#i ordered some fake ones to see what might suit me but they were fucking. giant

[identitty-dickruption]

stability thesis

okay this is going to be a long one, so strap in and get comfortable! I present to tumblr: the stability thesis

background: in the UK, there was a study done about swearing. they were trying to work out which social class swore the most. the answer? working class and upper class people swore the exact same amount. it was only the middle class who considered swearing to be rude. why? because it’s only the middle class who has BOTH something to gain and something to lose within the class system

I am proposing that the exact same thing applies to queer theory

so let’s talk about gender non-conformity! have you ever seen a bunch of footy bros wearing a tutu for a laugh? have you seen the most macho man “put on” femininity as a joke? now think of the most middle of the line masculine person you can imagine. is he able to get away with the fake/jokey femininity?

how about a woman who wears a suit in order to be taken seriously at the office? that woman is only actually benefitting from the suit if she’s white, thin, and otherwise generally the perfect picture of femininity. masculinity only helps women if their social class has been granted femininity to begin with (e.g. a woman of colour is often not seen as a complete woman in the first place)

gender conformity is complex, so I won’t pretend that there is one answer to why some people can be nonconforming in specific contexts and some can’t. but I think that a huge part of it depends on how stable that person is within the gender hierarchy. the stability thesis proposes that the only people who have to conform 24/7, 365 are the people who both have the most to gain and the most to lose

right, so what about those who have nothing to gain? the “working class” of the gender world?

when I was a young teen, I was butch as all hell. I’m a disabled genderqueer intersex lesbian. femininity was never an option for me. when I did wear the occasional dress, well… I was once told that I looked like a drag queen’s day off. I gained nothing from pretending to be feminine, because nobody was ever going to see me as the perfect woman. and, since I had nothing to gain from putting on a dress and heels, I thought I might as well do and wear and say whatever the fuck I wanted

this is not to say that the super gender-nonconforming people aren’t punished. I was still punished for my nonconformity. but since conformity was never an option, I was going to be punished no matter what I did

so, the stability thesis:

those with a lot of pre-existing social credit can get away with (and even benefit from) nonconformity

those with no social credit (or very little) have nothing to gain from conformity, so often won’t bother

the only people conforming are those who see themselves as having something to gain AND something to lose, should they choose not to conform

if you read this far, thank you very much! feel free to let me know what you think!

[jpitha]

The Dreams of Hyacinth 12

First / Previous / Next

The buzzing of the call woke up Nick. He came to consciousness slowly, confused, tangled up in Eastern and Selkirk. It took a minute to realize what it was. His implants were buzzing with a ping from an outside source.

Nick sat up and remembering the things that Queenie taught him, checked the source and opened the connection. It was static, but he expected that; it was an encrypted link. It must be Sunny calling. He applied her keys and the message resolved.

"Hey meatbag. Got some news for you. I've got some information on your missing AI."

"Sunny?"

"Who else, fuckface? Ancestors, I can't stand BIs. How do you even sleep? The whole process squicks me out and makes me uncomfortable. You just go unconscious for hours at a time and are fine with it." Nick could see Sunny's avatar on the call shudder. "Anyway, I don't have much. That person did not want to be found, if they even exist at all." Sunny stops and her avatar looks thoughtful. "Nick are you sure this person exists?"

Nick wasn't actually sure. He said as much to Sunny. "We were ordered to find her from Jameson. He said she was his daughter, so we assumed she was real. Why would he lie?"

Sunny peered at Nick and raised an eyebrow. "Ancestors be damned you're thick, Nick. He's got all kinds of reasons to lie." Sunny looked down at something. It was only an avatar for their voice only call, but it did a decent job emulating her expressions. "Nick. I'll give you the info I found, and I did run right up against the contracted fifty hours, but." Sunny sighed. "I can't believe I'm being nice to a BI, what's come over me." She started again. "Nick, you might want to leave this one. Delta off Hyacinth, go start somewhere else. Jameson is a big hat here on Hyacinth, but only on Hyacinth. Even if you went in-system to Luna or hell, even Venus you'd probably be free of him."

"Wait, what? Why?"

Sunny gave Nick a look. "Because this whole thing stinks and I think that if you look deep within yourself, you'll smell it too." Sunny starts ticking points off on her fingers. "All you were given was a name and a statement that she's Jameson's daughter. Then you were stuffed full of cybernetics - you've even got a full starship piloting suite, something that as far as I know only went to Colony Captains. Then you were turned loose on Hyacinth and were picked up by Houndstooth almost immediately and told the same basic thing. 'Go get Yon.' Still no description." Sunny shook her head. "Nicholas North you are being played."

"To what end?"

"Fuck if I know, Nick. You didn't pay me to find that out." She raises a finger. "And before you ask, you don't have enough. I'm out. She gestured at him and a file appeared in his vision. "Here's what I found. Use it or not, I don't care. I'm just telling you to leave this one be because I'm so fucking caring about the lives of BIs." In a flash, she switched to the old, bubbly Sunny. "Don't call me again Nick! I'm deleting these encryption keys. If I see you in The Basement, I never met you, and I expect you to act the same way." Her fake Smile was sickly and disconcerting. "Bye Nick! Fuck off!" Sunny closed the connection.

Nick layed in bed, trapped by Eastern and Selkrik for a while longer. He used the opportunity to think about their predicament. Nick opens the file and uses Sunny's keys to decrypt it. As the decryption finishes, the keys evaporate, their job complete.

It's... not much to go on.

The report is peppered with little comments by Sunny, pointing out details and parts that - to her - don't add up. There might be an AI who goes by Yon when they're in a body and they probably claimed Hyacinth as a residence within the last fifty years. Nick stops a moment when he reads this. He knows that AIs can be old, and so long as they keep up on maintenance don't really die unless they're killed, but the fact that Yon may have lived on Hyacinth within the last fifty years is not a lot go go on. Reading further he sees that Sunny agrees with him that the timeline is way too wide to be effective. Sunny also points out that the moment she tried to dig deeper than superficial details she would get attacked by anti-hacking algorithms. Her annotation mentioned that they were "Real dark stuff too, not the normal watchdogs."

At the bottom of the report was an image. Sunny actually went through the effort of mimicking a handwritten note.

"Nick. My goodness you're fucked. If I were to guess, I'd say Yon did exist, but has nothing to do with anything in the last half century. You are being sent on a wild chase. I don't know why, and I don't care why. If you don't value your continued existence, bring it up with your employer. If you do value your continued existence, sell all your shit and book passage away. Doesn't matter where, just delta."

The note was then signed "Sunny" with crudely drawn hearts and daggers stabbing a stick figure of a person - probably a BI.

Nick leaned back in bed and sighed. He slowly and carefully extricated himself from the tangle of people in the bed and padded towards the kitchen. He got some coffee and tea going and once it was ready padded to the living room. Sitting on the couch, he carefully took a sip of the hot coffee and put his head back, leaning against the top of the couch and stared at the ceiling a long time.

After a while, Eastern and Selkirk came out, looking concerned. Selkirk came over and sat next to Nick while Eastern went and got coffee and tea for them. "Nick, what's wrong?"

"I got a message from Sunny."

"Not good news, I take it."

As they were talking, Eastern came in and handed a mug of tea to Selkirk.

Nick looked at both of them. Together, he thought. Together they'd get through this. "Sunny says that basically there might have been an AI that went by Yon who might have claimed residence on Hyacinth, but she wasn't able to pin down her living here anytime in the last fifty years. Basically, if she was real, she hasn't been around here in half a century." Nick sighed. "Sunny also said to never call her again."

Eastern and Selkirk were stunned into silence. All three of them stared up at the ceiling. "So, what does this mean?" Eastern was so quiet she was almost whispering.

"Means we've just gotten confirmation we're being played." Selkirk glowered into her mug of tea, her ears and tail fluffed out angrily."

"Yes, but by who? Jameson? Doesn't make sense. He seemed adamant that he had a daughter. He even gave Nick and me fucking cybernetics. Houndstooth? Siobhan wouldn't go through all that effort for nothing." Eastern rubbed her temples. "Argh, it doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense."

Nick sat up suddenly. "What if that's it?"

Eastern stopped rubbing her temples and looked at Nick through the corner of her eye. "What's it?"

"What if that's it. What if Jameson and Houndstooth think Yon exists, but she doesn't. Or did, but not anymore. What if it's not us specifically being played but Hyacinth."

Eastern and Selkirk sit up and stare at Nick. "Why though?" Selkirk flicks her ears.

"If I knew that, we wouldn't be as fucked as we are." Nick stood. "Come on though, let's go pay a visit to Jameson. I've got an idea."

"A good one?" Eastern stands up with Nick.

"Oh Fuck no. This is incredibly stupid." Nick laughs. "But I don't have anything else."

The three of them left Eastern's apartment and walked out to the square. Nick looked at Eastern. "I don't have a Hopper account, and I don't know Jameson's address. Can you call us one?"

Eastern fumbles for her pad. "Sure Nick. We're getting pretty low on funds though, so unless we get a payout from Jameson we're taking the metro down to the bottom and then back up here when we're done."

"I thought we had an expense account." Selkirk puts her hands on her hips.

"We did. We burned through it."

"Hmmph. Some expense account."

The Hopper descended while they groused about money. Everyone climbed aboard and dashed across arms to the industrial arm where Jameson lives.

As they approached his building, there were a few of Jameson's goons sitting outside in folding chairs playing cards and watching videos on their pad. They looked up as the three of them walked up. The one by the door nodded and opened the door. "Jameson is in the back Eastern, check in with Kelly at the front desk first though, okay?"

Eastern, Nick and Selkirk were fully taken aback. This was not how they expected to be treated. "R-right you are. Thanks" Eastern answered and the three of them headed in.

In the comfortable waiting room, Kelly was where they saw her before, once again watching videos on her pad. She looked up as they entered. "Hey Eastern, Nick, Selkirk. I'll let Jameson know you're here."

The three of them sat on the chairs in stunned silence.

After three or four minutes the door opened and Jameson himself wheeled out to the waiting room. "Eastern! and Nick and Selkirk! How are you? Healing up all right? It's good to see you? You need a drink? Come on, come with me to my office and we can chat."

Eastern, Nick and Selkirk stiffly stood up and followed him into his office. This time there were no guards behind them to slam the door, no chairs with straps, no beds. Just Jameson's desk and a few chairs. They sat down stiffly and watched Jameson wheel himself behind his desk and connect.

"Ah. That's better. Now, what can Jameson do for you three?"

Nick couldn't stand it any longer. "Jameson, we think Yon doesn't exist, or if she did it was a half century ago. Are you sure she's your daughter?"

Jameson looked at them with an odd expression. "Who's Yon?"

Eastern's voice was a whisper. "What?"

Jameson shrugged. "Who's Yon? Never heard the name before. Are they an AI? Should I know them?"

Nick's mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to make words come forth. He stopped and took a long breath and held it a few seconds, letting is out slowly through his nose. "Jameson, a few days ago, you told us to find your daughter, an AI named Yon. You installed the cybernetic suite into me and Eastern to help find her. You asked us to find out where she was and bring her back."

Jameson frowned. He glanced down on a display built into his desk and his brow furrowed further. He pressed a button on his desk, and there was a bassy alarm. Nick could hear the thundering of feet and what sounded like shutters coming down. After no time at all, there was a crackle of a speaker on Jameson's desk. "We're locked down boss. What's up?"

Jameson pressed a button on the speaker. "Get the logs. Last two weeks. Institute a change freeze. Full work stoppage until we get the logs and they're gone through with a fine toothed comb." Jameson looked up at Eastern, Nick and Selkirk. "For what's it's worth, I believe you. This room has quite an advanced suite of electronics and sensors setup to detect if BIs are lying. You three are not lying in the least, but what you're saying does not match up with my memories. I remember giving you and Nick the cybernetics because you two had volunteered to be pilots on a starship."

"Starship? Jameson, I've been on one starship in my life. I took a Starjumper from Parvati to here, and that was it."

Eastern nods. "I've been on more than Nick, but I've never been on a Starjumper, never left Sol."

Selkirk's tail swishes. "I haven't been on a starship since I came here a quarter century ago"

Nick looks at Jameson "Which is all to say, I don't think any of us would volunteer to pilot a starship."

Jameson nods. "Exactly. Either you're lying - which if you are, fuck you're good enough that you can have my job - or my memories were edited. It's not impossible, but it's difficult and even more difficult to do without prior knowledge. But why?"

Nick's shoulders slumped. "That's what we were hoping to find out. We have no idea."

Selkirk's ears perk up. "Wait. Houndstooth took us almost right after we left your place. Someone Eastern knows... Siobhan maybe? She said that they had hired an AI to work for them and they were supposed to be in the coffin box that we stole. For a while we thought they meant Yon, but clearly if she doesn't exist, then either they're talking about a different AI or... they..." She trails off, worried.

Jameson looks up at the ceiling, thinking. "Siobhan, Siobhan... works for Houndstooth? Eastern, she's got red hair, freckles and those weird green eyes?"

Eastern nods. "That's her."

Jameson looks worried. "Eastern, she died six months ago."

Everyone swings their head around to look at Jameson.

"She.. died?" Nick felt the ground slipping beneath his feet. He started feeling dizzy.

"Yes. Died in a Hopper crash actually."

Eastern looks worried. "But wasn't she picked up after a job went bad?"

"The job you were with her on, and you ran away?" Jameson smiled. "Don't feel bad about that, by the way. You were right to run. But yes, she got 3 months probation because they couldn't pin anything really bad on her. Aggressive loitering or something stupid like that. After I kept mild tabs on her in case she wanted to come back for more work. I got a report that she was on a Hopper that crashed. She was the only passenger, dead."

Nick shuffles in his chair awkwardly. "So who spoke to us after we got picked up?"

"Now that Nick my boy, is a good question."

First / Previous / Next

[ilunaerin]

[Sometime during yujis fake death]

Megumi: What are you doing.

Gojo: (putting on his best "nothing" face) huh? Just back from getting some groceries. Nothing special. Why? You wanted a souvenir?

Megumi: Just groceries, huh? Hmm. You have that.. look on you.

Gojo: *the look intensifies*

Nobara: *peeking into gojo's shopping bag* hey this is just popcorn and candy. Do you live on that?

Megumi: He kind of does.

Gojo: Ah you have caught me, yes that's why I was acting so sneaky, I didn't want to share my candy. You could fight me for it if you like?

Megumi: Hard pass.

Nobara: Hmm... I might have a go.

Megumi: Suicide, but alright.

Nobara: Let me see what you have at least so l know what I'm dying for.

Gojo: *Quickly flashes a few pieces of candy and a box of popcorn before stowing them away again*

Megumi: oi, hey, you left one out. I saw that. What's the mystery box, asshole? I knew you were up to something. "reaches into the bag himself and pulls out....*

Megumi: *eyebrow twitches* are you.. fucking with us?

Nobara: *squints* its.. hair dye. Pink. Pink hair dye.

Gojo: ah...

Megumi: this isn't funny, prick. *Throws box with all his might*

Gojo: "whizzes over and catches it*

Gojo: ah, sorry my dear students. You see, it's for me! I am going to dye my hair pink in honor of our dear late friend itadori yuji. 😔🙏

Nobara: ...you are NOT

Gojo: I'm not? *Looks perplexedly at box* then what's this for?

Megumi: *simply speechless*

[LATER]

Gojo: I got caught pink handed.

Yuji: huh?

Gojo: your classmates ambushed me on my way back from the store, they saw your hair dye in my bag.

Yuji: .... Oh no. what did you-

Gojo: I told them it was for me.

Yuji: ....... 😃

Gojo: so now I guess I... have to?

Gojo: In order to keep the secret that you're alive.

Yuji: 😃

Gojo: if I don't, they'll grow suspicious.

Yuji: 😃 PINK HAIR BUDDIES???

Gojo:....(sigh)... Yes, itadori, pink hair buddies.

[LATER LATER]

Nobara: *on the floor, inconsolable* (unclear whether she's laughing or has transcended laughter to some other state of being*

Megumi: he did it. the bastard really did it.

Gojo: oiiii megumi!! *Strikes pose* does it suit me?

Megumi: it does NOT. Change it back before I MAKE you

Maki: now now megumi... Everyone deals with grief in their own way.

Panda: this isnt grief, this is something hithero undefined by man.

Inumaki: salmon.

BONUS:

gojo: hey I wonder if it will still stay on my hair when I activate infinity or if it'll get pushed away

Megumi: DON-

Gojo: *does*

Panda: *splashed half pink*

[sally-mun]

OKAY GUYS I NEED TO RAMBLE ABOUT LOKI FOR A MINUTE BEFORE I CUT MY FUCKING HEAD OFF

Okay I've been losing my mind about this since last week, and with the new episode coming out tonight and SOMEONE still not up to date on episodes so I can have a proper nerd session (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE YOU FUCKER), I'm just going to explode here if y'all don't mind. I probably shouldn't have to say this, but obviously, SPOILERS AHEAD WATCH THE DAMN SERIES FIRST JUST DO IT

So I've had a lot to go off the deep end about now that this show is FINALLY fucking back, but the last episode ended on an extremely gnarly cliffhanger. To be specific, now that Miss Minutes is jilted and has decided to flip on He Who Remains, she cryptically mentions to Renslayer that she knows a pretty big secret about her, but if she tells her, it's going to make her really mad. Honestly, the main reason I find this so intriguing isn't just the inherent mystery of wanting to know what Miss Minutes is going to say; it's moreso just me wondering, what could POSSIBLY upset Renslayer any more than she already has been since the Time Keepers were outed as fakes? The stakes are already pretty fucking high, and from her POV she's got to forge ahead alone because no one else gets it and thus they won't help her. It'd have to be something MAJOR on a scale we haven't even approached yet to derail her from all that. So I brainstormed it in the shower a few days ago, because I get bored while having to wash my hair 82 times, and I had a VERY INTERESTING THOUGHT:

What if Renslayer is ALSO a Loki?

BECAUSE I MEAN... YEAH THAT'D MAKE HER PRETTY FUCKING MAD. RENSLAYER HATES LOKIS. SHE HATES THAT MOBIUS KEEPS CHOOSING TO TRUST AND WORK WITH OUR LOKI INSTEAD OF HER. SHE HATES THAT SYLVIE'S BEEN RUNNING AMOK AND CAUSING HER PROBLEMS FOR ALL THESE YEARS. RENSLAYER ABSOLUTELY CAN'T STAND LOKIS.

And unfortunately I IMMEDIATELY ruined this idea for myself because we know that Renslayer isn't a Loki. At the very end of season 1, B-15 lured some of the other hunters to Renslayer's place on the timeline to prove to them that they're all variants. We got to see for ourselves that Renslayer's just a normal person like the rest of us. She works in a school, and if I'm not mistaken she's the principal. Unless she lived in a VERY different version of Asgard, she's not a Loki.

BUT THAT'S WHY I FEEL LIKE I'M ABOUT TO COME APART AT THE SEAMS. At this point I don't care WHAT the new ep tonight is about to reveal, because I feel like finding out that Renslayer is also a Loki is SO MUCH BETTER than anything else they could possibly say at this point. Honestly, it would explain just about EVERYTHING we've seen so far -- about both Renslayer herself, and about the TVA in general. In her case, revealing that she's actually a Loki would go hand-in-hand with her attitude and habits. She enjoys her position of power and authority, even keeping trophies of her victories, and makes no secret about looking down on those she feels are beneath her. She unshakably believes that she NEEDS to be in charge in order for things to run properly, and that things fall apart without her. You might even say that Renslayer ruling the TVA makes life easier on everyone else... aka, EXACTLY the reason Loki's always given for wanting to rule Earth.

As for the TVA itself, I would've loved the idea that Lokis are just especially well-suited to work there, and that the majority of the staff there are Loki variants. That would explain why our Loki was so easy to recruit, and why he's been doing such a good job despite knowing the least of the main cast! What if Loki was right all along, and he IS "burdened with glorious purpose" -- and this is it? What if Loki has always been uniquely qualified to take on this responsibility? It's definitely a burden, it's definitely a purpose, and depending on his arrogance level he could definitely find glory in it. Lokis being the best candidates to handle this kind of burden could very well be WHY our Loki and Sylvie were chosen for the mantle by He Who Remains. As he pointed out during their discussion in S1E6, he paved the road for them. He made sure they'd make it to his citadel, because he wanted them.

Besides, it would make SO much sense for the majority of TVA employees to be Lokis because Mobius specifically points out that they pick up WAY more Loki variants than almost anyone else. That means they'd have a VERY, VERY LARGE POOL of potential recruits at any given time! It's also been proven that the staff's memories have been manipulated at least twice, so there's no reason for anyone to notice that they've accumulated so many Lokis over the years. There also wouldn't be much opportunity for them to accidentally find out, either, because we know that Loki's magic DOES NOT WORK AT THE TVA. The vast majority of TVA workers never leave there, so they'd have no chance of accidentally awakening any of their magic -- and those that do leave, such as the hunters, spend very little time actually down on the timeline. They show up, arrest the variant, set a reset charge, and get out. Even though they'd have the opportunity to accidentally perform some magic, it's very unlikely that it would've ever come up.

What makes me like the idea even more is that EVERY variant of Loki we've ever seen so far (minus Gator Loki, I suppose) has had black hair. That's one thing that has NEVER changed despite the circumstances; we haven't seen a ginger Loki, for example. All the Lokis we saw during the briefing in S1E2, and all the variants we saw in S1E5, have had black hair to the extent that we could actually see it. (Yes, this includes Sylvie, because we know her hair is dyed. In her flashback to when she was first arrested, she had long black hair.) You know who else has black hair? Almost ALL of the main characters that we know at the TVA! Renslayer, B-15, Casey, and OB all have black hair. Mobius' hair is white, but might it have been black back in the day? Who knows! It could have been! We don't know that it wasn't! And guess who else also has black hair? He Who Remains. Was he a Loki too? No idea! Maybe it's just a coincidence. Maybe it wasn't!

I don't know, I guess I'm just so stuck on this idea because it would just be SO frickin on-point with the very premise of the series. The idea of "what makes a Loki a Loki?" has already been explored a bit in S1E3, and this would be a great way to dial that discussion up to 11. If everyone turns out to be a Loki variant, well, now we have TONS of data on what it means to be a Loki! Plus, imagine the implications that has just for the TITLE of the show! We all thought it was called "Loki" because we're following the story of the Loki we've always known, but it'd have been an amazing reveal to show that it's moreso about Loki as a concept. The twist that the series name itself isn't necessarily about the protagonist would've been a pretty serious mindfuck to me!

I also like this idea because I've heard the complaint about the show that it, allegedly, really has very little to do with Loki in particular and is moreso about the TVA, with the argument that it could've been ANY Marvel character used as the protagonist. The complaint is that it only stars Loki because he has such a strong fan following and it's all just, effectively, fan service. Let me just say right now that I was never much of a fan of Loki as a character until this series, so I'm not campaigning for it out of personal preference. I've always genuinely believed that this show could only have worked with Loki as the protagonist, for reasons I'm not going to rant about in this post. My greater point is, revealing that the TVA is crawling with Lokis BECAUSE Lokis are the best ones for the job would just go to show that this series WAS always about him, and could ONLY have been about him. It would've been a great rebuttal to what Renslayer said to him in court in the first episode, when she told him "It's not your story, Mr. Laufeyson. It never was." Plot twist, it IS his story, and it ALWAYS was!

And it's KILLING ME that the series is undoubtedly NOT going in this direction and now I feel like I'm grieving the episodes we'll never have alskdjFLKSJE;KesKSJFDLSLEi I'm just imagining Renslayer finding out she's a Loki, being VERY UPSET ABOUT IT but eventually getting past it, and then rediscovering her skills with magic. How fucking cool would it have been to see Renslayer going full Norse God against our team?? What if she was especially proficient, to the extent that our Loki realizes he's outmatched? What if the other TVA characters had to rediscover their own lost magic skills, and the only way to succeed was to be their true selves -- to be Lokis -- so they could work together with their different magic specialties? What if that was how they got Sylvie to work with them again, because realizing that they're the same might instill a little bit of trust -- especially since learning to trust and see herself in others would be a step in fulfilling her character arc?

Siiiiggggghhhhh. One day in fanfiction, maybe.

[monsterthalia]

It’s Friday Thalia!!!! How about “A quiet sigh as they turn away” from the sensory prompts, for whoever you think fits best?

I swear this came from this prompt, it just... got a little lost. Iron Bull, Krem and Rowan Lavellan are in the Herald's Rest post-Demands of the Qun. Bull decides to give the two some "privacy".

For @dadrunkwriting Rating: T for language Pairing: Krem/F!Lavellan Words: 1203 One of Bull’s favourite tricks was to pretend to pass out. No-one thought twice about it, even though it should have been obvious to a nug that he was far too large for that quantity of alcohol to knock him out. Everyone saw what they wanted to see, and what they wanted to see was the big stupid Qunari being big and stupid. 

Big being the key word there - no-one would try to drag him outside either. So he’d just get to lie there and listen to conversations continue around him.

He didn’t use it often. Only in emergencies. But this was an emergency.

“Is Bull okay?” he heard Rowan say from the table.

“Oh, he’s fine,” Krem replied, and Bull felt a sharp kick in his ribs, like Krem didn’t know he was doing this for his own good. He’d tried every other way of getting Krem some time alone to talk to the Inquisitor, and if he’d found a way that meant he didn’t have to lie on the filthy floor of the Herald’s Rest, he would have taken it. “Just had one too many. Starting to feel it more in his old age.”

The little shit. Catch Bull doing him any more favours.

“It’s been a busy month, I guess,” Rowan was saying, and fuck, but he wanted to be watching her face whilst they talked so he could read her facial cues, instead of just listening so hard from the floor his ears might damn well pop out. “And it’s our first time to stop and breathe since, well -”

She trailed off. “The Storm Coast,” Krem finished for her.

They both sat in gloomy silence, probably reflecting on depressing things like the failed alliance with the Qunari, or how close the day had come to disaster, or anything else besides the fact that they were both young and alive and attractive and were somehow not already screwing on every available surface in the Inquisitor’s suite. 

… Sure, perhaps if Bull wasn’t fake-unconsciously matchmaking from the Herald’s Rest floor, maybe he too would be struggling, but he was, and the least they could do in return was make it work.

“Why did you choose us?” Krem said suddenly.

Bull felt Rowan go tense. He went tense. What? This wasn’t in the script?

“What?” said Rowan.

“Varric told me. You threw away an alliance with the Qunari.” Krem sounded… confused? Damn, he normally had a better read on his lieutenant, but maybe even Krem wasn’t sure what he was feeling. “Why sacrifice a giant navy and all those Ben-Hassrath reports for a bunch of mercs? Why make an enemy like that just for - for, what, me, Skinner, Dalish-”

Ah, Bull was satisfied, he knew where this went. Earnest assurances that he meant more to her than any navy, followed by blushing, stammered confessions, kiss, kiss, and Krem turning up at his door in the morning asking how he-

“Because it felt like a trap,” Rowan said simply.

What?

“A trap,” Krem echoed.

“It felt weird to me. Gatt was too insistent that there was no other way, that it had be you or the dreadnought. He didn’t even try to think of anything else, or suggest we wait and see what happened, or anything. He was far too ready to ask Bull to make that decision between the you or the Qun.” Rowan fell silent, and Bull was itching to jump to his feet and ask her what the fuck. “It felt like a trap. For me. For Bull. And to get rid of you.” 

As she went on, she slipped into a voice Bull was getting to know well - the voice she used when laying out a strategy, when telling her companions how they were going to win. 

“They must have known he was never going to be fully theirs whilst you were around. So - they make an offer the Inquisitor can’t refuse. Inquisitor orders Bull to let his Chargers die rather than lose the alliance. Bull loses the only people he cares about outside the Qun, at the hands of the only other person he might have loyalty towards - deal with two problems neatly, and get Hissrad back under their control.”

Silence. Krem must be as stunned as he was. “You’ve-” Krem’s voice broke a little, and he coughed to clear it, continued. “You really thought of all that in the moment?”

“Er, not so clearly.” Suddenly Rowan didn’t sound like the cool, competent strategist any more, but the slightly awkward young woman she only remembered to be around Krem. “In the moment, it was more that I had, er, a gut feeling. That it was bad. I… figured out the rest later.”

Krem whistled, impressed. “That’s - well - that’s one loud gut.”

If Bull was allowed to facepalm, being unconscious, he would have done. Hundreds of years of lovers and love poetry, and Krem goes with ‘that’s one loud gut’.

But Rowan laughed. Laughed. “I guess so,” she replied.

“Well,” Krem went on, and Bull heard a drink being poured, “Thanks anyway. And here’s to loud guts, I guess?”

“To loud guts,” Rowan repeated, even as Bull fervently wished Stop talking about loud guts - “Besides,” she said suddenly, “You know Bull wouldn’t have let you die?”

A pause, filled with unspoken things. “Dorian said he looked to you for orders,” Krem replied in a level voice, and Bull felt something - something, in his chest, at the doubt underneath it.

“Of course he did, I was his commanding officer,” Rowan was saying. “He’s been raised as a Ben-Hassrath, I can only imagine it’s a reflex like - like covering your head when something’s flying at it. Something goes wrong on the battlefield, look to your commanding officer. But I didn’t give him the order to save you, Krem.” Her voice had turned gentle and - dare he say? - intimate? - was it too much to imagine she’d reached out to hold Krem’s hand? - “I just gave him the freedom to do what he already wanted to do.”

Silence fell, and Iron Bull was just about ready to jump up and flip the table. Were they holding hands?? Were they gazing into each others’ eyes?? Was he overly invested in this as a distraction from his own emotional distress, of course he was, he could deal with that tomorrow?? 

He could just hear Krem saying, “Thank you, Inq- Rowan,” in his own soft, gentle voice, like they were all alone rather than in a busy pub, and if they did not start kissing in the next five seconds-

“Ah! Inquisitor!” Dorian’s voice rang out loudly, and a chair scraped out from under the table, “Mind if I join you? Has Bull had one too many?”

Rowan and Krem snapped back to normality, and were chatting and joking with Dorian in no time, like nothing had happened. And Bull could only lie there, refusing to ruin his ‘pass out’ trick just for the sheer satisfaction of dragging Dorian out of his seat and punching that moustache off his face.

He fully expected the Ben-Hassrath assassins to arrive within the next few days, daggers poisoned with saar-qamek, but the suffering would be nothing compared to this.

[masteredinstinct]

each step back tugs at some part of him . a rope is being stretched between them and , if they keep this up , it might just snap . but louis is unwilling to follow lestat — unwilling to let the strings of his heart be tugged by that man in order to throw him into another spiral in which the world starts and ends with lestat while logic and morality get thrown out the fucking window . louis exhales through his nose while moistening his lower lip while listening to lestat trying to make sense of his invitation ( he thought he was being kind , thought this was what grown-ups did to show there were no hard feelings between them ) . he shrugs helplessly at his ex-lover , widening emerald eyes at him .  “ i dunno , maybe ! ” a sudden touch of louisiana drawl touches his voice . louis quickly regains his bearings and speaks again , softly . “ i don’t know . ” he cannot imagine what kind of signals he must be sending lestat ; HE WANTS TO SEE HIM , BUT DOESN’T WANT HIM CLOSE . he wants him in his home but not in a hotel suite .

he wants to touch him but doesn’t want to be touched back .

louis tilts his head while watching him put a cigarette to his pink lips . notices the discreet reflections of light occasionally captured by his smiling mouth’s moistness . he barely reacts when smoke is blown in his face — louis bites the inside of his cheek instead , trying to remain indifferent to the blond’s childish antics . he only chuckles after hearing lestat’s offering . “ and what will i be doing , lestat ? helping with sound checks ? waiting backstage with the other groupies ? ” an amused smile spreads across his features . perhaps the offer on the table had come with the greatest of intentions but it placed lestat back in the gravitational centre of louis’ life : touring with lestat , watching him , listening to him , waiting on him , wanting him , expecting something from him , every day , every hour and , this time , with an audience to boo and applaud his pathetic efforts . louis shook his head at the man standing across from him . “ i’ve got people waiting on me in dubai , i’ve got — “ none of the names of those expecting his return come to mind while he’s staring lestat in the eye . “ — a whole life to manage . ” louis says , sounding exhausted .

the man’s promises of good behaviour mean nothing . not when he’s desperate to watch lestat break them . one hand finally slips out of his pocket to massage his right temple . “ it’s not you i’m worried about . ” louis confesses with a pointed look . he’s the one who travelled all the way to fucking england to make sure a piece of art he didn’t want wasn’t a fake just so he could have an excuse to see him without having to betray his own conscience . louis was always the one struggling not to drop all of his dignity for a few hours of lestat’s attention . HE WAS NO SAINT — if there was someone amongst the two who needed to learn restraint , IT WAS LOUIS DE POINTE DU LAC . “ surely you know that . ” 

tour life has a few benefits. in every country he is presented with a string of new bodies to suit every possible whim of his. a delectable palette to sample at leisure. some of them have veins pumped so full of drugs that they look like bursting. he likes to feed on the addicts that can make his mind go numb. he wants louis and claudia out of his mind so there’s just his music around him. he is not always successful, it has a tendency to backfire: and those other times he ends up crying hysterically in somebody’s lap, wanting no one more than louis. 

when louis is around, he is disenchanted with his new life. lestat has the world eating crumbs out of his hand and then louis shows up and he wants none of it. just him. he turns his face and lets the hotel’s cheap yellow lights illuminate him and his wet, pink mouth. his lips glisten and beg to be kissed. lestat’s throat becomes a desert and his pupils widen until there’s only hint of grey left in his eye. he tries to tell himself no but there’s still no denying how much he wants it. 

talk of dubai has a sobering effect on him. lestat makes a strangled sound and takes a step back to avoid touching him. “if we were in dubai now would this night end any differently?” the blond tilts his head to one side as he tries to make sense of it, “isn’t it just as bad of an idea as this?” they are in the same place at the same time and louis wishes them worlds away. like they exist only in hypotheticals. maybe sometime. it’s rejection but without giving the final blow, at least that is show lestat sees it. dubai is far away enough that it feels like it’s unlikely to happen, but still it might. lestat laughs when he realizes that louis still doesn’t know that he means it when he says he’d give up the world for him. 5000 miles and a tour is nothing.

he picks a cigarette from his pocket and lights it. he continues to chuckle all the while. amused, hurt, deflecting. lestat hates trying to be good when he knows exactly what it is he wants. “tomorrow. you can conclude whatever business you have here and then fly with me to rome.” he teasingly blows a little smoke in his face, “i’ll be a perfect angel, saint louis. we can talk and nothing else.”

[firstmatedville]

still thinking about piercings,,, there are so many options I'm too indecisive for this shit

[atlasscrumpit]

Bucky - Attached

There wasn't much in the world that Bucky found joy in anymore.

He escaped Hydra and now lived in a shitty apartment in a terrible part of the city.

But one day he saw light in his dark and dreary world.

For once in his new life someone had looked and him and smiled.

It was so simple but he loved the feeling of not being invisible for once.

You were a waitress at a Cafe, you always kept so positive and would smile even if someone was rude to you.

He would sit in the corner booth and just watch you work.

Swearing that he would kill anyone that was rude to you.

"Hey, Buck! Would you liek the usual?" You beautiful voice snapped him out of his trance as he looked up to see you smiling at him.

Over the last three weeks he'd noticed your smile at him was different then your smile at others.

The one you showed him was real.

"Maybe I should try something different." He grumbled starring down at the menu as you smiled.

"Well, I know you're a fan of bitter flavours. The chef made these weird tart things with really bitter chocolate, I can't stand them but I think you'd be perfect for them." You said making him chuckle softly.

"Nothing sounds better, doll." He replied making you smile even more.

"Wonderful, I'll be right back." You said as he watched you leave, already missing your presence.

You eventually brought him his order and he ate while watching you work, like he usually did.

He saw a tall blonde man walk in, he was in a suit and Bucky already knew he was trouble by the way he was looking at you.

His jaw clenched when he saw you smile and say hello to him, but he could see it was a fake smile.

"Bring us something sweet, baby." He demanded before sitting down, Bucky could see the small doubt on your face but it was quickly replaced with a fake smile.

He watched as you went back over to the table and gave them food and coffee.

The man smacked your ass and Bucky lost it and jumped up storming over to the man.

He grabbed his wrist with his metal hand and the man cried out in pain.

"Apologise." He growled looking down at the man.

"Calm the fuck down, dude!" He said before Bucky applied more pressure.

"Fucking apologise." He warned one last time.

"Fine! I'm sorry!" He shouted at you as you flinched a little.

The man ran out of the cafe as you were left stunned.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked turning to you as you nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I just...didn't expect anyone to stand up for me." You muttered making Bucky look at you in shock.

He thought you'd be angry at him.

"No one should treat you like that." He whispered as you looked around to see everyone starring at you.

"I'm just going to get some fresh air." You muttered before rushing out the back entrance.

Bucky followed closely behind you.

"Sorry, it was just too much. Everyone looking at me." You muttered as he nodded.

"What if he comes back with police or something? He might try to take you or me to court or..." You began to panic before Bucky placed his hand on your shoulder.

"Y/N, it's okay. Deep breath, he won't come back and even if he does I have ways to fight him off. You don't have to worry about him." He said as you took a deep breath and nodded.

"Sorry, I just panic so easily." You whispered as he cautiously reached up to hold your cheek in his hand.

You looked up at him and he could see you were begining to calm down.

"You don't need to apologise, not to me." He said as you smiled softly and looked into his eyes.

"Thank you, Bucky." You said as his heart began to flutter.

He couldn't let you go ever again, it was too dangerous for you out there.

But now wasn't the time, he needed to wait till tonight.

"I have to get going, will you be okay?" He asked reluctantly pulling his hand away as you nodded.

"Yeah, I'll be okay." You replied making him smile.

For now he would have to let you go, but he would be back tonight.

--

Bucky knew tonight you would be locking up the shop and he knew now was the perfect time.

He watched you lock the doors, noticing how exhausted you looked.

He crept towards you as you finished locking up.

He had a cloth covered in chloroform in his pocket and readied it.

He quickly grabbed you and covered your mouth.

"Shh, you're safe." He whispered in your ear as you slowly fell unconscious.

"I've got you, baby doll."

--

Bucky sat beside the bed he had set up for you and gently dabbed at your face with a damp cloth.

He couldn't stop starring at your beautiful face.

You whined softly as he looked down at you.

He knew you would be afraid.

"Easy, Y/N. You're okay." He whispered as you slowly opened your heavy eyes.

"Buck?" You muttered as he smiled.

"Good to see you again." He replied, you groaned softly and rubbed your eyes.

"Where am I?" You whispered slowly sitting up and looking around.

"You're in my apartment, doll." He replied making you look at him in confusion.

"Why am I here?" You asked as he smiled softly.

"Because this is where you'll be safe, Y/N." He said making you look at him in confusion.

"I don't understand." You whispered as he reached forward and held your face gently.

"That world out there is too dangerous for you, I need you here where I can protect you." He replied, you quickly stood up and backed away.

"S-So you kidnapped me?" You whispered as he stood up and looked at you.

"Don't look at it like that, doll. You can trust me, I would never hurt you." He said stalking towards you as you looked at him in fear.

"Bucky, you can't do this. I have a life I need to live." You whispered as he held your face in his hand again.

"Go back to a life where you work your ass off for a terrible job? Where you barely have enough money to feed yourself?" He said as you looked up at him.

"It's my choice, Bucky. Not yours." You whispered as he sighed softly.

"I know it doesn't seem fair, but I have to make these decisions for you. You're the only person to ever make me feel something other than hate or fear, I have to protect you from all those people. I've seen what they do to you." He whispered gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

You couldn't even form any words, all you could do was stare at him.

"Do you want something to eat?" He asked as you slowly nodded your head.

Just as he turned around you made a run for it.

"Shit!" He cursed before grabbing you with his metal arm and throwing you to the floor, knocking the wind out of you.

You coughed and splattered as he looked down at you and you looked at his metal arm.

"You're the winter soldier." You whispered breathlessly as he sighed.

"That's not who I am anymore." He grumbled, you continued to stare up at him.

"I'm sorry." You whispered as he looked at you in shock.

"Why are you sorry?" He asked in disbelief.

"I'm sorry for what they did to you." You whispered in response.

Somehow you became even more perfect than you already were.

You felt pain for kidnapper.

"I thought you'd be afraid of me." He muttered as you chuckled a little.

"I mean, maybe I am now because you kidnapped me. But not because of a metal arm or your past." You said making him laugh again.

"I know you're not doing this to hurt me, you had a hard life, Buck. And when you saw me and I treated you like a person, your mind hung onto that and wanted as much of it as it could get." You whispered as he continued to stare down at you.

"But keeping me here against my will isn't the way, Buck." You whispered as he closed his eyes and sighed.

"I know..." He whispered as you reached up and ran your hand over his cheek.

"You can be in my life without having to do something like this. I can help you, you can help me." You said as he leant into your hand.

"Okay, I can do that." He whispered opening his eyes to see you smiling softly.

"Now let's go get a drink, I think we need it."

[myarlert]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐔𝐁 + 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

the hotel has a hot tub, and lucky for you two, there’s nobody around. oh, and there’s only one bed.

— cw; language, kinda boring in the beginning tbh, but you might think different. smut; public sex, some making out, dry humping, unprotected sex [pls practice safe sex], use of ‘baby’, little bit of degradation, mild cervix fucking, creampie

— wc; 2,505 aka the most i’ve written in a LONG TIME so fucking ENJOY

minors do not interact

arriving at the hotel later than predicted, due to that flat you had on the freeway. eren had instructed you to stay in the car, it was to dangerous to get out he said. after it was all fixed up, you two were on your way again. it was a group of you traveling for vacation, armin was with mikasa, jean was with annie, and connie was riding with reiner. but you two were the last to arrive.

it was a little windy out, maybe about sixty degrees. a little chilly, too much so to have the windows down. of course, eren had to argue with you about that. ‘you know i get overheated easily,’ he’d say, having you roll your eyes. just wanting to get out of the car quicker, sick of him being a stinker, you put in your headphones and blast some music. the first song that came on was terrible lie by nine inch nails, so naturally you cranked it up.

—

as soon as he pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, you peered out the window at the multi-story building, glancing around to see a fenced off pool area, dog park and smoking area. this is exactly why you brought a swim suit on such a cold trip, the hot tubs.

‘eren just find a fucking parking spot already.’ you say, grabbing your purse, ready to hop the fuck outta the car. he takes a deep breath and parks, letting you get out to get your backpack. quickly walking into the building, you were greeted by a warm smile from jean. waving at him you stand behind him in line, waiting to check in and receive your room key.

‘hi! i have a room reserved, it’s under the name eren yeager, yeah. thank you!’ you say. it’s crazy how slow it seems to feