicked look crossed Namjoon’s eyes. He gripped your shoulders, shaking you lightly. “We hadn’t met. Technically”

You rolled your eyes, “Well Namjoon—technically, I didn’t say I loved you. So get the fuck off of me”

He didn’t move, “You can’t be serious Y/n—I’m the reason he hasn’t been able to hurt you. I protected you from him, from Jimin, from Yoo—”

Your phone buzzed. Namjoon tilted his neck in irritation as you clumsily pulled it out. Taehyung? You opened the text—your eyes widened. Namjoon’s eyes narrowed as your breathing came to a sudden halt. Blinking, you put your phone away, meeting Namjoon’s desperate gaze once again.

“Tell them to stop the car”

You could feel him tremble, his nails digging into your flesh. “No”

“It was you. You killed Yoongi—and tried to pin it on Jimin” You shivered in his hold. You couldn’t have another Yoongi in your life. Another man who was willing to shape your environment to have you. To control you. To see you as nothing more than a trophy.

“Yoongi was horrible to you. I did you a favor, baby. I did everything you wanted. You owe me” Namjoon hissed—his hold unwavering. He dove for your lips, roughly snatching them between his. Anguish flooding through his touch. You groaned—unable to move—unable to push him away.

He was so big. His muscular chest pressing against you. His breath hot, mingling with yours. Eyes shut—lost in bliss while yours were wide open. You had never seen more clearly. When had Namjoon become this monster? And had it been your fault all along? Did you do this to him?

As guilt plagued your thoughts, Namjoon took it as an opportunity to go further. Other hand on your thigh, he slipped his fingers under your dress—hooking them around your panties before yanking them both down sharply. The fabric burned against your sensitive skin. But he could care less. His bulge was throbbing, pressed tight against your hole he jerked his hips. The button of his jeans giving a painful relief to your core.

As if awaken from a haze you placed your hands on his chest—attempting to push him away. He smirked at your effort—you couldn’t move him. There was no way. Namjoon was far stronger than you—and you knew that.

With a swift motion of his hand he unbuttoned his pants, allowing his eager cock to spring up. Tugging at it, he looked back into your eyes. You shuddered at what you saw. He was gone. The Namjoon you knew wasn’t in there. He had lost it.

“Wait—” You could barely breathe. The lack of air driving you to a sense of faintness. Weakly you called out his name, hoping you could get to him. Break through to the Namjoon you really knew.

“Don’t fucking act so innocent, Y/n” He hissed, “I know you better than all of them. I know you love this. I know you want to slobber all over my cock, let me bounce you up and down on it until your crying for me. I know you want it to hurt—baby I’ll make it hurt” He tightened his grip. Instinctively your fingers came up to your neck, attempting to pry him off so you could breathe. “I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted don’t you see, Y/n? It’s always been me. By your side from the very beginning. I’ve seen it all. Every step of the way. I love you and you love me it’s been us against the world—don’t you see?” His words were incoherent. You were beginning to lose consciousness. At some point Namjoon slid inside you. Lips parted in pleasure, he thrust into you—tight and hard.

Your eyes threatened to close. Mind going blank as the image of him began spotting. You didn’t know who you were wishing to come save you. You were so tired of being saved. Of needing to be.

Weakly you slid your hand up his chest. Over his neck and cupped his cheek. Kiss me—you tried to speak but nothing came out. Namjoon seemed to get the hint though. He let you go and you gasped for air—a short lived effort when he swallowed your lips once again.

His cock burned inside of you, dragging against your walls your pussy trying to push him out but he heathed himself deeper and deeper. It felt good—you hated that it did. You hated that it was him as his lips slid to your neck, sucking love bites across your shoulders.

You felt claustrophobic. You needed air. You needed space—tears began to build in your eyes. Your free hand searched for your phone—fumbling it in your hands as you dialed the name popping up. You felt the device vibrate, and a wave of relief swept over you. You were not going to surrender.

You still had a little fight left in you.

“You didn’t just kill Yoongi” Your fingers found the back of his head. Namjoon looked up—lips swollen, breathing heavily. Eyes blasted with lust and need. “You became him”

Namjoon growled, shifting you with ease until you were on top of him, holding your neck against the car door. You grinned—reaching for the champagne glass you tosses the liquid in his face.

Reflexive, his hands went to his face, wiping the burning alcohol from his eyes and in that moment you rolled aside, opening the car door. It didn’t matter than your panties were hanging from your ankle. It didn’t matter that your neck was bruised.

The car was driving fast. There was no one else around. You could jump.

Weighing your options in your head, you hear a loud engine some ways in the distance. A motorcycle caught up to the limo—the rider, a bed of jet black wavy hair that you recognized all too well. Eyes closed, you took a moment, Namjoon grabbed for you but you kicked him off.

You jumped.

-

Namjoon arrived at the venue, royally pissed off. You ruined his big night—how could you? Were you really that selfish? He knew Jimin would be there. He was ready to put an end to things once and for all. No gun on him—he wasn’t worried. Jimin was small. Jimin was weak. And not nearly as devoted to you as he was. Not willing to go the extra mile to have you.

Ignoring the cameras who plagued him with questions, he pushed past the crowds and marched backstage. His fists trembling, his heart beating fast—blood pumping adrenaline like never before. He was feral. Ready to kill on sight.

Jimin stood backstage, sitting at a mirror and touching up his own makeup. He noticed Namjoon behind him, eyes rolling slightly.

“Good, you’re here” Jimin said, a mocking tone in his voice. Upon closer look, Namjoon could see that Jimin had been removing his makeup. “Hobi has been informed, but I will not be performing tonight. The stage is all yours, asshole.”

Namjoon grabbed Jimin’s arm, “What?”

Jimin chuckled, “You’re such a fucking idiot. Though I suppose all new stars are” He looked him up and down, “Wow, you’re real original aren’t you? Are those my clothes?”

Namjoon swung a punch. Jimin ducked in time. He was no idiot. He knew he couldn’t fight Namjoon.

Luckily, he wouldn’t have to. He had already won.

“Aren’t you wondering where Y/n is?” Namjoon hissed, pacing around Jimin ready to swing at him again.

“I know where she is, Namjoon. I also know what you did to her. And if it were up to me, I’d shoot your sorry ass into the ground right now” Jimin sighed, “But that’s not what she wants. So go out there, and do what you’ve always dreamed of. Leave me and Y/n alone because I swear to you Namjoon—I might leave but I’m always gonna have eyes on you—and I’ll have you dead in an instant.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah” Namjoon turned to see Hobi, gun in hand. “It is. Do what you were hired to do, Namjoon. Let her go”

Namjoon screamed, falling to the floor. Jimin and Hobi exchanged amused looks.

“We better get some great songs out of this” Hobi muttered to Jimin. He grinned widely.

One year later.

The warm glow of early morning sun rays filtered through the white curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, a sense of bliss washing over you as you processed your surroundings. Outside the ocean glimmered, waves softly scathing over the shore. Children ran across the sand—couples played in the water. You turned back to see the love of your life lying peacefully, tangled in the white sheets. The comforter hanging off of him, his toned back bare and ever so still. You picked up his shirt from the ground, buttoning it up as you walked over to the window.

A package was waiting for you. A black box, tied neatly with a red ribbon—no indication of who it was from, or where. You noticed the window was cracked open a smidge. Carefully you untied the ribbon, sliding the top off the box to reveal its components.

It was a leather jacket. The jacket. Jimin's jacket.

You look outside, searching—unsure what for. You see a camera on the edge of the building across from yours.

You smile.

Setting it aside, you quickly crawl back into bed, wrapping your arms over Jimin’s back, and pressing kisses all over his neck. He hums softly, unwilling to wake up. You nuzzle against him, before allowing your eyes to fall shut once again. Dreams overtaking you.

series navi | masterlist | scream in my ask box

a/n: and scene! thank you for reading and for being so incredibly patient! i hope this was satisfying <3 i love you all!!

[paralyze-fic]

Paralyze.

Chapter 8

Now, it was the turn of the third team. Midoriya pats my back as I walk away, in a silent way of saying 'good luck', and I go to my position. I don't enhance my legs yet, I'll wait until the countdown.

Good thing I stopped some other people's muscles beforehand.

And finally, the race began, I ran at my normal pace for a bit, until I saw one of my classmates up in the sky, that was when I prepared my legs for a big jump and some fast running.

My jump was calculated correctly because I landed on one of the roofs and I had pipes where I could run. I was basically doing a mixture of what Midoriya and Iida did on their race.

My breath was heavy and I had my eyes focusing on any surfaces I could land on so I wouldn't slip off. My eyes darted around, looking at the other members of my team, I could see Jiro having a bit of a hard time keeping up with us, but she was managing.

Looking back ahead, I saw All Might's frame, and my speed increased, my feet were barely touching any surface as I was flying past everyone, and that's how I finished first.

//////

The last race went on while I talked with Midoriya and Todoroki, every now and then I would be glancing at the cameras, immediately focused on Bakugou as he had a crazed look on his face...

Cute. He looked like an angry and fluffy puppy.

I had to contain my squeal at the mere image of Bakugou having dog ears and a tail, swinging happily side to side.

"Um, (M/n)-kun..." I turned to stare at Midoriya and I noticed the strange look on his face, "Why do you have that expression, all of the sudden...?" I chuckled and pat his head, messing his curly hair even more.

"Don't you think Bakugou looks like a puppy?" Todoroki glanced at the camera and touched his chin with his finger, in a thinking position.

"Now that you mention it... you might be right," I laughed at his comment and some of the guys turned to look at us, but didn't mention anything about it.

The winner of the last race was -obviously- Bakugou, and All Might reunited us all to say some words, but I wasn't exactly paying attention... a hard stare was burning on the back of my neck and it was making me anxious.

"Todoroki-kun..." I whispered to him and he slightly turned.

"Yes, (L/n)?" I shifted a bit with a shy grin while I scratched my neck.

"Who's looking at me?" He seemed confused for a second but then looked behind me, not being sly at all.

"Bakugou." I swallowed my spit and nodded at him as thanks.

All Might finished his speech and told us to go back to the bus, I sat by the window, Todoroki by my side, something I was thankful about, he was pretty silent and I wasn't feeling like dealing with the happy ones.

The whole ride I spent it looking out the window, thinking about Hitoshi... when would he talk to me again? I had tried texting him and calling him during my internship and all day when I was home, but he didn't care to answer.

"Hey, muscle weirdo." I glanced ahead of me, there was Bakugou with Aoyama beside him. "After school, at my house." And with that, he went back to sit.

My mind was racing, what could Bakugou want to do? Maybe he wanted to fight...? But why at his house? I'm so confused.

The next minutes of the ride went by in a flash, at least for me, I wasn't paying attention to anything anyway.

We all hopped off the bus and walked to the changing rooms.

This time, my mind was rushing so much that I didn't mind the staring on my body as I changed. But still, I did it quickly.

Back in the classroom, I sat down while waiting for Aizawa to come in.

"Silence," speaking of the devil, he had opened the door and as soon as he spoke, everybody rushed to their seats. "Well, it's almost vacation time. But it would be senseless to have you all relaxing the whole month," with that, I focused on his words, "You'll be having three days of written exams. They would be about everything we have viewed in class thus far. But also, we will be going on a training camp this summer."

The whole class yelled a 'Yes, I knew it!' Everybody got excited and said things that could be in said camp, but Aizawa used his quirk to make them all shut up.

"But, the ones who don't pass the final exam before the camp, would go through hell."

The next classes went by as normal, with the addition of a stare at the back of my head, again. And I didn't have to ask Todoroki to know who it was.

The very moment the bell rang, I tried to sneak by past Bakugou, something quite difficult that didn't turn out how I wanted, so now the spiky blonde was dragging me by my tie towards his house.

"Why do I have to go to your house, Bakugou-kun?!" I whined a bit scared, while I tried to free myself from his grip.

"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're thinking," he growled with a scowl on his features, I just sighed and let my body get dragged along the sidewalk. People walked past us, staring weirdly at both of us, I could only look down at my shoes while matching Bakugou's pace.

I didn't keep track of time, but we finally reached his house, surprisingly, it was bigger than I thought.

I followed him inside hesitantly, he was taking off his shoes and putting on a pair of white slippers.

"Sorry for the intrusion..." I whispered to myself as I closed the door and put on the slippers Bakugou handed me.

"Katsuki, you're back?!" I heard a woman's voice yell, he grunted and walked to the staircase.

"Yes old hag, and I brought somebody, so don't be a bother!" I was surprised at how he talked to his mother, if I even dared to barely think something bad about my mom... I got the shivers just thinking about it. Bakugou stops on the third step and looks at me over his shoulder. "You're coming or you're waiting for a written invitation?" I gulped and followed him slowly.

Looking to my side, I saw a blonde woman talking to a brown-haired man, I guessed they were Bakugou's parents. I stopped at the door frame and bowed.

"Thanks for having me in your house," I said and turned around to follow Bakugou again.

He opened a door and got in, I did too. My eyes glanced around the room, it was more... average than what I thought. Well, it seems like I've been thinking more than I should about how Bakugou is.

It was like a expected something more... Bakugou-like? I don't know.

"I want to know something..." he turned around after he had set down his bag on his bed. "There's a way to avoid the control of your quirk?" Bakugou stares at me and rises an eyebrow.

I swallowed and fidgeted a bit in place.

"I don't know, maybe there is..." I was unsure of how to answer him but he seemed satisfied. At least for now.

"Okay, then we'll fight." My eyes were following his body, how he walked to a dresser and pulled out some clothes, too engrossed in his appearance to understand what he said. "Change."

Suddenly, my vision was black, as he had thrown clothes at my head. I grabbed them and stared at them for a few seconds, then...

We'll fight.

[hitlikehammers]

Thanks to @thefreakandthehair for a prompt that kicked me out of my head for a hot second: “Wait, wait, wait. Butterflies? Butterflies are your biggest fear?”

Except it did get pretty chaos-theory-ish and not very comedic so I might have still been in my head a leeeetle bit.

-

They’re in the woods.

Like, if you pointed yourself in the opposite direction of Skull Rock and went as far in that opposite direction as you could until you found a decent, similarly climbable but also reasonably flat-topped rock without any name at all: that’s where they are. It’s late afternoon, but the sun’s still high. Fucking summer.

Fucking summer, and the light, and being able to see clearly all around them in every direction.

But they’re out here because even if they aren’t smoking it, it feels right somehow to be a little secluded when they’re getting high—especially given it’s going to be a shit-ass, kinda reluctant high. Because Daddy Wheeler had chosen to go and randomly suspect, after all this goddamn time, a particular smell on one of the jackets on the coatrack, and Nancy had all of four days left before she was off to New York for her month-long internship, and in her wariness of lighting up with the rest of them in that tiny window of time, she’d convinced Steve to host a baking party.

Predictably: everyone who was not Nancy had nixed using anything but the most mediocre bud for this endeavor, too high a risk of failure to sacrifice anything truly decent to a test run, and lucky for it, too: Steve bakes kind of stupidly excellent brownies, so it’s not a quality issue with the confection. He’d even added extra chocolate, trying to mask the shitty leaf with sugar and cocoa and possibly walnuts and basically just anything remotely possible to confuse the overall flavor but, just, some sins you cannot mask: the goddamn pot brownies were fucking awful.

Nancy had apologized profusely for the half-baked idea (to get them only half baked Argyle had giggled, and that’d been enough to smooth over the lingering frustration); Steve had called his house off-limits until the stench faded (it’s not about my parents, fuck them, they’re probably never even coming back, which means it is about resale value, you dipshits, and I want a decent price for that sectional when the time comes); by now Nancy was gone to the Big Apple already while Jon had hopped a plane back with Argyle to Cali, and Robin’s grandparents were visiting—enough said.

And, well: bad weed was still weed, and even bad weed was paid for outta someone’s pocket, waste not want not and whatever—but also stray brownies were hard to keep from rabid teenage appetites and Steve and Eddie were not going to risk these ones getting snatched up by the wrong hands. Depressingly mediocre as they might be.

It’s not the first time either of them’s taken one for the team—specifically this team; so.

That’s why they’re out here. With a tray of less-than-half-eaten stale-as-fuck weed brownies that are gonna start attracting bugs if they don’t get to chowing down quick enough.

But speaking of the bugs: the fucking summer, the fucking sunlight, the ability to see everything past five-fucking-PM—

“The hell did that butterfly ever do to you?”

Eddie rolls his head to the right, and rolls the glare he’d narrowed on the aforementioned flying curse-monger along with him, over to where Steve’s reclined right next to him with his knees bent and the spread of sad-sad brownies balanced on his stomach, and Eddie hadn’t thought much about where he was grabbing said brownies from so far, but now that he’s looking he’s a little concerned about the fact that what’s left of the batch is closer to the bottom of the tray.

“It’s almost entirely black, too,” Steve’s neck is craning to follow the wily fiend as it flaps its infernal wraith-wings all innocent and shit to fool the ignorant masses; “what, is that not metal enough for you? Jesus,” and the snort that comes with all that judgment shakes the brownies, jostles some dust onto Steve’s shirt; “that feels like some super unearned hate, man.”

Eddie sighs, and grabs the top-most brownie before flopping back onto the rock and doing his damnedest not to watch where the hellbeast is headed to next.

“I don’t hate them, Harrington.”

“You’re all huffy, though,” Steve protests, and it’s him who’s lolling to the side to look at Eddie this time, and when Eddie doesn’t immediately follow to meet him Steve’s reaching out, prodding Eddie’s chin until they’re eye-to-eye, and then:

“Your eyes are so big,” Steve says, like he’s genuinely surprised, like he’s shocked honestly and then Eddie does get huffy, in that he huffs a laugh because goddamnit, Eddie can try to ignore it all he wants but Steve Harrington is so fucking, just…cute.

“What big eyes you have!,” Eddie squeaks a falsetto and rolls said eyes as best he’s able; “what am I, the big bad wolf dressed as your dear old granny?”

Steve frowns; no—Steve pouts. He rolls over a little closer, and Eddie has just the amount of coordination to catch the brownies and perch them between their legs, the tray only just long enough to swing it, but now Steve’s studying him, eyes far less pupil than Eddie had expected given how far they’ve worked through the baked goods but not…not-mostly-pupil, nonetheless.

Steve reaches out and traces Eddie’s eyes with a feather touch that sends goosebumps up his arms in the middle of summer, goddamn; prods at Eddie’s frown, the one that’s replaced his scowl now, considering and careful until a stray touch gets under his chin.

“Jesus,” Steve hisses more than anything before he steadies—mostly, as best he can, A for effort—his fingers at Eddie’s jaw. “Your heart’s fucking pounding, dude.”

“What big heart you have!” Eddie recycles the mockery one register too high so it breaks on a godawful pitch, fuck all, and then his frown’s deepening because: “wait, that doesn’t even work.” Neither narratively, nor grammatically.

Whoops.

“Kinda works,” Steve says with a shrug, nonchalant while Eddie’s struck a tiny bit dumb, even as his eyes narrow a little and his hand slides down Eddie’s neck, almost clinical, like it’s measuring and checking and weighing evidence, but then like, also, full of so much fucking care Eddie might split apart for it.

“But this shit doesn’t hit you like that,” Steve frowns, and flicks his eyes down to the remaining brownies and then back up to Eddie’s gaze to watch the answer as he asks:

“Bad trip?”

Eddie scoffs, but it’s wholly for the sake of the answer, not the person asking or the fact that it’s asked because that’s one of the best and worst things about Steve when he’s a little high: he’s not a different Steve. He’s a looser Steve. He’s all the beautiful things inside of him if not a single goddamn one of them had a leash holding them back anymore; if not a one of them had ever known a filter fitted close to dim them down for mortal sight. He’s a soft, blinding revelation of every thing he is, just…pure and untethered.

It’s immense, basically; and it’s kind of hard to look at straight-on.

“No,” Eddie finally rolls his eyes, about the weed, and the nature of its effects: “this shit’s still as tame and disgusting as it was the first three times we tried to get rid of it.”

Steve hums, and Eddie can feel him nod against the globe of his shoulder—Jesus fuck, but he’s gotten close.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve finally seems to collect himself into something coherent from his observations. “You’re not mad,” Eddie shakes his head; he’s not. “Or like, consumed with hate-filled rage,” Eddie snorts; nope.

“But you were like this when, back when,” and the hitch in Steve’s breath, in the stream of his words wouldn’t be noticeable as earth-shattering if Eddie hadn’t grown to fucking know Steve Harrington over these months, to read him and hold him—his well-being and his aches and his hopes and his dreams and the impossible things in Eddie’s hopes and dreams that Steve plays an unwitting starting role inside far too often—but Eddie does notice. And Eddie reads it almost impossibly, knows what Steve means when he almost imperceptibly clears his throat, when his free hand twitches but doesn’t reach upward.

Would have, though. Would have reached to his neck.

He’s not thinking about vines, or scars, either. He’s thinking about a broken bottle and the tiny pinprick of silver that you really have to look for to see branded into his skin from the way Eddie’s hands had shaken that day.

Eddie’s looked hard enough to see it. More than once.

“Are you Little Red Riding Hood or Sherlock fuckin’ Holmes, man, Jesus. Pick a lane,” Eddie deflects fucking pathetically, not least for the way his voice sounds almost strangled when he thinks back to the boathouse, the manic way he’d pinned Steve, ready to strike; the way he’d tried like hell ever since to remember every little hint of Steve’s warmth and Steve’s weight and Steve’s breath on his skin beneath him and—

“And then,” Steve’s continuing, and Eddie grabs blindly to shove a nasty-brownie in his mouth just for some kind of cover because Steve can be oblivious but Steve’s very far from stupid, and he’s very close to the truth of it now, so; “then you were sca—“

Steve cuts himself off there or, well: Eddie cuts him off by offering-via-shoving the half-bitten brownie left in his hand up close to Steve’s mouth, this time.

Steve pauses a few moments, and then takes it. It’s fucking insanity, and if Eddie’s pulse weren’t wild for the reasons Steve’s about to say out loud once he swallows his share of terrible chocified-weed, it’d be in a whole fucking frenzy now anyway because Steve just ate the food offered from Eddie’s goddamn fingers.

While they’re lying next to each other. While Steve’s touching him and not fucking stopping.

“Butterflies?” Steve garbles out a bit with his mouth still half full before he swallows all the way.

“Butterflies are your biggest fear?”

Biggest? Fuck no. Not…in themselves. And frankly:

“I do not fear butterflies, Steven,” Eddie declares a little too haughtily; it doesn’t land, Steve doesn’t laugh, and Eddie deflates, because now Steve’s invested, and he knows he’s clocked the right scent. Fucking dog with a bone. Eddie gave too much away.

And Steve’s tolerance is better than when he started, because his tolerance when he started was the cannabis-connoisseur’s equivalent of ‘sometimes-I-smoke-when-I-drink-at-parties-insert-tittering-laughter-here’—but it’s still not great. And Eddie’s only on par with him now because he didn’t arrive sober.

But Steve, whose tolerance is decidedly ehhhhh, fearlessly pokes at Eddie’s chest with a rapid fire cadence much harder and way fucking faster than his own heartbeat, thanks a fuckton, and points at Eddie’s eyes with his other hand, dramatically pinching his thumb and forefinger wide-wide-wide like he has a point.

Which, okay, fine: he kinda has a point.

He’s also got brownie crumbs at the corner of his lip, so Eddie takes the initiative to try some of that fearless poking himself—if ‘fearlessly poking’ can also mean ‘delicately brushing and then tracing the bottom pillow-pout of a lip just in case you’re missing cleaning up some of the mess or something for the singular sake of being goddamn thorough and for no other reason at all ever’.

Eddie thinks that definitely does count.

“Fuck off, Little Red,” Eddie tries to growl, tries to shrug Steve off, but Steve’s finger-poking is now just his palm on Eddie’s chest, and Eddie realized when he started lighting up—or in this case, stuffing his face—with people he cared for and trusted, like this? He likes to be tactile on any old day, but he actually fucking loves being the subject of other people getting handsy whilst under the influence.

Steve’s eyes are getting huge now, too, but he doesn’t have an absolutely-rational fear to blame it on. Maybe he’s the wolf.

Eddie wants to lean over and lick his neck because if he did, he could 1) gather up the brownie-crumbs that fell in his collar earlier and then 2) run his tongue up again to see what big heart Steve has—

Fuck, no. That really wasn’t a part of that story, was it; shit.

Eddie still considers it, though. Thoroughly.

But then he picks up the flags of blue batting in his peripherals where the little fucker could have faded into the shadows since Steve was right, the rest of it’s just black-on-black—but no. No: the winged-terrorist just had to remind Eddie of its presence one more time before it went on its merry way, Jesus H. Christ.

Eddie feels his own heart racing under the hand Steve hasn’t moved yet, obvious not least because Steve’s pressing on it closer now, firmer now, and when Eddie dares to look down Steve’s eyes are wider now, too: but he’s not the wolf. Those eyes are all question; maybe a dash of concern.

Eddie thinks—wolf or no—he’d still let Steve Harrington eat him alive.

// continue on Ao3 here //

[rotationalsymmetry]

The Ocean: When I was a kid I would play with the waves, running towards them as they pulled back, running back as they tried to catch my feet. We didn't have the sort of ocean you swim in, we had the sort of ocean you dip your toes into and scream. As an adult, I would bike down to the ocean, take my shoes off and roll up my pants -- it was never shorts weather -- and just let my feet get wet briefly (the cold rose up the backs of my calves as pain) then walk along the cold wet sand next to the waves, give my body time to acclimatize. Then walk back in and feel the waves rise up and down over my legs, slamming into me like an enthusiastic large dog, over and over. My pants were always rolled up to my knee. I always told myself this time I wouldn't get them wet.

I never wanted to leave. I'd stand on the beach, shoes back on already, not yet ready to go, letting my ears be immersed in the crash and fall of the waves, watching the white crests curl and flatten over and over.

The Mountains: my family would go camping, when I was a kid, at least once each summer and go skiing once each winter, white mountains surrounding a lake of the deepest blue. One summer I had an internship, the whole summer, up in the mountains (big, rocky, West Coast mountains) and another internship, the whole fall, in rounded tree-covered East Coast mountains. I hiked. So much. In the summer I learned how to identify every tree I saw. In the fall I was in one of the most biodiverse regions in the world, was doomed to failure before I started, but I learned a few, and tulip trees will always be close to my heart. I wanted to go back in the spring some time to see the flowers. I never did.

The Moon: I grew up in the city, in a frequently overcast city, and didn't see the moon that often. In college though I was in a small town ok flat land next to a flat lake, and the sky was clear all winter when it wasn't snowing, and I learned the moon's cycles in my bones. The tiny right-handed crescent, growing through half moon to glorious night-long full moon, then shrinking to the left, then gone for a few days (too small to see or only visible in the early morning before I arose) and then one evening I would see the new moon and welcome it back.

I'd started getting into paganism by then, special occasions mapped by the cycles of the moon, so it's less married to and more devoted to, the moon is my Goddess, is how I chart my life.

The Stars: long story, but I was in Mexico in the desert and badly dehydrated, and coming back from the bathroom at night I lay down and stared at the sky for an hour. There are no stars like desert stars on a moonless night.

That mountain summer, I learned to tell constellations and I learned to identify the stars that weren't stars, the planets (the travelers of the sky), Venus and Jupiter and Mars. All the sources says Mars looks a bit red. I could never see it myself. I learned that the constellations change throughout the night, you see the "summer" constellations in the early night on the summer, but when you get up at 3 am to use the bathroom, the constellations then are the "fall" constellations.

The Woods: well, often the mountains also are the woods, but sometimes the woods aren't the mountains. I remember a campground in the Northern California coastal forests completely surrounded by blackberry bushes, a wall of plant life, like in a fairy tale.

I was in a discussion group one time and we shared a Thoreau quote about needing to spend four hours a day in the woods and one woman dismissively said who has time for that? And I thought of the summer between my junior and senior year of high school when I had to balance learning trigonometry over the summer and spending time in city parks, and it's not that I wasn't enjoying trigonometry rather to my surprise I was, but trigonometry still lost. When I dream, the city I grew up in grows extra sand dunes and mountains and forests for me to walk around in.

The Sun: when I was a kid, I would play hide and seek with the sun, on those days when it was half cloudy and the sun would keep going behind clouds and out of them again. I worked out that if I was in the shade, the sun couldn't see me.

When I was in my late teens, out of high school and able to set my own schedule for a time, I noticed that if I didn't set an alarm I'd wake up around 8 on sunny mornings, and around 11 on cloudy ones.

I have a garden now and sunlight falls on the plant leaves lighting them up in the brightest greens and making shadow patterns on the walls.

[cigarretteluvr]

journaling a count down to twenty one

seven days: I turn 21 soon and it feels like the end of the world. Well, 20 felt like the end of the world too, but that's because I was 19 and didn't know any better. 21 is the Big One, the one i've waited my whole life for. The one where you are deemed to society really an adult: "legal." I guess that legality scares me. I've used my youth as a crutch for so long that I feel like my immaturity has to dissipate during this countdown. And until yesterday I didn't even feel like celebrating 21- and even today I barely do. It feels wrong, worse, it feels empty. How do I celebrate this birthday when every time I blow out the candles I wish he would be here? And when I check my phone at midnight, I'll just be looking for a missed call?

Maybe I should be mourning my adolescence instead of a boy. But I can't help but feel thats just a small piece of a bigger picture, because if I had the love of my life by my side for 21, I don't think I would care very much about the death of my adolescence at all.

I wonder if he would forgive my juvenile impulses if I were to act on them. I wonder if he's as desperate for me if I am for him, and if I asked him to come running he would, because, it's my birthday after all. And we can still chalk it all up to being kids, and being dumb, and being in love and helpless. But I remind myself he probably would think I'm toying with him, or being mean, or being immature. I wish he knew better of me, but I am known to be prone to indiscretion.

I don't even know what I want from him really- anything might do. I guess, really, I want to come back to my place after ordering my first drink (a dirty gin martini) and see his number on my screen as soon as the door shuts, and hear him wish me happy birthday with that nickname he calls me. and in that voice that still gives me butterflies, he would ask me what i did and i would tell him, and it would be normal, just for a call. And maybe then 21 wouldn't be my saddest birthday.

I know that's a fantasy, and i'm barely owed a thought, much less a present. But that, I guess, is my birthday wish this year. Maybe it's bad luck to tell you. But no matter what I blow out the candles to, no matter what I present I get, nothing will compare. and maybe I just need to come to peace with that. But a little part of me hopes, telepathically, he'll know exactly when my door will shut, and my phone will light up with a familiar number, one that will always mean more than 21.

five days: i bought my tiara, it's gold and a little kitschy, but i'm excited to wear it and be princess for a day again (or in my case, a week). 21 is feeling a little more exciting and a little less real. i'm not really sure how to compose myself, i'm not really sure how to feel about it, who to celebrate it with. i've picked the obvious choices but it just doesn't seem right. nothing about this birthweek really has felt right.

im having a birthday party tomorrow and i cant help but think about what additions he’d have to my playlist. he’d probably add something i hate and i would convince him it doesn't work but add it anyway. i was thinking about him crashing my party, the drama. and how he probably would if he could. i thought about the betty of it all, and what i would do if he did. i kept myself awake all night last night thinking about it- not contemplating my answer, just getting excited by it.

i find myself looking for thoughts to distract myself with all day, but they always catch up with me at night. if i plan this party i wont think about it, if i book concerts i wont think about it, sign up for internships, make a checklist with whatever other thousand things i can do in a day and do them. yet i think if he called me right now and asked me to marry him i would-- which is crazy. but it's true. once the distractions run out, once it's summer and i'm alone in my big apartment, and i've done everything i can do by myself in a day, and i don't feel like going to a bar or a club or even out of my room, i'm going to be smearing blood on the walls wishing he was mine. writing poetry about him like they're manifestations and confessions. i'll probably be distracting myself for the rest of my life. what a life.

three days: i got told yesterday by a drunk person that im interesting, because i think things should be so i make them be. and they said that they think that’s admirable, but ultimately wrong. i laughed at them and went back to my friends to dance to faneto.

but it’s true. not that its wrong, but their observation. i never paid much attention to it, i think thats just the way i am and i dont analyze things like that about myself because, well, it is what it is. i think the world is what i make it to be, and that is just my nature, and if i dont like a rule i wont follow it, and if i think something should be a certain way, it is to me. i guess i do live in my own little world. my own constructed little world.

i love living in my own little world. life is nicer here, things make sense here. i have fun here. i can find peace here in whatever chaos i construe.

i wonder how many people admire that about me— is that what people admire about me? have they just not been able to put it into words? he did, he tried anyway, but i guess never said it so succinctly or matter of fact. when he told me there was nobody else like me, that he loves the way i live life, i wonder if thats what he meant and i just might have never understood it until now.

and im turning twenty one (if you havent caught on) and i wonder how that will change. i wonder if it will change, because for a while now i’ve felt like ive been aging backwards. i was told when i was younger i was an old soul and mature for my age. now that im older im told im a free spirit and incredibly youthful. and i dont know if i did that out of my own volition or if i was a special experiment from the universe. i feel like little me felt the agony of a middle aged adult with a 9-5. and now- while i might only be twenty (one) and this might just be how twenty (one) year olds act and feel- i think im childish and naive and getting moreso by the day. and while everyone grows up and matures around me they can call me and use me as a “feel young quick” drug whenever they please, and im just too aloof to understand that that’s not what friendship is.

and i wonder if thats why i feel so lonely? it seems like while people might admire that about me, the own little world of it all, they’ll never understand it, or really resonate with it. they go along with my bits and my quirks- but thats all they really see them as: bits and quirks. im chalked up to quirky and fun, and i thought those were compliments until now. now i realize i might just be completely misunderstood and left to fend for myself in that little world.

it wasnt always this way, i used to have someone by my side who saw me for me and not as some character, and i loved him more than anything and for a million reasons, now including this. and im out of his life and he’s out of mine, and its my birthweek and im realizing all of these things about myself and about life and all i can do about it really is talk into this void and hope someone may care enough to listen. but im still making that birthday wish when i blow out all my candles and hopefully in three days it comes true. he’s still my best friend in my heart and hes always with me in spirit.

i feel so many things— so many conflicting things. angst, misery, bliss, joy, anxiety, peace. but thats what it is to be a girl in her twenties, im learning.

24 hrs, 20 mins: this time tomorrow i'll be at a dive bar named after a pastry in my favorite little town, getting excited to order my first drink at a real bar. a couple hours after that i'll be coming home wondering about a call, and i don't know which i'm more excited for (yes i do).

i'm writing this with my tiara on and i can't believe its almost the end of birthweek. it's almost the end of twenty- which is crazy in and of itself. twenty was so full of love and adventure and learning and change and happiness and tragedy. but i loved every second of it. my favorite memories will be suck in twenty, even though i know i'll make more. the golden ones live in twenty.

not only is my birthday creeping up but so is summer. i'll be here for a good chunk of it- the way we had planned together- and i'll be entertaining myself however i can. keeping busy, but we already talked about that. summer is my favorite time of year i think. I love winter with all my heart, i love who i am in the winter, i love the memories i have with winter, i love how winter feels and smells. but the year never starts until summer. my summers are dreamy and exciting and chaotic in the best way. i love the heat, i love the air, i love the freedom. it's gemini season and i was raised in the sun, how could you expect any less from me?

and while i might be mostly alone this summer, i refuse to let it go to waste. i'm being given access to the rest of the world, i'm alone, and have nothing but time to do anything and everything i love. and even though i was supposed to do it with him, i'll do it in honor of him instead. in honor of the dazzling summer we once planned for ourselves. It seems like a summer in socal is what my life has been leading up to, as dramatic as that sounds. but i feel ready- i am ready. i'm ready to be twenty one, i'm ready to pretend to be an adult with my apartment and my responsibilities and i'm ready to chase my dreams after manifesting them for so long. maybe this is just jupiter, or the moon, or the tiara, or gemini talking, but i'm so ready for all the blessings the universe has planned for me. i'm ready for the lessons i'll learn in this new era. and maybe it'll all lead me one step closer to him. so i'm ready for it (or so i think right now, at least. i still have a good chunk of time to change my mind. but i don't think i will).

this took me 20 minutes to write, so now this time tomorrow i'll be celebrating twenty one, i'll be waiting for my drink, and i'll be feeling a freedom i'll likely only feel a few times more after twenty one. and i'll close my eyes, and make my birthday wish even through that feeling.

[raviposting]

I saw ur tags and my dude I’m about to go to college for forensic science!!! Exciting!!! Do you have any survival tips?

AAAAH that’s awesome! Idk if you’re going in for undergrad or your masters so I kind of did a mishmosh of both lol. Also no idea where your region is and this is specific to my program etc etc etc

Don’t be afraid to ask questions! These classes can be incredibly hard and you’re not going to be an expert at everything - and that’s fine!

Your classmates are a great resource. If you have a question one of them either has the same one or has the answer lol. I leaned on my classmates hard to get through analytical spectroscopy this year and I’m just a strong supporter of study groups in general (as long as they’re not too big).

Mass spec is love mass spec is life. Know that shit inside and out, especially if you want to do forensic chemistry lol. MS has come up in so many of my courses in this program and so many scientists have stressed its importance in these labs.

On the above note, a lot of my professors have stressed if you want to get into DNA, to know how to properly do dilutions. Certain places will have you do that in the job interview and it’s important to know!

Network lol. It's important; don't burn bridges and try your best at it - you never know where an opportunity is going to come up! Also, if it's feasible in your area, try to find an internship. And plan it early (don't be like me, who procrastinated wayyyyyy too much on finding one) - if you want to do an internship in the summer, for example, some of these places will close their applications by December-March, so you should plan ahead for your own peace of mind asdjfkl.

Stuff more centered towards the future/the actual profession, as per my professors:

Something I’ve heard A Lot from other forensic scientists is that even if you have a specific avenue in mind (like analyst, firearms expert, crim, toxicologist, etc etc etc) it’s okay to deviate from it or to start somewhere else - we’re a really small field and what you want may not be available, so get your foot in the door wherever you can.

Your program counts as experience, something I and other classmates did not know until our advisor told us. A lot of places have "2+ years experience in forensic science" or something like that listed, and that can fully be your schooling lol. I have classmates that were hired while still in our program because they qualified after a year.

Keep in mind that government jobs have a long vetting process - to be a forensic scientist at the NYPD, for example, is a yearlong process and is extremely invasive, and outside of that, other jobs (and internships!) may take up to 6 months to a year to run some checks. If you want to work these jobs, just remember the timespan. Basically don't quit your day job while you do that asdfjkl.

Something I want more practice with personally - almost every class I've been in has said we will testify in court at some point in our career! Again, I don't know where your area is and if it'll be any more or less likely for you, but I think practice in testifying is a great thing to do. Know your cases, be sure to address the jury when asked questions, respond as accurately as possible, etc.

Sorry if these weren't really useful to you, and good luck in your program (and if you ever have questions feel free to message or PM me!). This field is so interesting and there's so many different avenues you can take with forensics; I hope you have a great time with it! <3

[letarasstuff]

One kind of intern

(A/N): This was requested by @greenslifestuff :) It took me a week or two because I had to interact with my friends in order to get the inspiration I needed 😅 Summary: The team gets to work with a gen z teenager. Let’s see how that goes.

Warnings: Swearing and gen z humour

Wordcount: 2k

✨Masterlist✨

___________________________________

“Team, this is (Y/N) (L/N). She will be interning for the upcoming three months alongside this team. (Y/N), these are Agents Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Derek Morgan and Doctor Spencer Reid and our Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia”, Hotch introduces a teenage girl to his team like this happens every day.

“Wait Hotch, we don’t get interns. What is she going to do, no offense, but getting us coffee or what?” Morgan eyes her suspiciously. She looks like any teenager grabbed from the street. A band t-shirt, a torn pair of jeans and a cup from starbucks in her hands. Nothing you would expect to even enter a federal building.

“No offence taken, Agent Morgan. I know having an ugly pickly bitch working with professionals seems weird. It’s just I have summer break and I thought it would be a good thing on my resumé if I already interned in the FBI, because I just graduated and I wanted to go to the academy this fall. But if you wanna do a vibe check with me first, that’s fine by me. Whatever floats your boat.”

The room falls silent. Then out of all sudden everyone turns to Garcia, who puts her arms up in defense. “I don’t even know half the things she said, ask her yourself.”

That’s how the BAU gets their first contact with Gen Z culture and let me tell you it is a wild ride, so buckle up your seats, drink your tea up because we aren’t going to make any stops.

“(Y/N), I need you to come with me. We are going to the M.E. getting the latest reports from our last case”, Morgan tells her while passing her desk. In the blink of an eye the teenager is ready, putting her denim jacket with various pins and bits of patches on.

“Derek, can we get starbucks on the way back? The pumpkin spiced latte is back on their menu and I am on withdrawal. Pleaaaaaasseeee”, she looks at him with a pouty face. Morgan smiles. “Ok, under one condition: We both get one, take awesome pictures and send them to the group chat and then we act like we didn’t get them anything, but we actually buy them their usual.” He got the hang of it pretty fast. “Deal, Sis.”

While they are in the car on their way to the M.E. the agent groans. “Ugh, road work ahead.” “Uh yeah, I sure hope it does!” Morgan eyes her from the side. His whole demeanor says ‘old and confused’.

“What was that, kid?” But (Y/N) begins to laugh. “Don’t you know vines? Short dumb and funny clips people made?” It’s safe to say that this afternoon he learns to speak in vines, getting on Rossi’s nerves because nothing makes sense anymore.

“Ok, I heard you wanted to become a profiler. So I thought I would show you some old cases and then you try to figure out the profile. I’ll present them to you like I do to the team, alright?” JJ and (Y/N) sit in her office, safe from curious eyes. “As right as the law, Ma’am.” 

“Good, this is a case from several years ago. It happened here in D.C. Three men were murdered execution style in the middle of the night in an alleyway. They were all from different backgrounds. The only connection between them was that they were evicted for some form of sexual harassment or assault. The UnSub also had a signature: A shot into their groin while the men were alive.”

Unfaced by the presented facts (Y/N) pops a piece of gum into her mouth. “It do be like that.”

“What?” “I mean, it’s obviously a woman. She experienced any harassment or assault herself. She also has excess to the files, I assume she works as a paralegal, since most of them are women. Female serial killers are extremely rare, but they are better organized. The only thing left to say is good for her getting revenge.” The blonde looks at the teenager with wide eyes.

“I-I guess but you know you can’t say anything like that to Hotch, do you?” She asks concerned. “JJ, I’m dead inside, not dumb. I know this.” But the agent shrugs. “Good. Though I really want to see his face.” “Mood.”

Penelope Garcia is the closest one to relate to Gen Z culture, since a great part of her time is spent on the internet. She happily learns about all the phrases and their meanings as well as the newest trends and hypes.

“Purp is sus, I tell you”, is heard from the lair into the hallway. Spencer and Derek look at each other with concern on their faces. “Do you think they are alright or do we have to-” “IT’S A SELF REPORT I SWEAR PENNY! YOU WORK WITH PROFILERS IN GANDALF’S NAME!” Spencer’s question is answered by that.

“Baby girl, crazy girl, are you doing good? Do you need help or something?” The older one asks warily. But it’s drowned in another screaming match. “I TOLD YOU PURP WAS THE IMPOSTER BUT YOU HAVE TO TELL THEM I VENTED WHEN I DIDN’T! I WANT ALL TIKTOKS I SENT YOU BACK!” “YOU DON’T DARE TO REVOKE MY TIKTOK PRIVILEGES!” “WATCH ME GARCIA!”

“Whoa girls, what about taking a break?” Morgan tries to diffuse the situation. “Yes, I think JJ got new pictures of Henry and Emily brought cookies this morning”, Spencer adds.

The girls, who mere seconds ago were ready to jump each other's throats, look at the other one. “You get the cookies and I go to JJ, deal?” (Y/N) asks. “Deal!” Without sparing the boys another glance they run out of the lair. Their devices are still lit up. A red figure shines into their faces. ‘AMONG US’ is written underneath it. “I think we get too old for this stuff, don’t we Reid?”

Spencer always thought he was young. Of course, his mind is older, but physically he is not that old. But the intern proves him wrong. And boy is he wrong.

“Spencer, is there anything interesting to know today?” (Y/N) takes a seat on his desk, distracting the genius from his paperwork. It is a common occurrence for her to go to him to ask for a fun fact.

“Do you wanna learn something about sloths?” His knowledge (or the writer’s) on this subject is astonishingly big.

“Spill the tea, sis.” “Did you kn- What? But I don’t have tea to spill. And I don’t wanna spill anything, I-” Reid rambles in confusion.

“It’s just a saying, Spencer. There is no deeper meaning to it then ‘Tell me everything about it’. You know, it’s mostly used for gossiping, but I don’t really like to gossip. That’s why I use it in a different context. You got it?” (Y/N) explains it to him in a soft manner, knowing her generation can be complex.

“Yeah, I think I do. Thank you for telling me. I really like the phrase. It has a nice ring. What about you spill the tea about all the phrases you know and I tell you some things from my knowledge?” “I think you got yourself a teacher, genius. But now tell me about the sloths, I love them.”

A few days later Rossi catches her doing some weird moves. “Are you having a seizure or what is your problem, youngster?” Even though he tries not to show it, David took a great liking to (Y/N), thinking of her like a granddaughter. Still, most of her actions confuse the hell out of him.

“I’m practising a dance for tiktok. My friends and I worked on a choreo we wanted to film later. Come here, I can show you.” And that’s what she does in the conference room. The teenager walks him through every move of the choreo, explaining the meaning to it and how it correlates with the song.

“And then you move your arm like that. Exactly like that! You did a great job, David! Are you sure you don’t want to come with me later? We can make you your own account and name it ‘Grandpa-on-tiktok’. You can promote your books over there and it’s a way to float with the trend!”

Seeing her this excited Rossi can’t do anything but agree to the idea. Also, he secretly liked doing the dance thing. It made him feel young again.

“(Y/N), you said you graduated this summer. But your file said you are 16?” Emily asks her one boring day filled with paperwork and countless cups of coffee. “It is what it is”, she mindlessly answers, too focused on filling out the work in front of her.

“I mean yes but how?”

“Emily, smart people exist. I know, coming from me hits different, but here we are.” Finally (Y/N) puts her pen away looking at the raven haired woman.

“What are you talking about? I can’t really follow you.” The more the intern says the more confused gets Emily.

She sighs. “I don’t want to leave you on read here. I kind of am smart somehow. Apparently I was smart enough to skip a grade or two. But it’s no biggie. Many peeps do this, so I don’t sweat it.”

“Even though I feel like you are selling yourself short here, I know you are an incredibly intelligent person. Someday you will be an awesome profiler and any team will be lucky to have you. I really hope we will be the lucky team. But I’m still not sure if this is what I should say in this context.”

“Emily, you are goals. This fam is squad goals. I really hope to be a part of this someday”, (Y/N) admits. “I’m sure Hotch will do his best to get you on the team, you became a great part of it. I can’t imagine a future without you.”

Sadly Prentiss has to get used to a time without the team’s beloved intern. On her last day (Y/N) knocks at Hotch’s door.

“Hey, I wanted to say thank you. The time with you and all the others was amazing and I learned so many useful things for not only the academy but also for my daily life. I really had a glow-up here”, she says after coming in.

Hotch motions towards the chairs in front of his desk. “Take a seat, (Y/N). I got something for you. See it as a compensation for not getting paid for your internship. You really did great work and a better job than some agents, who are doing theirs for many years already but don’t know half the stuff you do. You are a valuable member to the team.”

“Wait, you speak in presence tense. I leave you all this afternoon, you know that, do you?” But the Unit Chief only gestures to a white envelope on his desk. Quickly the teenager takes it and reads it.

“Are you serious Hotchner? Because I will cry you a river if you joke”, she threatens him.

“I’m dead serious, (Y/N). Even though half of your talks are difficult to understand, the other half is twice as useful and important. Additionally to that, you are like a fresh breath of air that the team needed. That’s why a place here will be available for you as soon as you graduate from the academy. I trust you that you will pass with flying colors, I had to promise that to Strauss.”

“Of course, Hotch. I swear on my Animal Crossing Island that I will do my best and more. Thank you so much”, she leaps into his arms.

The others watch the interaction from the bullpen, pretending to not get teary eyed. Their favorite Gen Z Kid will come back to them after all.

Taglist:

Spencer Reid

@calm-and-doctor

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 06

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7.4k [6/6]

notes: we’ve reached the end at last!!! thanks for sticking around through all the sporadic updates, and i hope you enjoy this final chapter!

warnings: some soft, soft smut.

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

The day before your scheduled return to Seoul, your parents decide to throw a joint party with the Jeons. From your bedroom window, you can see the plastic tables and chairs scattered across your adjoining lawns, the tarps and poles that will soon become makeshift pavilions lying in the grass. Though a row of low bushes divides your property, a small stone footpath weaves between the green leaves. You watch Mr. Jeon make his way into your yard, joining your father to unfurl a sign that’s emblazoned with Bon Voyage, {Name}! in bright blue print.

“Noona!” Jimin bursts into your bedroom with zero preamble, the door slamming into the wall behind it. You jump at the sudden intrusion, and flinch when he bounds across the room in two steps and grabs you by the shoulders.

“Ow, Chim,” you grumble, trying and failing to push him away. “Knock much?”

“Help,” he whines, trying to pull you to your feet. “I put too much salt in the marinade, and I just spilled Coke all over the counter. Please come help me.”

You sigh as he casts you the most pathetic look he’s capable of mustering, complete with a quivering bottom lip. Wiggling out of his iron grip at last, you grab him by the wrist and drag him out of your room. “Fine,” you tell him as you pull him downstairs. “You’re lucky I like you sometimes.”

“Love you too!” Jimin singsongs. He swoops in to plant a too-wet kiss on your cheek, and when you squirm in disgust he just giggles and blows you another.

The kitchen, upon your arrival, is empty. “Where’s Mom?” you ask as you grab a rag, tossing it over to your brother so he can clean up the spilled soda.

“She left a few minutes ago,” he replies, sopping up the mess and flinching when some splashes down from the counter onto the linoleum floor. “I think she went to the store to pick up a few things.”

“Food things?” you ask dubiously, eyeing the sizable pile of vegetables and meat on the counter. “Is this not enough? Is the entire neighborhood invited to this thing?”

“You know Mom,” he replies, shrugging. “Just let her have this. She misses having another girl in the house when you’re away. Says Dad and I gang up on her.”

You chuckle. “That sounds about right. On the bright side, though, she only has to deal with you for a few more months.”

“Jeez, that’s weird to think about.” Jimin sidles up behind you and settles his chin on your shoulder. “We’re going to be at the same university soon.”

“Yeah, because you’re a little copycat,” you tease, reaching back to flick him on the forehead. “What’s next? Are you going to start following me around the sandbox again? Come crying to me when someone’s mean to you?”

“Yeah, right.” Jimin steps back and puffs his chest out dramatically. “I’m going to protect you from all those weird college guys, remember? Who else is gonna do it if not me?”

In an instant, your mind goes to Jungkook. Your throat goes dry, and thankfully the jingle of keys in the front door saves you from needing to respond. Jimin’s attention is diverted when your mother steps through with an armful of shopping bags, and you take a moment to shove away all thoughts of your neighbor before following after your brother to help her unpack.

You haven’t seen much of Jungkook since your impromptu sleepover in his room. As your time at home winds to a close, your parents have been increasingly adamant to spend as much time together as possible. Family game nights became routine, and although Jungkook has joined you on a couple occasions, Jimin has seemingly made it his personal goal to ensure that you don’t spend a single second alone with your dark-haired neighbor. Certainly, you’ve texted a bit, but Jungkook’s been picking up more shifts at the restaurant lately and you often see him through your bedroom window returning home after a long dinner shift.

Jimin’s voice draws you out of your thoughts. “Huh?” you ask, blinking, and your brother shoots you an unimpressed look.

“I said, I’m going out back to help Dad with the grill,” he repeats. “Can you bring the cooler out?”

“Oh!” You glance over at the cooler on the ground, filled to the brim with beer and soda. Jimin has a bag of ice in his arms, and you quickly follow him out into the backyard, wheeling the cooler behind you. Together, the two of you push it into an unobtrusive corner of the back porch, and Jimin curses when he upends the bag of ice into it and spills nearly a third in the process.

“Smooth,” you remark.

“Like you could do any better,” is his reply.

It’s just after one o’clock, the sun beaming bright in the cloudless blue sky, when people begin trickling into the backyard where your father and Mr. Jeon have started grilling. You spot Taemin and Minho from where you’re perched on the porch steps, and grin when they wave and begin heading in your direction.

“Heading back to the big city so soon?” Minho asks as he comes to a stop, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “We’re gonna miss you around here.”

“You know you’re always welcome to visit,” you tell him with a smile. “Besides, I’ll be back. I do like to see my family every now and then, you know.”

“When exactly are you leaving tomorrow? Taemin asks curiously.

“Bright and early in the morning,” you reply. “I want to have plenty of time to get settled before I start interning on Monday.”

Minho gives you a squeeze. “You’ll kill it. I know you will.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. You’re about to say more—ask about the rest of their summer plans, maybe—when you spot a familiar dark head of hair exiting the back door of the Jeons’ house. Jungkook is wearing a collared shirt the color of sunshine, the sleeves rolled to his elbows to expose vascular forearms and the silver watch on his wrist. His faded jeans have a rip in the left knee, and you swallow when your gaze automatically trails down to the defined muscle of his thigh, a peek of skin visible through the denim.

Across the yard, your eyes meet. He raises a hand in greeting, his watch glinting in the sun, and you wave back. Everything else seems to fade into the background—Taemin and Minho, the hubbub of the partygoers, even the sizzle of the grill. Jungkook is walking in your direction now, and your throat goes oddly dry at the thought of talking to him face-to-face after nearly a week of intermittent texts and occasional glimpses. Your fingers itch to run through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and your body craves the feeling of his skin against your own. You’d even settle for a simple kiss—the press of his mouth and the slick of his tongue, his palms settling on your hips or looping around to the small of your back to pull you in close.

Needless to say, it’s been far too long since you and Jungkook last slept together. You wonder, vaguely, if there’s any way the two of you might be able to sneak away from the party and head somewhere a little quieter. One last handsy makeout session in his backseat, and one last chance for him to breach your walls with his cock. One last fix of the drug called Jungkook, before you return to your life in Seoul and try to forget the boundaries you’ve crossed in the last few weeks.

Because at the end of the day, Jungkook is your brother’s best friend, and therefore is off-limits. And as if Jimin himself is listening in on your thoughts, your little brother comes bounding out of nowhere, intercepting Jungkook on his path to you and dragging him away to help make more meat skewers for the grill.

The party continues. More people arrive, and you do your best to converse with everyone between bites of food. Many family friends have come out to wish you well, most of whom you haven’t seen in several years, so you put on your best smile and weather the innumerable comments about how much you’ve grown up since you last met. Off in the distance, you spot Jungkook chatting with Junghyun, who has driven in from downtown Busan. The elder Jeon brother has already wished you good luck with your internship, pulling you into a friendly hug when he first arrived, and you would’ve had to be blind to miss Jungkook’s penetrating stare as you hugged him back.

You’re returning from a bathroom break, easing the back door shut, when you are assailed by a tangle of limbs and excited cries. You end up with a faceful of strawberry blonde hair, and laughingly groan as you extricate yourself from the hug, offering a beaming Chaeyoung, Jisoo, and Lisa a grin. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Lisa grabs you by the shoulders and gives you a little shake. “You’re leaving tomorrow! When will you be back again?”

“Winter, definitely,” you promise. “Maybe the summer too, if I don’t have anything else going on.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Jungkook again. He’s looking in your direction, his gaze flitting between the half-eaten burger in his hand and where you’re standing on the back porch with the girls, as if he doesn’t want to get caught staring. The party has been underway for nearly two hours now, and you haven’t even come close to having a conversation with your dark-haired neighbor. It seems as though anytime Jungkook comes within speaking distance, he’s interrupted by friends, family, and at one point, even his family’s dog. Gureum has been a part of Jungkook’s family for as long as you can remember, and though he’s getting rather old, he’s still happily meandering around the yard today. You’ve already given in to his pleading face twice and offered him a bit of food from your plate, and you’ve watched plenty of others do the same. A quick scan of the yard reveals that the little white dog is now fast asleep in a sunny patch of grass, and you chuckle to yourself before your gaze finds Jungkook again. Your eyes meet, just for a second.

“{Name}, honey, can you come here for a second?”

You turn at the sound of your mother’s voice. “Sure,” you tell her, excusing yourself from the group of girls to follow her inside to the kitchen. “What is it?”

Your mom hands you a pile of small paper plates and plastic cutlery. “I’m bringing out the cake,” she says. “Can you put those out for me?”

You nod, watching as she picks up the cake. It’s an impressive two-tiered confection, frosted pale purple and decorated with pink cherry blossoms and the words Bon Voyage! in flowing white script. You make sure to hold the door open for your mother as she exits the house on your heels, and duck your head in embarrassment when a few of your neighbors start clapping at your arrival.

The cake is cut and distributed, and you take your piece over to a shady spot beneath the awning of one of the pavilions your father has assembled. Jimin joins you, wiping a frosting-covered finger on your nose, and you squeal and wipe at it furiously with a napkin before taking revenge. Slowly, the afternoon progresses into early evening, and the party begins to wind to a close. Friends and neighbors begin to trickle out, wishing you well before taking their leave. At the far end of the yard, you see Jungkook talking to Chaeyoung, and wonder what the two could possibly have to say to each other before Taemin and Minho draw your attention away.

“We gotta head out,” Minho says, coming to a stop before you and pulling you into a hug.

Taemin nods, tugging you into an embrace as well. “We’ll see you again soon though, yeah? We’re definitely going to come up to visit you guys at some point.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you tell him. “You’re crashing at Jimin and Jungkook’s though. I’m not taking you in.”

“Cruel, but fair,” Minho says with a laugh. “See ya then, Noona.”

“See you.”

The two depart, and you begin gathering up your used utensils and plates, seeking about for a trash can. You smile at your dad as he walks by, and scratch a sleepy Gureum behind the ears as you pass him. Just as you’ve finally found a trash can and dropped your garbage inside, however, a voice stops you in your tracks.

“Hey, Noona.”

Your heartbeat quickens. Slowly, you turn around, coming face to face with none other than Jungkook himself. His dark hair is ruffled by the breeze, and his silver hoop earrings glint in the late afternoon sun. Tentatively, you offer him a small smile, and he hesitates for a moment before smiling back.

“Hey.”

“You said that already,” you point out, trying to quell the sudden nervousness in your belly and swallowing down whatever moisture is left in your mouth. “Fun party, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods. “Really fun. And the food was great.”

You chuckle. “Yeah. We have our dads to thank for that.”

“Definitely.”

A beat of silence passes, and then two. Jungkook is scuffing his heel against the grass, one hand darting up to scratch his ear, and you are just beginning to wonder at his uncharacteristic awkwardness when he suddenly pulls a bag from behind his back.

“Here,” he says, practically shoving it into your hands. “I—I mean, we—got you a gift. From my family. And me.”

Blinking, you peer down at the green tissue paper peeking out of the top of the bag. “Oh, wow. You… you guys really shouldn’t have.”

“It was my mom’s idea,” Jungkook mumbles, looking anywhere but at you. “You can open it now if you want, though.”

You do. Peeling back the tissue paper reveals two items inside—one of which is a lovely leather-bound planner, complete with a calendar and to-do lists and pages for notes. The other is a small canvas, and your mouth falls open when you see what’s painted across the surface.

It’s the lake house. Behind it, you can see lush green hills and trees, all bordering the rippling expanse of blue water. Jungkook has captured the scene at high noon when the sun is at its peak in the sky, glinting off the lake like diamonds. Off to one side, you spot the canoe roped to the dock.

“Wow,” you breathe, awestruck. “Jungkook, this is beautiful. I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s no big deal,” he says, shrugging and scratching the back of his neck. “I had to rush it a little, between work and all. It could’ve been better.”

“It’s perfect,” you tell him, running a fingertip across the canvas. You’ve always known that Jungkook has a talent for drawing, but you’ve never seen him use paint as his medium of choice until now. “Really. I love it, Jungkook. I’m going to hang it up in my dorm as soon as I get back.”

“Back,” Jungkook echoes. “Right.”

And before you can reply—before you can even inhale to speak—he’s pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms looping around your waist and settling there.

“Good luck with everything,” he says once he’s pulled back. And then he’s turning on his heel and walking away, and you’re left to wonder whether these past few weeks were simply a passing tryst after all.

///

As it turns out, your internship is more than enough to keep your mind from straying toward a certain dark-haired young man. Two months after Jungkook left you high and dry, you’re working harder than you ever have in your life. Your mornings are early and your afternoons run into evenings more often than not. “At least you’re getting paid, though,” Namjoon points out, glancing up from where he’s sitting on the couch when you stumble into your shared dorm one particularly late night. “You could’ve been one of the unlucky bastards who got stuck doing unpaid labor at their internships.”

“Oh, good. At least they’re working me to the bone ethically,” you snort, accepting the wine he hands over. Trust Namjoon to have an extra glass at the ready. Your suitemate, despite his flaws, always seems to know when you need a pick-me-up, and you suppose you can forgive his clumsiness and messiness for that. If he keeps it up, you may even start looking past the heart attacks he causes you every time he enters the kitchen and so much as looks at a knife.

Namjoon chuckles and tops off his own wineglass. “So now what? You hungry?”

“Starving,” you admit. “What are you thinking tonight? Pizza? Chinese?”

“Thai? I’ve been craving it lately.”

“I can do Thai.” You lean in closer as he pulls up the delivery menu on his laptop, pointing to what you want before sitting back and letting him place the order. “Can you get me an iced tea, too?

“Two iced teas, coming right up,” he replies. “You wanna start thinking about tonight’s feature presentation?”

Flopping onto your side, you reach into the bag you dropped on the floor and fish out your own laptop. You select a film from Netflix as Namjoon fetches his wallet to pay for your food, and the two of you settle in to wait as the opening credits of Disney’s Hercules roll.

“I’m not a good singer,” Namjoon cautions as the Muses begin their introductory monologue. “I just want you to know that beforehand. But out of all the Disney films? This soundtrack is unmatched.”

“Damn right,” you reply, clinking your glass against his. “Best soundtrack ever. We’ll both sound like dying cats, and I for one can’t wait.”

Namjoon laughs and leans over to flick off the lights. The room goes dark and the music begins, and you’re both singing along before you even hit the chorus. Spending time with Namjoon is comfortable, and though you’ve already lived together through the entirety of your first year of school, these past two summer months have strengthened your friendship tenfold. He’s almost like a brother by this point, and you wonder, vaguely, whether Jimin would get along with him anywhere near as well as you do.

As if summoned, your phone goes off. Jimin’s name lights up your screen, and you frown curiously at it before unlocking the device and swiping open the message.

[7:56pm] Chimchim: miss me yet? 😚

[7:56pm] You: no way, weirdo

[7:57pm] You: what do you even want anyway? sure you’re not the one missing me?

Immediately, your phone buzzes with a response.

[7:57pm] Chimchim: seriously? offensive

[7:57pm} Chimchim: orientation’s in less than a week or have u forgotten already?? good thing i’m reminding u

Your heart skips a beat in your chest when you realize that you had, in fact, forgotten. You remember your own college orientation vividly—a jam-packed weekend filled with building tours and ample opportunities to talk to current students. Several of your friends, you’d first met that weekend as you all tried to navigate a new chapter of your lives—Namjoon included. It’s how the two of you ended up living together—jammed into a suite with two others who thankfully meshed perfectly with the both of you. Neither Hoseok nor Jennie are here for the summer, but you’ve kept in touch while apart. Both of them poke relentless fun at Namjoon for opting to take summer classes, and you never hesitate to join in on the lighthearted teasing.

[7:58pm] You: oh yeah lol

Your response is casual and calm, but your heart rate is anything but. Jimin coming to orientation means Jungkook is coming too, and the thought of seeing him sends an anxious flurry of butterflies aflight in your stomach. You remember texting him the day after you came back—just a simple photo of his painting, hung proudly on the wall above your desk. He responded with a string of thumbs-up emojis, and that had been that. You’ve barely heard a word from him since, and Jimin’s occasional texts and social media posts are the only reason you know he’s still alive. Hesitantly, you type out another message, thumb hovering briefly over the send button before hitting it.

[7:58pm] You: you and jungkook are driving up, right?

[7:59pm] Chimchim: yep! road trip

[7:59pm] Chimchim: still not convinced jk’s car will make it all the way tho lmao

You think back to Jungkook’s beat-up sedan with its sputtering engine and scratchy seats, and the ominous way the passenger side window sometimes rattled if you slammed the door too hard. Can’t blame you for having doubts, you write back, earning yourself a hearty LMAOOO in response. And then:

[8:01pm] Chimchim: i’ll probably have to do most of the driving anyway

You frown, brows furrowing. Why’s that?

[8:02pm] Chimchim: just a hunch. jk’s been weird lately

[8:02pm] You: …weird how?

[8:02pm] Chimchim: just weird. a little distracted, maybe? he doesn’t answer me when i ask him whats wrong

[8:03pm] You: how long has he been weird?

[8:03pm} Chimchim: idk 🤷‍♂️

[8:03pm] Chimchim: 2 days, maybe 3? i think he might be worried about orientation or college or something. either way i don’t trust him to operate a motor vehicle rn

Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth as you consider your brother’s revelation. It’s perfectly natural to be nervous about something new, but you still can’t help but wonder if Jungkook’s strange behavior might have anything to do with seeing you again. But before you can dwell on it more, your phone buzzes again in your palm.

[8:04pm] Chimchim: i mean srsly he didn’t even hit on mina when we ran into her at jin’s the other day. do u remember her? the girl from the bbq place we went to for grad dinner??

[8:04pm] Chimchim: but on the bright side, it looks like he and chae made up. about time, tbh. things were really awkward for a while

[8:05pm] Chimchim: wait u knew about them, right? they dated for a while?

You take a deep breath before responding, the gears of your brain whirring as you fight to process all of the information he’s dumped on you. Yeah, you write back. Chae told me. They’re okay now?

[8:06pm] Chimchim: yeah. i think they talked at your going away thing

The memory of them chatting in your parents’ backyard resurfaces, and a rush of relief follows it. Even though your conversation with Chaeyoung at the mall confirmed that she was no longer angry with Jungkook, the guilt of sneaking around with him continued to linger in the back of your mind. You’re definitely going to buy her a box of cookies from Kim’s Kitchen as an apology the next time you see her. Maybe even two.

After a few more texts, your conversation with Jimin peters out. He signs off, citing a house party he has to start getting ready for, and you settle back in to watch the rest of the movie with Namjoon, smiling reassuringly when he shoots you a curious look and mouths, everything okay?

Everything is okay, you decide. Jungkook’s weird behavior isn’t your problem, and there’s not a whole lot you could do even if you wanted to, considering how little you’ve spoken in the last eight weeks. That doesn’t stop you from opening up your messages and scrolling down to Jungkook’s name, though. It doesn’t stop you from opening up the last conversation you had—something about a particularly annoying customer at Jin’s restaurant—and scrutinizing every word.

Later that night, just as you’re brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed, your phone buzzes again. The name attached to the text immediately sends your heart into your throat, and you shakily towel off your hands before swiping it open.

[12:25am] Jungkook: i mis s yuo.

Drunk, the little voice in your brain whispers. He’s drunk. Belatedly, you remember the party Jimin had mentioned, and realize that Jungkook must be there as well. Alcohol has clearly loosened him up, enough to instigate this unexpected sentiment, but you are painfully sober. At a loss, you stare at his message until your screen goes dark. Irritably, you wake it up again, unlocking the phone so you can stare some more, and after what feels like an eternity, you type out a response.

[12: 28am] You: drink some water, jungkook

He doesn’t respond. You wait for five minutes, and then ten, but your phone screen remains obstinately dark and devoid of new notifications. Climbing into bed, you check one last time, but there’s still no response from him.

A resigned sigh leaves your lips as you turn off your bedside lamp and plug in your phone to charge. Sinking down into the mattress, you push away all thoughts of Jeon Jungkook as you close your eyes and wait for sleep to come.

///

On Friday night, you once again find yourself working late. Thankfully, Jimin and Jungkook aren’t due to arrive until later in the evening, so you still have plenty of time to change into comfier clothes and eat something before you have to play host.

Or at least, that’s what you thought. When you swing open the front door of your home, however, you’re greeted by two extra pairs of shoes—one of which is a certain individual’s signature black Timberlands, scuffed and worn from years of use. “Joonie?” you call cautiously, toeing off your loafers and skirting around the corner to poke your head into the kitchen. “Are you home?”

No reply. You wander a little further, entering the living room, and that’s where you’re greeted by the sight of your suitemate, his sheepish grin flanked on either side by two very familiar faces.

“Noona!” Jimin is grinning from ear to ear, and immediately skips forward to smoosh your cheeks between his palms. “We got here early!”

You slap his hands away and poke your fingertips into his ribs. “I can see that,” you retort. “What I don’t get is why you didn't bother to tell me.”

Jimin shrugs. “Surprise?”

You sigh and turn instead to Namjoon, who’s watching your exchange with an amused smile. “Thanks for getting them settled in,” you tell him gratefully. “You should’ve called me, though. I would’ve tried to get off work early if I’d known.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Namjoon waves you off. “They got here about half an hour ago, so it wouldn’t have made much difference, anyway.”

“Still, let me thank you,” you insist. “Dinner’s on me tonight, since I have to feed these heathens anyway. Do you want to order something in? Go out?”

“I’m okay either way,” Namjoon says, shrugging, and you turn to Jimin and Jungkook questioningly.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Jimin says. “I think we’re both pretty tired from the drive, so staying in might be nice.”

“Anything’s fine.” Jungkook is staring down at his right hand as if he’s trying to crack a secret code etched in his fingerprints, and when he speaks, his voice is soft. “Whatever you want, Noona.”

You haven’t forgotten about his text from a few days ago, and judging by the way he can’t even look you in the eye, neither has he. It’s strange seeing him here now—wearing ripped jeans and a black t-shirt like he so often does, his feet encapsulated in plain white socks. His hair has grown out since you last saw him, leaving only the barest glimpse of his silver earrings visible beneath the dark, shaggy locks. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to run your fingers through it, but quickly quash that train of thought before it can progress any further.

The group eventually settles on ordering pizza, which you order and pay for on your phone. Conversation flows easily as Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon get to know each other, and when the food arrives, Namjoon pulls out his collection of board games. The remainder of the evening passes in a haze of pizza and game tournaments, and it’s only when midnight has come and gone that you decide to call it a night. Jungkook and Jimin settle into the two empty bedrooms—Jungkook in Hoseok’s and Jimin in Jennie’s—and you bid everyone goodnight before retiring to your own bed.

You don’t miss the way Jungkook’s gaze lingers on your retreating figure, but he doesn’t say anything and neither do you. He’ll be busy with all the orientation events scheduled tomorrow, and you’re planning to spend a good chunk of the day running errands that you don’t have time for on weekdays. The question of why he’d texted you that night remains on your mind, but you don’t want to ask. And you especially don’t want to ask why he’d never responded after that first message. Confrontation has never been your style, and with any luck, you’ll be able to avoid spending extended periods of time with him altogether.

With any luck, this weekend will pass with no further incident, and you’ll be able to spend the remaining few weeks of your summer in peace.

///

It’s just after two o’clock in the afternoon when you return to your dormitory, a grocery bag clutched in each hand and a tote bag draped over one shoulder. You’ve finished up with all your errands for the day, and even managed to get some reading done for one of your upcoming fall classes. Dropping your bags in the kitchen, you stretch your arms overhead lazily before starting to unpack your groceries. Namjoon is holed up in the library working on an essay, and Jimin and Jungkook don’t appear to be around either. A moment of rare quiet is welcome in your normally hectic life, and you take the opportunity to put some music on and change into your comfiest shorts and a tank top.

You’ve just finished popping some popcorn and are settling onto your bed to watch some Netflix when someone clears their throat from your doorway. Startled, you look up, your eyes locking on Jungkook standing there. He’s wearing a loose gray sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, and you swallow when you see the way he’s rolled up the sleeves to expose vascular forearms and the silver watch on his wrist. Jungkook blinks at you silently from behind his dark fringe of hair, and a beat passes before he clears his throat and speaks.

“Hey.”

You straighten up into a seated position, crossing your legs and plopping the bowl of popcorn in your lap. “Hi.”

Jungkook hesitates, then shoves both hands into his pockets. “Can… can we talk?”

“Sure.” You incline your head. “Talk.”

Your curt tone doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Awkwardly, he shuffles his feet for a moment before scratching behind his neck and ruffling his already tousled hair further. “My phone died,” he says, and you blink confusedly at him, twice, before responding.

“What?”

Jungkook winces but presses on nonetheless. “My phone,” he explains. “It died the other night. I was going to charge it before the party, but I forgot to plug it in and then it was too late. I didn’t—” He sighs. “I would’ve texted you back, otherwise.”

Belatedly, you realize he’s talking about his text from a few nights ago and why he never responded. His reasoning is relatively sound, at least, but you still have an unanswered question. “Why?” you ask, your voice soft. “Why did you text me that night? I don’t hear from you for weeks, and then you message me that out of the blue? Why?”

“Fuck, I know.” Jungkook takes two steps into your bedroom, before he seemingly thinks better of it and takes a step back. “I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve texted you more, or earlier, but—” Another sigh, and this time he rakes his hands through his hair and sends his dangling earrings tinkling. “I’m sorry. I really am. I was being a coward, and…”

Jungkook trails off, and you see that his attention has flitted elsewhere. He’s staring at the painting of the lake house, still displayed prominently above your desk, and you see the gears in his head whirring before he speaks again.

“You… you still have that hanging up there?”

You glance at the painting before looking back at him. “Well, yeah. Of course I do. It reminds me of home.”

It reminds you of him, too, but you don’t voice that particular thought aloud. Instead you turn your attention back to your increasingly fidgety companion, leaning back on your hands and regarding him with your head tilted curiously.

“What were you saying about being a coward? What are you afraid of, Jungkook?”

Jungkook rubs his jaw and sucks in a deep breath. “You,” he finally answers, after several beats that feel like several lifetimes. “I’m afraid of losing you. And I feel like I already might have, especially since we left things so weird at the party. I should’ve…” He shakes his head. ”I should’ve said something sooner. I should’ve told you how I really feel, but I was stupid and scared and I just couldn’t find the right time to do it.”

Your breath catches. Your mouth goes dry and your chest feels tight, and when you try to speak, your tongue feels like sandpaper. “I—” you begin, and it’s all you manage to get out. Jungkook is murmuring your name in a voice so gentle that your heart skips two whole beats, and when you look at him again he is much, much closer than before.

“But I guess late is better than never, right?” Jungkook breathes. Stopping at the edge of your bed, he drops to his knees, and you don’t protest when he takes your hands and cups them protectively between his own. “It’s you, {Name}. It’s always been you. I tried to forget about my feelings when you left for Seoul—tried to convince myself that it was just a stupid crush—but nothing I did worked. I couldn’t forget about you. And then you came back, and I just knew.” Gently, he traces a fingertip across your knuckles before looking up and meeting your gaze in earnest. “I’m in love with you, {Name}. I’ve been in love with you for years, and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. And… and I really hope that I haven’t fucked everything up by telling you this now.”

“You—” Your voice sticks in your throat, and you swallow thickly before trying again. “You haven’t. I… I like you, Jungkook. I like you so, so much, and I think I owe you an apology for trying to push you away so much. It’s just that these feelings… they’re so new. And I—well, I don’t know if I love you yet, but I think that I definitely could.”

“Then that’s good enough for me,” he replies, his face stretching into a wide, crinkly eyed grin. “As long as you agree to be my girlfriend, and let me have the chance to make you fall for me.” And when you nod, giggling, Jungkook leans in and presses his mouth to yours.

The kiss is soft and sweet, and lasts several moments before a sobering thought enters your head. You break away, frowning, and Jungkook’s brow furrows as he takes in your expression.

“What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip, worrying at the delicate skin. “This… thing. This relationship—what if it doesn’t work? I mean, god, you’re Jimin’s best friend in the entire world. What if we have an argument? What if—what if we break up?”

“We won’t,” Jungkook replies confidently, lacing his fingers with yours before leaning forward to nuzzle his nose against yours affectionately. Instinct has you leaning into him, seeking out proper contact, and you feel his lips curl into a smile as he indulges you with yet another kiss.

“You can’t know that for sure,” you murmur when you break apart, but your voice is readily lost in the huff of laughter that escapes your companion.

“Maybe not for sure,” he says. “But I’ve loved you since I was about eight, and I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon.”

This time, when your lips meet, there’s a bit more heat behind it. Jungkook curls a hand around your nape to draw you in close, and licks sweetly into your mouth when you part for him. He’s quick to press you down onto your mattress, and you sigh as he trails down your body and takes the straps of your tank top with him. The material falls off your shoulders, leaving just enough room to tug the rest of the shirt down to your waist, and he groans when your bare breasts are freed.

“No bra? Fuck, you’re killing me.”

You arch beneath him, huffing out a breathless little laugh when he seizes the opportunity to envelop a nipple into his mouth. His fingers find the other—squeezing and rubbing and tweaking until you’re quivering in his grasp. “Jungkook,” you breathe, waiting until he lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment. “Jimin—he could come back any minute. Maybe we shouldn’t do this right now.”

Jungkook glances up from where he’s exploring the underside of your breasts, tracing the soft swell of delicate skin with his lips and tongue. “Jimin,” he says, “is at a special session for his major. He won’t be back for hours, so why don’t you relax and let me make you feel good, hmm?”

And, without even waiting for an answer, he drops down to his knees and digs his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts. Your legs are dangling off the edge of the bed, and Jungkook easily tugs the material off them, taking your panties right along with it. Tossing them aside, he doesn’t hesitate to spread your legs and slot himself into the newly created space. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips, and your breath hitches when you glance down the length of your body and see the ravenous glint in his eyes.

There’s no doubt in your mind that you’re wet enough to take his cock right now. You can feel the slick gathering between your legs, and the smirk on Jungkook’s face tells you that he’s noticed it too. Teasingly, he presses an experimental fingertip to your clit, watching in satisfaction as your hips buck off the mattress at the flare of pleasure. Then he’s sliding down, sinking a lone finger into your entrance and curling upward to find the soft spot that he knows will unravel you in a matter of minutes. A gasp escapes you when he finds it, your hips rising again, and he soothes you with a warm palm on your thigh and a sweet kiss to your hipbone.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Jungkook is able to build up your orgasm, but then again, you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. He’s always been a quick study, and you’ve never been sure whether it’s stubbornness or determination that drives him to excel at his passions. Here and now, with two of his fingers buried inside your cunt and a third teasing its way in, you don’t even care which it is. All that matters is the pressure building in the pit of your belly, and the way Jungkook keeps murmuring your name and encouraging you to cum for me, princess. It’s enough to push you over the edge, your back arching off the bed and your lips parting in a moan as you ride out your high.

“So pretty.” Jungkook circles your clit with his thumb, his fingers still sheathed within your walls. “You always take my fingers so well.”

“Think I’d rather take your cock instead,” you reply breathlessly, sagging back against the mattress and reaching for him. Jungkook takes the hint, gritting out a hoarse curse before crawling up your mostly bare body and crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. You grab the hem of his gray sweatshirt, pulling it up and over his head, and are more than pleased to discover he’s not wearing anything underneath. His sweatpants soon follow, Jungkook impatiently kicking the material off his ankles, and you sigh out his name when he wraps you in his arms, skin against skin.

“I’m not going to last very long,” he warns you, his breath a puff of hot air against the shell of your ear. “Promise I’ll make it up to you later. Just wanna feel you right now.”

“Go on, then,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “How do you want me?”

Jungkook groans, no doubt having a furious internal debate with himself, before reaching down and taking his cock in one hand. “Just like this,” he decides, gazing down at the way you’re spread out on your back for him. Deliberately, he settles between your thighs, giving himself a few pumps before positioning himself at your entrance. “Wanna kiss you while I fuck you. Wanna kiss you for the rest of my life.”

He’s pushing forward then, stealing the breath from your lungs along with any thoughts that may have crossed your mind at his last sentiment. Jungkook sinks into you until you’re gasping at the fullness, his hands grabbing at the meat of your hips and pulling you against him with every thrust. He fucks into you with reckless abandon, hoarse praise and gritted curses falling freely from his lips as he uses your body to seek out his own high. Every now and then, his mouth seeks out yours in a sloppy kiss, which you happily indulge as his rhythm falters and becomes increasingly erratic.

Jungkook floods you with his warmth, his arms gathering you up tightly as his cock slowly softens within you. His lips find yours, and this kiss is a simple, tender one—an affectionate press and a crinkly eyed smile that has you automatically smiling back.

“I don’t know why you’re so happy,” you tease, poking him in his slightly sweaty chest. “Jimin’s going to throttle you for this, you know.”

“Worth it,” he replies cheekily. “Anything’s worth it as long as you kiss me better afterward.”

“Gross,” you tell him, laughing. “You’re so lame.”

“But you still like me,” he says with a shrug. Then he grins. “The real question, though, is whether you like me enough to help me move in the fall.”

You hum, hiding your smile. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”

A positively wicked grin spreads across his face and settles there. “Why don’t I give you a preview?”

///

A few weeks later -

Jimin hums softly under his breath as he strolls into his new dorm, a cardboard box cradled in his arms. There’s a growing pile of boxes in the middle of the living area already, and he’s only just found an empty spot to drop the latest when he hears an odd noise coming from the bathroom. A wet, smacking sound, kind of like—

“Jungkook, you dog,” he snorts, throwing the cracked door open. “Get your ass out here and help me unpa—“ He stops in his tracks.

The scene before him doesn’t make sense. Jungkook is standing in front of him with wide eyes and fear in his expression, but that doesn’t make sense. At least it doesn’t until he sees you in the reflection of the mirror over the sink, your clothes disheveled and your lips swollen.

“Wait, we can explain,” Jungkook begins, following the trajectory of Jimin’s gaze and waving his hands in a fluttery panic. “I swear, Jimin, it’s not what you think—“

“That’s my sister,” Jimin says, his voice dangerously calm.

“Yeah, but—”

“You put your hands on my sister,” Jimin continues matter-of-factly, as if Jungkook hadn’t spoken at all. “I’m going to fillet your dick with a dull knife and serve it over rice.”

And before you can catch your breath and open your mouth to stop him, Jimin leaps forward, his fingers aimed directly for Jungkook’s throat.

[theladyofdeath]

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 4}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

Word Count: 2550

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Apollo

– God of light, prophecy, inspiration, poetry, the sun, music and arts, medicine and healing

Aelin tried to convince herself that she got up and got ready two hours early for class because of her busy schedule. She kept telling herself it was for the meeting she had with her advisor, about a possible internship at the end of the semester.

She knew that both reasons, while extremely important, were full of shit. She knew she’d showered, blow dried and curled her hair for Rowan. It wasn’t that she was trying to impress him. She’d already done that and the chance she had to be with him had come and gone.

No, now it was about proving to him that even though this class may be a gen ed, she was taking it seriously.

Dropping the class had crossed her mind. She really didn’t need to take it, she could still find a different one to pick up. But she didn’t want to think about the sort of impression it would leave about her.

If there was anything to know about Aelin Galathynius, it was that she was not a quitter, nor did she run from her problems.

Or heartaches.

With one last look in the mirror, and a whistle from Lysandra, Aelin was out the door and hurrying across campus. She grabbed a coffee on the way, but avoided her usual place, knowing full well that Rowan enjoyed the same famous cafe that she did.

He wasn’t there yet when she got to the hall, but she took the same seat she had the class before.

She wondered if Rowan would be looking for her this time.

She quickly shook the thought away.

With her hot coffee on the corner of her fold up desk, she was pulling out her notebook and a pen, waiting anxiously for class to begin.

For him to walk through the door.

Apparently he liked to be right on the dot, though, because students continued to wander in, but he did not.

She was tapping her pen against her notebook, doing her best not to stare at the clock. She was just anxious for her day to start. It wasn’t that she wanted to see Rowan.

Professor Whitethorn, she amended in her head. She had to quit thinking of him as Rowan. She couldn’t think of him like that anymore, his body pressing into hers, lips on her neck, as he—

Shaking her head, Aelin sighed and suddenly realized that the rest of the class had hushed. She was so focused on reprimanding herself for her highly inappropriate thoughts that she hadn’t noticed him come through the door and begin setting up for class. When she dared to glance towards the front, she found his eyes on her. He quickly looked away, going back to his laptop and setting up the PowerPoint on screen.

Maybe he hadn’t been looking at her.

Maybe it had all been in her mind.

But she didn’t think it had been.

He had been watching her.

“Happy Thursday, class,” he began, as the title page of his presentation flashed onto the board. “Glad to see you all showed up again. Must mean my first class didn’t suck.” Quiet laughter thrummed through the room. Aelin couldn’t muster a laugh, though. “On Tuesday, we covered the basics. So, today… Sorry, we’re doing that again.”

More laughter, especially from the pretty, flirty girls up front.

Aelin couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Which, when she settled her eyes back on Rowan, he definitely saw.

Come on, get your shit together, she chastised herself. With her back straightened, she gave him her full attention.

She took dutiful notes, but his slides didn’t hold much in the way of information. They were mostly headers, with a few bullet points. Most of the important information, information she knew would be critical for homework or exams, came straight from Rowan’s mouth.

It was clear that he loved mythology, that it wasn’t just a class his aunt had tossed his way and told him to figure it out. He was a trove of knowledge and she noticed he had a habit of going on slight tangents when he got going on a topic he was clearly interested in.

After a student asked him to clarify what he meant about Hercules not being Zeus’ only son, he ended up talking for nearly twenty minutes about what the beloved Disney movie had gotten wrong. Aelin had stopped taking notes and was watching him go on and on about how Hades, while god of the underworld, was not necessarily a villain. He just had a job to do. A job that had rules that must be followed, or the consequences could damn not only him, but others involved. His eyes found hers again and the amused smile on her face fell as she made the correlation between their own situation and the story.

They held each other’s gazes for far longer than was appropriate, and Rowan cleared his throat, going back to the PowerPoint, and the  predetermined lesson plans he’d made, which didn’t include children’s movie breakdowns.

She watched him.

She listened.

And she found it all fascinating. 

Rowan peeked at the clock after going on and on, and stilled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I guess I’ll end there. There is an assignment due by tomorrow evening. You can find and submit it online. It’s an opinion piece. I want a little insight as to why you were so interested to take this class, or what you’ve found fascinating so far.” He sat on his desk, his legs hanging over the side, his feet nearly touching the ground as he leaned back on his palms. Aelin found it charming. “You’re going to write a short essay telling me of your favorite deity. It could be one I’ve talked about so far, or one I haven’t. It’s your choice. But, tell me why they are your favorite. Give me a little depth. And, remember, this is a college course. Grammar counts.”

The clock struck nine-thirty and everyone began packing up. Aelin had been so captivated by his voice that she had to snap herself back to reality.

She quickly packed up her bag, alongside the other students around her. She noticed then how young they all were, and she was willing to bet that she may be the only senior on the roster. As she was descending the stairs, she found Rowan’s eyes on her again, but he looked away as his attention was taken, thanks to the group of girls who’d been sitting in the front row. She heard vague questions of whether they could all write about Aphrodite, since they all related to her.

The scoff Aelin thought she’d kept to herself had apparently been out loud, since not only Rowan looked at her as she passed, but so did the three girls. With his attention on her again, she decided to give him a little wave.

“See you later, Professor Whitethorn.”

If there was some extra sway to her hips, it wasn’t on purpose.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Two and a half hours later, Aelin was starving. She’d just gotten out of an extremely complicated lab and she could barely focus over the growling of her stomach. Twice, the instructor had looked over at her, half expecting to find a dog stashed under the table she was working at.

So when the class let out, she was hurrying toward the cafeteria ready to get a salad from the salad bar and a big ass slice of pizza.

It was all about balance. 

As she was waiting in line to fill her plate with salad, she heard a voice behind her.

“Are you actually getting lettuce or just filling your plate with ham, cheese, and croutons?” 

Aelin looked over her shoulder to find Chaol, her ex, suppressing a smile.

Aelin chuckled. “If it’s the same price, you may as well pile up on the good stuff.” 

Chaol gave her a small smile. “Fair enough. It’s good to see you, Aelin. You look good.”

Things hadn’t ended the best between her and Chaol, but that had been just after freshman year. At least now when they ran into one another, they could have nice little conversations like this one.

No hard feelings.

“You too,” she said, and he did. He’d been in an accident the year before. They weren’t sure he was going to walk again. In all honesty, it was just good to see him on his feet.

“How long until your class?” He asked, sliding his tray along behind hers.

She glanced down at her watch. “About forty five minutes. You?”

“This is my long break,” he sighed. “I’ve got an hour and a half, but didn’t feel like leaving campus. Want to have lunch with me?”

“Sure.” Her smile wasn’t forced, it was easy and she was glad they could even do this, when three years again, they could barely be in the same room.

“I assume you’re getting a piece of pizza after this,” Chaol said with a smirk, nodding towards her plate. “So I’ll grab us a table while you get the rest of your lunch.”

She scoffed but nodded, and went off to get a slice of pizza. When she ordered her pizza, she also got a slice of cheesecake. It was his favorite, something she hadn’t forgotten, but it didn’t hurt that she liked it, too.

Finding him in the cafeteria, she sat down at the table across from him. “How’s Yrene doing?”

He blushed, and Aelin had to admit it was adorable. After his accident, he’d fallen for his physical therapist, and she was just as smitten with him. It must have been all the one-on-one sessions, because Chaol had never been one to let someone in. Aelin had met Yrene early in her med classes, but Yrene had specialized in PT and graduated in less than three years, taking as many classes as she could manage and even studying through the summers as well.

“It’s going good,” he said, at last. “We, uh, just moved in together, actually.”

Aelin lifted a brow. “That was fast.”

Chaol shot her a look.

Aelin laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, good for you. I like Yrene. A lot. You two are good together.”

Chaol cleared his throat before taking a bite of his salad. “Thanks.” 

Aelin chuckled, taking a bite of her pizza.

Chaol blinked. “What?”

“You get so uncomfortable when it comes to feelings,” she said. “Always have.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “That’s not true.”

Aelin stopped mid-chew and raised a brow.

Even Chaol couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What about you? Seeing anyone?”

Aelin hesitated, then said, “No.”

A slow grin appeared on Chaol’s mouth. “Didn’t sound so sure about what one.”

Aelin shrugged. “Better be nice or I’m not sharing this magnificent cheesecake with you.”

Holding up his hands in placation, Chaol went back to his salad. Rowan was a dangerous topic, one she wouldn’t share with anyone but Lysandra, so she summed it up quickly. “Met someone I thought I hit it off with. Turns out we didn’t work.”

He slowly nodded. Aelin knew he’d had a couple failed relationships between her and Yrene. “I get it, I’m sorry. Still sucks.”

Shrugging again, she turned to her salad. “It happens. Not a big deal. So if you’re living with Yrene, does that mean you and Dorian broke up? Or is he playing house with you, too?”

Chaol leveled her with a look. Chaol and Dorian had been best friends long before they came to the University of Orynth. They were both from Adarlan, both trying to get away from overbearing fathers, and decided college across the country was the way to do it. They’d been roommates every year and Aelin couldn’t even imagine Chaol living with anyone except Dorian. But now he was. “He moved into an apartment with Manon this semester when I moved in with Yrene.”

Aelin blinked. “Blackbeak? He moved in with Manon Blackbeak?”

Nodding, Chaol went on. “Apparently, they’ve been dating for about a year, without anyone noticing.”

Something in the way he said it told Aelin that he had noticed, but when Dorian had his mind set on something, there was no stopping him. And apparently, he’d decided to date one of the most terrifying women on campus.

Aelin’s response was eloquent. “Wow.”

Chaol grinned. “I like it when you’re caught off guard. It’s satisfying.”

With a scoffed she nudged his leg with the toe of her sneaker. “Well, I don’t. Dorian will be getting a very angry phone call this afternoon.”

“I’ll be sure to give him a warning,” Chaol promised.

Aelin chuckled, taking the last bite of her pizza. “It’s good to see you all happy, though. Really.”

Chaol’s eyes softened. “Thanks, Aelin.”

She nodded. “Even if I am terrified that Dorian will get eaten alive.”

Chaol laughed, and she had forgotten how nice Chaol’s rare, hearty laugh was.

She meant it. She was so happy for them, both of them. It was interesting how things changed over the course of a few short years.

Their conversation continued, as did the laughs, and before she knew it, Aelin glanced down at her watch. She had less than fifteen minutes to haul ass back to the nursing building for her next class. Chaol, who had much longer to sit with nothing to do, assured her that he could handle her trash and told her to get to class. With a hug, and a promise that they’d have dinner soon, all of them, even Manon, Aelin was hurrying out of the cafeteria building.

Somehow, the entire time she’d been having lunch with Chaol, she hadn’t noticed the set of pine green eyes watching her.

Rowan’s own break had been at the same time as hers, but the gen ed building was much closer than wherever she was having to run off to, so he had longer to sit and— there was no denying it— brood. They were halfway across the room, so he couldn’t hear any of their conversation. He had no clue who the tall man was she smiled at so often, but clearly they were very familiar with each other with how easily they talked. And he made her laugh. A lot.

Rowan wasn’t sure why that was what grated on his nerves the most, but it unsettled him.

Seeing Aelin with someone else, someone clearly her own age, it all unsettled him. He didn’t like it. Almost as much as her parting words in class had.

See you later, Professor Whitethorn.

It’s like she was mocking him, yet at the same time, she clearly wasn’t. She was doing exactly as he’d asked of her, seeing him as her professor, not as her boyfriend.

No, he reprimanded himself. Not boyfriend. Hookup.

They’d had sex one time, that didn’t give either of them any claim over the other. It was a hookup and nothing more. And she was his gods-damned student.

She was off limits, in every way possible.

Yet he couldn’t figure out why seeing her with someone else, someone she should clearly be interested in instead of him, had him seeing red.

[bukojuiice]

˗ˏˋ@bukojuiice’s BNHA masterlistˎˊ˗

REQUESTS: [CLOSED]

© bukojuiice - all rights reserved. please do not repost, distribute, copy, or plagiarize my work. please ask for permission if you wish to use my work for asmr or for voice overs. thank you!

➸ Headcanons

♡ ྀ  “midoriya, bakugo and todoroki cramming school works with their S/O”

♡ ྀ  “baby it’s cold outside.” (katsuki bakugo christmas hcs)

♡ ྀ  “going to Universal Studios Japan with them”  

♡ ྀ  “how you spend a virtual valentines date in quarantine w/ them” 

♡ ྀ   what happens when the bakusquad babysits Katsuki’s daughter? 

♡ ྀ     i like you a latte. (Coffee Shop AU! Headcanons)

♡ ྀ what they would be like as disney princes

♡ ྀ their wedding day with you

♡ ྀ the lovey-dovey things they do with you while you're both stuck at home during quarantine

♡ ྀ  the kinds of movies he’d watch with you.

♡ ྀ when he does the lip bite

♡ ྀ  when they read self-insert fanfiction of themselves

♡ ྀ cat ears or maid outfit?

♡ ྀ     how dekusquad + bakusquad comfort you after getting your heartbroken

♡ ྀ   mha boys accompanying you to buy lingerie

➸ Izuku Midoriya

Fics ↝

♡ ྀ  I will hold on to everything we got. A quitter, regretter and forgiver is everything I’m not.

(↳  unprompted and unexpected goodbyes are the worst. how are you going to be able to tell izuku the fact that you were moving away from the city that the two of you have lived in, grew up in, and soon became the place where the two of you fell in love with each other? how could you let this precious cinnamon roll go?)

♡ ྀ  she’s not afraid of scary movies, she likes the way we kiss in the dark.

( ↳  it is your weekly movie night with Izuku and co, but whilst waiting for your other friends, you and your boyfriend had the most wonderful idea of watching a gory horror movie.)

♡ ྀ as the world caves in

( ↳ no one else could ever carry the burden that Izuku holds in his hands. But when a girl from his past helps bring him to a realization, he begins to contemplate on whether or not sacrificing everything that you love to become a hero is worth it all.)

➸ Katsuki Bakugo

Cuddle Buddy! (Social Media AU)

Katsuki’s Convenience (Social Media AU)

Fics ↝

♡ ྀ  thank god for plot twists like you.

( ↳  Katsuki barges in your dorm room after class to see you crying in your bed with your phone in your hand… but why exactly?)

♡ ྀ  the s in studying stands for sexy times (implied smut!)

( ↳  katsuki is helping you study for your finals. but to no avail, none of the articles you were reviewing were processing inside your mind at all. until, katsuki had thought of a great idea to help you study. a spicy one at that.)

♡ ྀ  you fell from the sky into my lap (smut)

(  ↳  You and Katsuki become one as the two of you get in the mood with the music on his Spotify playlist.)

♡ ྀ  my world is changed and it’s cradled by the comfort that is you.

(  ↳  After receiving a quarterly report on the status of your hero internships and as a 3rd year student of UA Academy, your day is ruined as soon as you began to read it’s contents. Your explosive boyfriend does not want to see you like this. But how can he possibly cheer you up?)

♡ ྀ   like the soul of honey 

( ↳ Christmas finally approaches and your daughter, Hikari, can’t wait to spend it with the best parents ever.)

♡ ྀ  you got questions, i got answers tonight, babe. (smut!)

(  ↳ you and the bakusquad drag bakugo to a short vacation after such an intense week of hero work, much to his annoyance. however, his stress and pent up energy was more than you expected, so you knew exactly how to release all his frustrations.)

♡ ྀ  fix you. (studio ghibli au! princess mononoke au!)

(  ↳  Katsuki Bakugo is the righteous yet arrogant village prince of the east. The entire village relies on him for protection and for guidance, further inflating his ego. however, after a cursed boar attacks him and the curse is passed on to him as a poisonous mark on his arm, slowly consuming him until he becomes a demon himself. he is exiled without hesitance from his village and is to go on a journey to look for a cure, a journey he might never come back from. With the help of two of his most trusted allies, he embarks on a journey to look for the gods of the forest in where he meets a girl (just as striking as him) who brings him back down to earth, saves him and make him experience a true life worth living.)

♡ ྀ  25 lives (time traveler au!)

(  ↳  After losing the love of his life in a brutal villain incident, Katsuki Bakugo had lost a part of him. Nothing and no one could ever bring her back. He became the shell of a person he once was; fiery, bright, and the driven #2 Pro-hero in the country. He continues to live life with guilt, all hope still lost until he is gifted a time device that can transport him to parallel universes, dimensions and alternate worlds, where he begins his quest to find his lost love. Crossing a hundred of realities and living twenty-five lifetimes just to bring her back into his arms. )

♡ ྀ to the most explosive boy i’ve ever loved before

(  ↳  six letters. one for every boy you’ve ever loved. The letters for your eyes only, filled with all the words you could never say. until, one day, they start appearing out of nowhere into your life again, and your love life goes from imaginary to out of control.)

♡ ྀ  lovesick girl

(  ↳  your planned birthday surprise for katsuki takes a turn for the worst when you’re suddenly struck by a cold, prompting your dynamite boyfriend to take care of you and shower you with love and affection on his special day.)

♡ ྀ nicotine and faded dreams  (smut!)

(  ↳  Fame. Success. Glory. Bakugo’s had and seen it all, being a part of one of the biggest bands in the world. All he’s ever wanted was (Y/N), who comes back into his life just in time for the last leg of the band’s European tour. Bakugo thought that after making it big he wouldn’t have to face the muse for their most successful song any time soon. But a trip to Venice organized by scheming band mates has him stuck in a car with that very same muse. or Rock bands, a love Bakugo’s been trying to run away from and a cleverly schemed road trip: what could go wrong?)

♡ ྀ the morning afterglow

(  ↳ basking in the hues of wonderment that is the morning sun with your explosive boyfriend by your side was truly a dream. lingering in the bed much longer was an absolute must. these are one of those days.)

➸ Todoroki Shoto

Fics ↝

♡ ྀ  when you kiss me, heaven sighs.

( ↳  you and Shoto arrive in the city of love.  the day seems perfect until things go awry.)

♡ ྀ   a love like the movies

(  ↳    Shoto spends his only day of rest and relaxation by watching iconic tv shows and sitcoms with you.)

♡ ྀ   my youth is yours.

( ↳  shoto todoroki entered college with one thing in mind; be able to graduate and follow in his family’s footsteps. however, college had different plans for him. and meeting the one he would spend the rest of his life with was one of them.)

♡ ྀ merry go round of life (studio ghibli au, howl’s moving castle au)

( ↳ shoto todoroki is a magical prince who yearns for freedom. with the entire country against him, and the freedom he ever so wanted barely in his grasp- he seeks solace in a girl who works in a hat shop. she was his comfort in days full of disaster and war. and ever since then, he has finally found a reason to live.)

♡ ྀ something in the rain 

( ↳  you and shoto were once childhood best friends and sweethearts who had lost touch and communication. 12 years has passed since then, and on a fated summer day in june, there was something in the rain that brought two lost souls back to each other’s arms.)

  ♡ ྀ  are you feline what i’m feline? (smut!)

( ↳ blessed with a quirk that can temporarily transform any human being into any living thing they want through the means of potions and concoctions, you brew up a cat girl potion to surprise shoto for your second year anniversary. however, some accidents and mishaps happen, and you’re welcomed home by a handsome cat boy instead.

♡ ྀ  if i could tell her

( ↳  in where shoto todoroki is hit by a sudden realization that the love of his life was right in front of him all along and all it takes is for her to cross the crossroads for him to finally realize.)

♡ ྀ written in the stars

( ↳ shoto takes you out on a special date. a date that entailed love in all it’s bare simplicity. love in all it’s highs and lows, and love that is worth being written in the stars.)

➸ Eijiro Kirishima

Fics ↝

♡ ྀ  I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover.

(  ↳ It is your 1st year anniversary with Kirishima. With no idea how celebrate it, Kirishima asks for the aid of Bakusquad and they have very interesting ideas and plans to say the least. Will he succeed and plan a perfect surprise for you?)

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hi!! I was wondering if maybe you could write a Wade x plus size reader? Maybe she’s an ex pro thief and gets put with him for a mission or smth?? I got no idea man just have fun with it aye

Thank you for the request!!!!! Sorry for the wait!

I wasn't sure if you wanted it to be dirty or not so I sectioned that part off in case it's not what you're looking for :)

You are my first ever request! So, thank you, thank you, thank you, and I hope you enjoy it <3

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Thieving, being exceptionally attractive while doing it. Wade on his best behaviour, Smut is sectioned off.

You haven't accepted a mission in 4 years.

You got out of the business and left those “friends” and “friend circles” behind you after you scored your dream internship. 4 years and you were running your own team and writing a semi successful blog. It was a quiet life, and you enjoyed it immensely. You liked your team members, and you felt they found you a fair and caring boss. Your cat Mr. Sparkles was a healthy weight and had finally committed to using the litter box.

You don't know why you answered when he called you, you don’t know why you agreed to such fuckery. But here you were pulling out a familiar black box out of the bottom of your cluttered closet. You picked it up and placed it on your bed. The dark colour contrasted with your bright and colourful décor. Something you found oddly reflective, once you moved on from that part of your life nothing was dark. Everything in your apartment was covered by color and patterns that made you happy.

You opened the box. You and Mr. Sparkles looked at the contents like there was a wild octopus about to come flying out of it.

“It was the right thing to do.” You said out loud. “And it's going to pay well.”

Pulling the tight outfit over your curves felt better than you thought it would. You figured that it would cause you panic or anxiety. Instead you felt a wave of confidence looking yourself over in the mirror that hung on the back of your bedroom door. Normally you were covered in bright flowy clothes, that's what you liked. Your whole life was built upon being invisible since you were little. Now that you were in charge every day was a celebration in its own way. However this made you feel sexy, the outfit was sleek and left nothing to the imagination. Pulling your long hair into a tight french braid you were ready to get out there and do some thieving.

You kissed Mr. Sparkles and gave your aloe vera plant a light touch on your way out the window. It was a hot summer night and the air was muggy. These were your favorite kinds of nights to sit out on the fire escape, have some drinks, read books, and watch the city. It was lonely, but enjoyable nonetheless.

You got up to the roof and plotted your course to the impossible house. You misstepped a couple of times before falling into your usual rhythm. You contemplated whether you were doing this because the small piece of art should be with the family it belongs too. Or if you were doing this because you had some kind of Ocean’s 11 complex that kept you hungry for such challenges. It was an impossible place to break into, the floor of the old house containing the art work was covered with laser security. A piece of knowledge that should make your stomach flip, but only makes your heart feel funny.

You got yourself into position on the roof of the low building that was across the street, you took a few minutes to survey and eventually came to the conclusion that conditions were perfect. You made your way to the 3rd floor balcony. You knew of the owner’s, an awfully cruel man and his lover. They were asleep on the 5th floor of the house. Well, city mansion? Whatever, the point is it didn't feel like a home, it felt like something a royal family would keep when they came to visit. Lots of expensive art and velvet curtains. Massive gold and crystal chandeliers hung from mirrored ceilings framed with fancy crown molding. You did your research in the few hours you had after the job request had come in, there was a - *insert super fancy techno security laser system name here.* And it was said to be unbeatable. No gymnast or other cat-like thief had been able to tango with it. You had been challenged by its precursors but had got out of the game by the time this puppy had made it out on the market.

You picked the lock on the double doors, and slid past the heavy curtains and disabled the basic alarm system for the floor. Surveying the area you saw the lasers slowly dancing like it was a Pink Floyd tribute at the local planetarium. (something you attend regularly) You took a deep breath and got ready to disco your way across the floor to the small framed painting of a sun set. You put a headphone in and set the song *put on a song you would rob a bank to*. You began the journey. People often felt that your size and shape made you incompetent or ungraceful. You learned early on in life not to listen to stupid people say stupid things. You were the best, perhaps because you weren't afraid to look stupid or ridiculous. You bended and snapped, ducked and dodged, twirled and flipped. And just like that you reached your target. The second you lifted it off the wall, the lasers stopped. You pulled your knife and twirled around ready for a fight. What you saw was not what you expected, across the room none other than Wade freaking Wilson was looking at you.. Normally you hated being stared at like that, but he was a “friend” you found particularly challenging to leave behind. The whites of his mask were wide. After making a whole bunch of strange gestures with his hands, he held up a finger motioning you to be quiet. He disappeared towards what you figured would be the staircase going up to the next floor. If he gave you a clear shot at an exit you knew he had trouble with him. So you took your out.

You got back up on the rooftop across the street, you grabbed the bag you left there and secured the painting. You pulled out a large black piece of cotton and tossed it around your shoulders like a shall. This made your outfit look less stealth and more passion for leather/night out on the town. Making your way down the fire escape on the side of the building you saw the target house explode.

I guess Wade hasn't changed any.

You picked up the pace feeling anxious to get to Sister Margrets. Making your way through the city unnoticed, you went into the shitty establishment through the alleyway door. You wasted no time moving through the hallway into the servers entrance spitting you out behind the bar. You kept by the entrance which kept you out of sight, you didn't want to see any more friends tonight. Weasel jumped when he turned around and saw you there looming in the shadows, spilling the drink he had just made.

“Fuck” He quickly remade the drink then moved back to where you were standing. He had a large envelope of cash for which you handed him the back pack. You felt slightly relieved.

“Hey I know you moved on, but thanks for this.”

“No problem”

You turned around and went out the way you came in. Opening the door that leads back to the alley way, you notice a very large and slightly singed body blocking your exit.

“Stay for a drink?” His voice caused something in you to stir. Something you were not going to explore.

“Sorry Wade but no can do” You pushed past him and began walking down the street.

“Pretty pleaseeeee” he said with a sing song voice. You tried not to smile. He caught up to you so he was walking beside you. “If your not a big drinker anymore we could go for diner, tacos!, Sushi, chicken nuggets, you always loved a good chicken nugget” You tuned him out as he kept chattering a list of every food he could remember eating together. You had to figure out somewhere to go as you weren't leading him back to your apartment. Going in random directions, he spoke up.

“I know you live on *Insert cute street name here*”

“What the fuck Wilson?”

“Well you disappeared and I wanted to make sure you weren't being unalived. This means if we head back to yours we can do take out and homemade drinks, which in my opinion is much better anyway. I make the best margaritas in the city.”

You started the walk back towards your apartment. Trying desperately to come up with a way to leave him at the front of the building. The thought of him in your very personal, very colourful, even bordering on childish apartment made you unbelievably anxious. Every time you looked over at his slightly charred body you couldn't help a strange feeling welling up inside you. You got to the front door to the building and turned to look up at him. There was a long pause as you struggled for words.

“It's alright. It was a nice walk.” You could hear the layers of sadness underneath his tone. You were going to tell him that it was a nice walk and that maybe one day when things were better for you they could get that drink. Then you were going to threaten him into keeping everything a secret.

“I don't have stuff for margaritas.” The wrong words left your mouth but for a fleeting moment you actually didn't want him to leave.

“Are you sure?” Hey sounded very serious which caught you off guard and confused you a little.

“Yeah, normally I just drink stuff out of a can” You were terrible at mixing drinks, they were always way too sweet and strong and lead to trouble. Wade gave a big laugh. “Are you okay to pick up the stuff if I get changed?”

“You betcha.” He did a twirl, blew you a kiss, then headed down the street.

You dashed up to your apartment and started to hide your more personal stuff. Grabbing an armful of clean laundry off the couch, tossing it into an empty bin in the closet. You were so busy trying to hide your stuffed animals and random fan art, that you didn't notice him standing in the fire escape landing looking at you from the large open window.

“Damn. This was not what I was expecting.” He said, sounding surprised. “This isn't what your old place looked like at all”

“Uh” Your face got hot and you refused to look at him. “I ah don't have people over so um yeah. You can go now.”

“Nonononononono. This is a huge bit of progress from everything being varying shades of grey and uncomfortable.” Wade took the place in as he made his way to your kitchen. Placing the big brown bags on the counter top, and sliding the blender out from against the bright backsplash.

"Uh I'm going to get cleaned up. Help yourself to everything." You ran into the bathroom and freshened up and were very grateful to be out of the leather and into your summer pj's. They were more on the revealing side but you never found Wade the type to care or be creepy.

Coming out you found him very comfortable whirling around the kitchen. It looked like he had made a giant frying pan of pad thai and the blender was full. Turning around to see you he picked you up and sat you on the counter top like you were nothing more than a bottle of the many sauces he currently had out. He handed you one of your favorite rainbow glasses filled with margarita. Your brain was still trying to calm down from him picking you up like that.

"Thanks" you said with an even redder face.

"No problem, hot stuff" he divided the food into two plates, you led him out to sit on the fire escape with you. It was a sacred space, it felt weird to be there with a real live person. After the most delicious plate of food ever, many drinks, and laughs about the good old days things quieted down leaving a thick tension between the two of you. You realized you owed him an apology of sorts.

"Wade, I'm sorry I didn't give you a proper goodbye. I just had a life of running and I couldn't risk anyone fucking me over again."

"It's alright babe. I understand why you did it." His voice was low and sad and it made your heart hurt. You didn't want the night to end.

"Thanks for keeping my place here a secret."

"No problem. Do you think mayyybe now that I know about your situation we could do this again sometime?"

"You have no idea how nice that would be." You really meant it having him around was the most fun you'd had in a very long time. You didn't have to pretend or beat around the bush about anything with Wade. Nothing was too dark or silly or messed up.

"Well I guess this is my cue." He made to stand up but you grabbed his knee without thinking.

"Uh if you want to. You could also stay for a while." He turned his head to the side, bright eyes looking you over. "You could take a shower and I've definitely got a shirt and some boxers I could lend you." His eyes got wider. "They're mine. They're really…. comfy…" you would never understand how he made you so embarrassed.

"Uh, not sure about that… it just…" he motioned to the rest of his body.

"I've seen your face. It won't bother me" you looked up at him with empathetic eyes, part of you hoping that maybe they came across as bedroom eyes. You gave yourself a mental slap.

"If you're uncomfortable, that's okay too." You said, giving him a kind smile. You could tell there was an internal battle. So you gave him a minute.

"Alright that sounds nice. It's a fucking mess under here tho."

You went into your bathroom and found your gentlest scent free soap and a soft towel. Then into your room to find a giant t-shirt and your biggest pair of boxer shorts.

You put it into a nice pile in the bathroom.

"Okay there's some nice soap, it's natural scent free, made of angel's tears or some shit and a clean towel and clothes in there for you."

Wade shifted around you into the bathroom. "Thanks"

You flopped onto your bed and looked up at your glow star collection that littered the ceiling. You heard the water start running and you closed your eyes. Until your herd some very loud and off key Britney Spears. You couldn't help but laugh. Soon enough he was out and flopped onto the bed next to you.

"Man this is the best sleepover ever."

"If this has been your best sleepover with a chick I feel sorry for you. And her." You joked.

"Sorry enough for a pity cuddle." You know what the look he gave you meant. He was testing the waters to see what kind of night this was gonna be. You couldn't help but feel the need to challenge it.

"We could cuddle… or we could do other stuff then cuddle." You'd thought of all the reasons this was a bad idea. But voices weren't loud enough over the sound of your heart beating. He leaned in closer, fingers brushing your cheek.

"You sure that's not a margaritas talking?"

"Very sure." You said eyes locked with his.

"Why now?" It was a good question. One you had to think about.

"I don't think I ever was really myself. Like I was as much of myself as I could be while hurting that much. Now I'm happy and I enjoy things differently"

"Hmmm I noticed that. I think I got to know you more in the past few hours than I had when we were friends. You actually laugh now. At jokes and not just crazy like when things are exploding" he moved his hand to run through your hair and you couldn't hold back a soft moan. It had been so very long since someone had touched you.

You felt his lips press into your forehead. You'd thought about Wade before but he was in a relationship, then she died, and Wade wasn't himself for a long time. You'd figured if you were something he wanted he'd make it clear considering the dude flirted with everyone. You'd always had a secret fear that maybe you went his type. Vanessa was short and very tiny, other than her you were only sure of one other and that was Cable, who was serious, fit, tall, and massive. You were a good height and curvy as all hell. Suddenly you felt self conscious. But then he put his hands on either side of your face tilting your head up to meet his. You opened your eyes and they focused in on his lips. They were so close it caused the air in your lungs to get stuck.

"You're pretty quiet. You sure you wanna try to do other things. We can jump right to cuddling if that's better for right now?"

You looked up to meet his eyes.

"Is that what you want?" You tried your best to have it come out casually.

"Not really."

Your eyes migrated back down to his lips and you shuffled closer. You wanted to kiss him so badly you felt like your body was on fire.

"You can take whatever you want baby"

******************PSA: Dirty stuff below ;)*********************

That's all the permission you needed. You moved in and softly pressed your lips into his, then took things deeper. It didn’t take much for your breathing to become ragged, you were trying desperately to take the kiss further.

Eventually you bit his bottom lip and whimpered, finally he agreed, his hands tightened on your face and your tongues started to battle it out. You wanted to win, so you moved to straddle him. Finally accomplishing some friction between the two of you, you could feel your panties sliding against your wet folds. This only lasted for a few glorious seconds, before he flipped you on to your back quickly moving to pin your arms above your head.

He started moving south leaving a red hot trail of destruction behind him. There was only so much your tank top would allow, Wade seemed very content palming your right breast while biting on the flesh beneath your left collar bone. You on the other hand wanted your goddamn clothes off.

You tried to break his grip and moaned when you realized such a task would only be accomplished by hurting him. He really had you trapped there, a piece of knowledge that only made you want your clothes off more. His grip on your breast tightened and his smirking lips took a long pull on the hardened nub that was poking up benthe the cotton of your top. You couldn't help your back arching. Finally, after paying respects to your other breast, he pulled back to look at you. He squeezed your wrists.

“Stay”

God he was so bossy. Something that divided you internally. A part of you wanted to push it, see how hard he would dig into you, and the other part was desperate to behave and be good. You decided you would be good, for now. He sat up, leaning back on his knees in between your legs. Slowly his fingers brushed across the soft skin of your stomach, then his hands ran up along your torso taking your shirt with them. Feeling his scarred hands trail lightly across you sent shivers through your body. You felt him cup and knead your breasts for a moment before pulling your top over your head. He took a long look at you which made you feel delicious. No one had ever pulled out this side of you before. Kissing down your stomach he stopped at the waistband of your shorts. He took your left leg and used it to flip you over, somehow taking your shorts off at the same time. There you were ass up naked and loving every second of it. His big hands came down to smack your ass, a loud noise of please ran out of your mouth along with most of the air in your lungs. Enjoying the response he did it again then started kneading the flesh.

“Fuck you are so fucking sexy.” You felt his hands slide down to grip the tops of your thighs. You arched your back further resting your head on the bed. “Good girl.” The words hit you like a bullet but before you had time to find your footing his hot mouth was all over you wet folds.

His skilled tongue painting some kind of masterpiece, he was touching you everywhere but where you really desperately wanted it. But this seemed to be the way he operated, and you weren't complaining. After feeling like he had been everywhere, he started to circle that tight ball of nerves and you couldn't help but let out a shout. Pleasure was ripping through your body, things were starting to get hot and tight inside you, when all of a sudden those glorious lips closed in and created some heavenly suction. You couldn't stop your hips from bucking, this earned a heavy slap on your right ass cheek.

“Fuck fuck fuckf cukkkk ah” It quickly became too much, your orgasm hit you like a train, whole body tensing up then finally crashing down. Wade kept up the rhythm letting you ride it out. Finally pulling away when it became too much. He snaked his arm up your front to grab the front of your neck pulling you up on to your knees, angling your face so he could kiss you deeply. Putting on a show of how good you tasted. After a long moment of heated kissing, he positioned you so you were laying on your back again. Giving you a few moments to catch your breath.

“You wanna keep going?” he asked softly.

“Yes please.” you answered politely.

“Alright but, it's everywhere. All over me. So doggy style is generally best for this next part. If you wanna do it that way, I'm also just happy making you scream like this too.”

“Wade, we can stop if you need to. But I would much rather you fuck me like this. Or let me choke on you for a while then fuck me like this. On my back where I can kiss you and love you back. Ya feel me?”

He looked at you with searching eyes. You realized what you said probably sounded a bit off. Love you back probably wasn't the right thing to say, but you were operating with limited brain function at this point.

“This normally doesn't end well for me.”

“Hmmm. What part, how do you like to uh finish?” You asked slightly confused. Wade only laughed.

“That's not the problem, I almost got off just from you screaming like that. No, I just want to make sure you actually enjoy it. It's hard to enjoy things when you are looking up at someone who looks like they lost a fight with an industrial paper shredder that happened to be on fire.”

You snorted.

“Wade I never knew you before, but I’ve wanted you since I met you. Okay? There's no spooky feelings here.” Your words seemed enough to convince him. He leaned in for a soft kiss, one that made you want to misbehave. You pulled the shirt up, running your hands across the well defined muscles of his torso, then broke the kiss to pull it up over his head. You didn't give him a chance to be chatty, you resumed the heavy kiss, palming his erection. He moaned into your mouth. Feeling accomplished, you pulled the boxers off letting his heavy cock slap up against his stomach. You couldn't help but break the kiss, looking down you watched your hand slide over his impressive, throbbing length. You wanted to take him in your mouth, but before you could push him back onto the bed, he was already pinning you in place beneath him.

You felt him slide himself through your heat. Finally lining himself up with your entrance, his thumb set a steady pace on your clit as he pushed into you slowly. You were grateful he took his time opening you up. You let out a strangled sound when he bottomed out, you felt so full. He set a slow pace giving you lots of time to adjust, this only made you more desperate and needy. When he finally decided you’d had enough, you felt his hand squeeze the back of your neck as he set into a ruthless pace.

“FUCK” He was too much, his heavy body keeping you in place as your hips rose to meet every single thrust. you wanted to feel him as deeply as you possibly could. His hot mouth was biting into the flesh at the bottom of your neck. The heat inside you started to build and you were near your breaking point.

‘Wade” You breathed in a high, desperate tone.

“Cum for me baby” And just like that you felt it take over, your hips snapped up and your feet cramped up. You could feel your walls clench around him tightly, and you choked when he pushed through them even rougher than before. That thumb on your clit never gave up, keeping you trapped riding out the waves of pleasure. You felt it take him over, letting out a deep growl you felt him fill you. He held himself deep inside you, moving both his hands so his forearms were on either side of you trying to keep his weight from crushing you.

His forehead pressed against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. Eventually he moved out of you and he flopped onto his back. You got up and quickly went pee and cleaned yourself up. You grabbed another washcloth and went back to clean him up. You realised that getting up might have been a mistake. Wade was on his side with his eyes screwed shut.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked softly and grabbed the sides of his face and kissed his forehead.

“Better now.” He whispered.

“Sorry for getting up, I should have said something. Can I clean you up?” He gave you a strange look, like he was waiting for you to suddenly disappear. He took the washcloth and wiped himself down, you took it back throwing it into the bathroom. You looked down at him hoping that the voices weren't giving him a hard time. You sat next to him holding his hand, giving him some time.

**********************************************************************

“So about those cuddles?” He asked softly, and you wondered how many times people had hurt him or thrown him out.

You got under the light quilt on your bed motioning for him to do the same. He followed you, laying on his back, you tucked yourself into his side, enjoying his big arms wrapping around you. You gave his neck a light kiss.

“I missed you.” you said softly

“You have no idea how bad I missed being around you.”

“I won't leave again, if you wanted to make this either a regular thing… or a proper thing… if you're into that?” You felt a tight ball of nerves in your stomach.

“I’d really like that.” He kissed your forehead. You thought about all the things you would have to do to make this relationship compatible with your new life. But that was a later you problem, right now you were the best kind of exhausted. You both drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Thank you again for the request!!!! <3

[tennessoui]

49!!!!!! Please

finally!!!! baby, finally!!!!

49. Boss/Intern (35yo!Boss!Anakin, 19yo!Intern!Obi-Wan)

(2.4k)

Obi-Wan rubs his hands rapidly down his face. He feels distinctly like he’s about to burst into tears, which would be a very bad thing to do here and now. His supervisor had come in fifteen minutes ago to tell him everyone was going to lunch. She’d invited him along, but he’d said no.

He always says no.

Lunch for the rest of the office means he gets to have a scheduled breakdown at his little cubicle.

He just. He just doesn’t know anything.

He’s only had this internship at Temple Tech for one week and already he’s floundered and fucked up more than anyone else probably has put together in their lifetimes.

He shouldn’t have ever applied, but he had been getting so desperate for summer employment, any sort of employment and, yes, this internship was out of his career field, and yes, he did have to lie at least five times on his resume, but it was an internship and it was paid.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. But then he actually got the job by some stroke of hellish luck, and he’s been learning every day since that it was actually probably a terrible idea. The learning curve is too steep. Obi-Wan is trying, but wow is he bad at it. Tech. Data stuff.

On his open computer, the sound of an email pinging rushes through his ears and he takes his hands off of his face to look. It’s from Anakin Skywalker. The boss.

Obi-Wan thinks he can feel his fingers grow numb. His heart feels like it’s stuttering in his chest, like it’s about to stop once and for all.

Temple Tech is a start-up company, still small but growing quickly. At its head is thirty-five year old Anakin Skywalker, which shouldn’t be any sort of a problem because Obi-Wan’s nineteen now and he can keep it in his pants, even if Anakin is hot as hell, smart as well, and so terribly kind whenever they run into each other.

Which happens a lot. Because it’s a small company, operating out of one renovated warehouse turned office. The floor plan is open enough that Obi-Wan’s able to see Anakin’s space--he gets a proper office, as part of being the boss, but he’s chosen to make the walls glass so it doesn’t feel as if he’s cut off from everyone else--from across the room. And Anakin is big on making everyone who works with him feel like family. A lot of companies say they do that or support that, but Anakin actually does. For one thing, he tells them to call him Anakin, not Mr. Skywalker. For another, he’s open about his personal life, but not so much that it makes anyone feel uncomfortable.

He’s quick with a smile and so understanding, and if he ever gets mad—and from his stories of his younger days, Obi-Wan knows he must have a temper—it’s never been in public.

And Anakin has never commented on how often Obi-Wan blushes around him, or how hard it is for him to focus on his work if Anakin sits on the edge of his desk to talk with him. Or any of the other employees, Obi-Wan has had to remind himself many times. Even though Obi-Wan feels hypersensitive and like a schoolgirl whenever Anakin is in his general vicinity, Anakin is a professional. He’s Obi-Wan’s boss. Nothing could ever happen between them. Not while Obi-Wan works under Anakin.

Even if Anakin is so nice and so kind and has asked to meet him now when everyone else is out of the building. It’s not suspicious and it’s definitely not cause for concern of any kind.

He thinks about shooting back an email, confirming it, but he’s never been good at the whole office environment thing. Instead, he logs off his computer and stands up.

It’s a short walk to Anakin’s office, hardly enough time for his palms to get sweaty.

Anakin’s typing something when Obi-Wan enters the room and he looks up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says, aghast when he realizes he’s forgotten to knock. “I’m sorry, I--”

“Obi-Wan, come in, please,” Anakin gives him a slight smile and gestures for him to sit on the couch next to his desk. Obi-Wan takes a seat hesitantly. It’s as soft as it’s always looked.

Anakin types for a few more seconds on his computer before pushing away from his desk all together and taking a seat next to Obi-Wan on the couch.

“I’ve noticed you never go out to lunch with your coworkers,” Anakin says, positioning himself so he’s facing Obi-Wan completely. His body language is open, like he’s read one of those business books on how to sit so everyone knows you’re nice but you have an agenda.

It puts Obi-Wan on edge, and he fidgets around on his seat.

“You’re not in trouble, b--Obi-Wan,” his boss murmurs. “I just want to know why. Do you not like them? Have they been mean to you?”

“No!” Obi-Wan denies immediately, looking up at Anakin and biting his lip when he sees that the man’s attention is fixed so squarely on him. “No, of course not. Everyone here has been amazing.” He widens his eyes and raises both eyebrows. “Really, sir.”

Anakin looks distinctly uncomfortable. “I’ve told you to call me Anakin,” he criticizes, and Obi-Wan blushes more.

He’s really messing this up.

“Sorry, sir, I mean. Anakin. Sorry. Anakin,” he coughs. His palms are sweaty. He’s sitting on his attractive boss’s couch when everyone’s gone on lunch, and his palms are sweaty.

He doesn’t even want anything to happen.

Alright, so that’s a lie. He definitely has spent a lot of late nights thinking about something happening between them, just like this, but those are fantasies and Anakin is his boss. More than that, Anakin is a good man. He’d never take advantage of an intern in that way, no matter how frequently Obi-Wan feels as if he’s walking around with a sign around his neck that says, Take Advantage of Me, Mr. Anakin, Sir!

“Why don’t you go to lunch with them, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asks softly, gently.

Obi-Wan’s hands clench down on themselves. It’s really the moment of truth, now. He really can’t keep lying, not when Anakin sounds so concerned. He has no right to be concerned! He shouldn’t care about Obi-Wan at all; hell, he shouldn’t even know him!

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he mumbles, staring down at the stretch of fabric on his knees.

Anakin hums. Obi-Wan wonders if he learned that from his fancy How to Run a Business books as well: don’t say anything, just let the other person talk until you know everything you need to know to crush them.

Damn if the silence doesn’t work to get Obi-Wan speaking again though.

“I...I’m behind on the work,” he admits. “I don’t have time to go to lunch because I need to figure out how to do my work.”

Anakin makes a sympathetic noise deep in his throat. “If...if your workload is too heavy, Obi-Wan, we can look into cutting it. I don’t want to be known as the company that runs its interns into the ground.”

Obi-Wan’s throat tightens too much and he shrugs. He can’t cry. He really shouldn’t cry. He did this to himself. “It wouldn’t help,” he whispers.

“What?” Anakin asks, leaning forward to hear him better.

“It wouldn’t help,” Obi-Wan says again, louder this time. Anakin blinks at him, and Obi-Wan finally tells him the truth. “I don’t know how to do any of this. I...I lied on my resume. I needed a job, for my student visa. I needed the money to keep it while not in school. And...and internships are supposed to look good on your resume, so I...I thought I could figure it out, I’m smart, sir, I’m so smart. I don’t know why I can’t figure it out.”

He drops his gaze to his hands again and breathes out shakily. He’d been carrying the weight of that secret for far longer than he should have been. It should have been a relief of the utmost degree to give it away. But instead he’s waiting for the punishment. Anakin will have to fire him now. Anakin might even get mad at him for lying.

When his boss doesn’t say anything for several long seconds, Obi-Wan chances a glance up at him through his lashes. Instead of anger on his face, there’s only a confused sort of sympathy.

“I’m...not sure I understand, Obi-Wan,” he says slowly. “You lied on your resume to get this internship, but...why couldn’t you have just applied to an internship in a different field? One you actually want to study? I know you like biology, you’ve told me more about biology in the past few weeks than you’ve told me about yourself.”

“None of them wanted me,” Obi-Wan sniffles and hates himself for it. “I tried, I promise. I promise I didn’t want to lie, but I needed the money, and this internship paid so much better than working at a coffeehouse would.”

Anakin puts his hand gently on his shoulder and Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from turning into the pressure of it. “It’s alright,” Anakin murmurs. “Oh no, please don’t--please don’t cry, b--Obi.”

“It’s Obi-Wan,” Obi-Wan wails.

Anakin hushs him. “Alright, Obi-Wan, alright. Let’s see what we can do.”

“You’re going to fire me,” he says with absolute certainty. He doesn’t even much like his job at Temple Tech, but how is he supposed to find another one on such short notice?

Anakin is quiet. He doesn’t say no.

“Look, I’ll try harder, I promise,” Obi-Wan stutters out, turning to look up at Anakin with wet eyes. What a picture he must make. Nothing professional about him at all. Nothing worth keeping around either. “I promise, please, don’t--I’ll--I’ll stay after hours, I’ll work late, come early. I need this job, sir.”

Anakin’s eyebrows furrow and he looks genuinely regretful, which is little comfort. “Obi-Wan, it’s not about...your work ethic. I promise, your work ethic is stronger and better than most of the people on my team.”

Obi-Wan wipes at his eyes hastily. He knows there’s a but coming soon.

“But I can’t...if you’ve lied on your resume, you can’t put Temple Tech there later. That’s not fair for anyone else who applied and was rejected in favor of you. The spot you have...I need someone there who knows what they’re doing with computers. Who wants to be there. Obi, it makes sense that you don’t know anything about tech. You never look like you really want to be here unless you’re talking to someone else.”

Obi-Wan’s bottom lip trembles and he can feel another wave of tears coming. “I understand, sir,” he mumbles, standing up and preparing to leave the office and Anakin Skywalker behind forever. He’s never been fired before. He doesn’t know what the decorum really is in this situation.

Being tugged back and into his boss’ arms doesn’t feel like how it normally goes, though.

But he can’t resist melting into Anakin’s tight hug, rubbing his cheek on the man’s nice shirt. He wants to give him something to remember him by, even if it’s just tear stains on expensive cotton.

“Lemme help you,” Anakin suddenly says, voice very gruff. Obi-Wan freezes in his arms and tilts his head to try and see Anakin’s face. Help him?

“I don’t understand,” he admits, biting his lip.

“I like you, Obi-Wan,” Anakin confesses. “I do. I’ll be sad to see you leave. I was already going to be sad to see you leave when your internship concluded, but this is much sooner. I…”

He trails off as if trying to make up his mind. It doesn’t take him long to nod to himself.

“Be honest,” he warns him, but there’s a joking lilt to his voice. Obi-Wan, personally, thinks that’s a little too soon. “Do you know how to clean house?”

Obi-Wan pulls out of Anakin’s arms to stare at him.

“Or walk dogs,” Anakin adds.

Slowly, Obi-Wan nods. Cleaning up a house and walking dogs feels like something he can figure out how to do. Feels pretty self-explanatory for the most part. The only thing he’s confused by is why Anakin is asking this of him.

“Would you...that is, just for the rest of the summer, until your classes start again--how would you feel about cleaning my house? And walking my dogs?” Anakin seems to hold his breath.

Obi-Wan feels like he’s stepped into the Twilight Zone or something.

“You’re...firing me,” he says slowly. “But...you’re offering me a job? As your….maid?”

“‘We should call it housekeeper,” Anakin says quickly, a pained look flashing across his face. “Too...many connotations with maid.”

“Why?” he has to ask. “I mean. I lied to you, sir. I...you’re firing me.”

“Because I need someone in that position who knows what they’re doing,” Anakin explains slowly.

“Do you want me in another position, sir?” Obi-Wan asks. He blushes furiously as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

Anakin’s eyes darken and he clears his throat. He doesn’t say no, and his silence, the double entendre of his silence, makes the breath catch in Obi-Wan’s throat.

“You said you needed money to keep your visa,” Anakin says. “I’m trying to offer you an honest means of employment. I need someone to keep up my house and walk my dogs. If you can do it, I’d hire you over anyone else in a second.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan whispers, suddenly so very aware of how close they’re still standing to each other, how nice Anakin smells, how handsome he looks with just the beginning of a silver streak at his temple.

Anakin sweeps his gaze over Obi-Wan’s face and chest, and Obi-Wan has to wonder what he sees there. Whatever he does, he must like because he smirks. “Work ethic,” he murmurs.

[kojinnie]

AOT Characters’ Modern Jobs Headcanon; The Vets Edition!

The jobs that The Vets would have in modern!au, their workplace antics and their back story. There might be some inaccuracies when describing the job as obviously I don’t work at these industries to know its intricacies. Most of the jobs are office jobs. Enjoyyyy!

My Masterlist .::. Pt. II: Zeke Yeager’s Modern Jobs Headcanon   

Most recent work: Dream Me Home (Before Shiganshina) | reader x erwin smith

A/N: I really need to finish a presentation deck due tonight for an early morning meeting tomorrow but of course, this comes first hahaha 

erwin!

A/N: Basically lawyer!erwin is the way to go, innit?

He's in his 40s, so he may have a settled career

He came from a white-collar, middle-class family. So he wasn’t silverspoon-fed, but his parents had enough money to put him through good school

Got a scholarship to go to one of the nation’s finest law schools

Kept it lowkey in college’s social circle, graduated with summa cum laude, developed a strong academic relation with his professor, and got recommended for an internship at top law firm at the capital city

Starting his career as a corporate lawyer, but then built his expertise as white-collar crime attorney

In his early 30s, he represented a union suing against conglomerate corporation in a big case that had national coverage, from then on he began to know his calling

Expanding his portfolio and became well-known for defending workers, consumers and civilians against corporate fraud scheme

Currently doing a lot of pro-bono cases for deprived victims of big corporate fraud. You would see him frequently gracing your local newspaper we love us some socialist king

On the side, he often writes for law journal and fills in as guest professor at local universities for summer courses

Established his own law firm with some of his partners, specializing in white collar crime and labor & employment law

He’s damn accomplished, but never really had any time for self-indulgence. Even after he becomes a household name in the country, with tens of attorneys working under him, his employees would still see him working on New Year’s Eve

He was always attentive to his employees, though. Although he has a very strict, borderline no-life work ethics, he never forces his employees to follow his habit, in fact he despises when his employees works on holidays and can be seen blaming himself for it a bit of a hypocrite but thats ok

He still takes metro to work. He prefers a very lowkey, ordinary lifestyle because he fears if he shows any knack for indulgence, he will be susceptible to gratification from potential enemies or crooked politicians

Definitely a sight to see at the workplace, for he's tall and always oozes a sense of authority in the way he speaks and carries himself generally

His emotional intelligence is top-notch, you would never meet someone who is able to be very objective and calculating, while being kind and compassionate at the same time

His fellow attorneys put a lot for respect for him, and hundreds of applicants come to his considerably small firm every week, because a lot of aspiring attorney find him inspiring to work with

He wasn’t oblivious to his shiny reputation, but he’s trying his hardest to not let the compliments get to his head. Sometimes he doesn’t give himself enough credit for it

Was approached by one of the political party’s committee to run for local senate, but turned it down

basically he’s perfect if you like a man who’s never home for christmas

Hange!

A/N: Ok ok, I really wanna see Paleontologist!Hange because it has always been my fave dream job, but I want Hange to be out and about with people so here it is

Hange is the type to be incredibly good at one thing, that she will dedicate her whole life for that pursuit, but will be awfully oblivious to a whole lot of things (not intentional of course, they just have a very limited attention span) (they wouldn’t know who kanye west is or what tiktok is)

Like Erwin, they came from a middle-class family. While Erwin’s parents might have been teachers, accountants or other common profession, Hange came from a family of academician and researchers

Hange studied Human Geography at uni, but later found passion specifically in its relation to industrialization and urban development

Hange aims to advocate for a better living condition for workforce, and nearby inhabitants of industrialized city detroit would be a beautiful city if only they let hange designed it

Hange is a professor at university, where they also led a non-profit research think-thank that also serves as pressure group for better government policy.

The university that Hange teaches in, is also the uni where Erwin teaches in summer. They’re close-knitted colleagues as they share similar passion. Erwin relies on Hange a lot for some intellectual insights to help his cases  

Hange is relentless in their cause, you may find Hange everywhere! From street protest to a hearing in the government court. They are passionate and will do anything for the cause they believe in

Hange was once hired by the government as an independent consultant for a new housing project, but left because they grew to be frustrated by the government’s bureaucracy and their outward reluctance to follow Hange's recommendation

Hange spends a lot of time overseas, consulting and advocating development in newly industrialized countries

On Hange’s birthday, her fellow researchers surprised them with a ‘pampering day’ where they took them to an optometrist because Hange had been complaining about their eyesight for a YEAR that gave them a lot of migraines, but was always either too busy or too lazy to go

Hange never really considers themselves as working, because they enjoy their job very much. Hange likes to spend months observing a community, talking to people for hours, and trying their best in understanding their problem

Out of so many great qualities that Hange has as a researcher that meets different set of people everyday, prejudice or preconceived judgment is completely absent in Hange’s demeanor and perspective

Hange doesn’t get a lot of free-time, even if they do, they’d wander around the city to do a little observation. But when the weather’s bad and they’re stuck at home with their pet lizard, they would logged into Quora to answer random internet questions

They’re an avid writer for National Geographic, and one time Hange won a pitch to make a documentary about an industrial city project they were working on

After the docu-series got broadcasted, Hange gained a small but passionate and loyal fans on the internet. You could even find a subreddit dedicated for Hange’s works

for real I want to be Hange. I want to have that kind of passion in life

levi!

A/N: I spent a lot of times thinking about Levi’s job in modern!au. Because here’s the thing, either we adopt his unfortunate childhood into its modern!au equivalent, or let’s just recreate his whole upbringing. But I think his personality stems from a specific things he experienced during childhood, so let’s not dismiss that.

Levi came from a struggling working class family. I reckon his parents might have had worked multiple jobs to sustain their living expense. Unfortunately they both passed away when Levi was very little, and left little to no inheritance

Levi’s parents were not close to their extended family, so when they died, Levi was admitted to the system and had to brace several foster families who didn’t really pay attention to him

Little Levi had come to realize that life’s all about survival and so he had been able to fend on for himself since very young age, he never asked for things

His uncle, Kenny, finally won custody over Levi when he was in elementary. Kenny made money from small-scale racketeering here and there. Levi never asked what he did for living, as long as he got food to eat and tuition paid off

Kenny was emotionally absent, but he loved spending time with the oddly quiet little child, teaching him a lot of crafts, from carpentering to how to flay pig’s skin

Levi didn’t really care about getting into college, and thought that he’d probably end up working for his uncle, so he put his bare minimum throughout school, although he was really good with numbers, especially in math, accounting and finance

One time in high school, Levi’s teacher asked him to sign up for the olympiad team, Levi turned it down because he thought that was a rich kid thing

He didn’t even apply for college, and worked odd jobs after high school. Probably working as cashiers or assistant to retail shop’s owner for couple of years, enough for him to afford a cheap studio apartment on his own

One of his bosses came to acknowledge Levi’s talent, and trusted him to handle the company’s accounting

By sheer luck, the company hit it big, and Levi found himself running the day-to-day accounting of mid-sized business with over 300 employees

He made good money already without a college degree, but with a new-found confidence Levi applied for uni, where he chose to study accounting (of course)

Although he was confident with his skills, he understood he needed to widen his horizon and network -- thus uni

Levi was one of the oldest members of his cohort in uni, but graduated with highest distinction

After graduating, with his skills and experience, it wasn’t hard for Levi to score a job at top accounting firm

There, he discovered an interest for forensic accounting, where through audits, analysis and investigation, he basically finds out if a company is doing fraud and embezzlement or not

This is where he came to know and get acquainted with Erwin and Hange (yippie they’re together again)

The firm he works for was assigned to investigate the finances of a troublesome company that had been sued by its workers for a jeopardizing working condition. Erwin was on the case, and Levi helped him with evidences for legal proceeding.

By chance, Erwin introduced Levi to Hange. At first, Levi would find Hange annoying and overtly energized, but after learning the things they have done, Levi grew to appreciate Hange’s passion (and secretly wants to have more of his positive outlook)

Levi is fucking good his job. In short amount of time, he could get a really ideal position in the office. He was almost foolproof, finding even the tiniest bit of discrepancy in his audit. He’d get assigned to the big league case/project.

Although really good at his job, he’s not a social person, especially in his office. He couldn’t understand the lavish lifestyle that finance and banking people often lead. He will only show up to office party if it is really necessary for him to show up (usually to receive some kind of informal awards for, again, being so fucking good) 

He leads a no-bullshit attitude at the office, largely because of his background. He is a self-made man, and is not easy to impress by some young executives from posh school that talk bigger than they can chew

His cold, seemingly dismissive attitude gained him a reputation of being scary, when actually he is very considerate

One of the things he enjoys doing is to actually teach, he really likes when a new kid at the office come to him with none of that pretentious, big talk, and really asks for his guidance. He would love to teach you a thing or two

He would frequently check on his mentee, just to keep up with their development

And he doesn’t take credit too. When his mentee makes a milestone, he believes it’s 100% your work

If you’re his mentee, he probably doesn’t give a crap about your personal life, so don’t expect him to make small talk about that (and don’t ask him about his personal life either). But he really cares about your skill and career development

Same with Erwin, he leads a very ordinary lifestyle. He doesn’t go out often and would rather reading detective novel with his cat on the couch

He likes to spend Sunday at Uncle Kenny’s house, because he finds himself worried about the old man very often. They became close as Levi grew

Overall, Levi is a really kind and caring person if you know how not to push his button

[inskz]

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

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“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop  on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse. 

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence. 

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them). 

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you. 

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now. 

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago. 

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh). 

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before  since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him. 

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen. 

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff. 

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.  

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it. 

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups. 

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything. 

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas. 

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly. 

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil. 

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear. 

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch. 

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.  

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.  

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little… 

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter. 

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered. 

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask. 

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain. 

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.  

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in. 

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt. 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately. 

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget). 

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground. 

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you. 

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch. 

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy. 

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials. 

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.  

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter. 

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview. 

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes. 

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can. 

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today. 

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.  

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso. 

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling. 

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue). 

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you? 

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time. 

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall. 

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next. 

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right? 

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.  

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should. 

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.  

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball. 

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves. 

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious. 

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.  

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in. 

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start. 

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours. 

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil. 

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.  

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - - 

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him. 

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross. 

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal. 

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning. 

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes. 

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it. 

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe. 

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars. 

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate. 

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm?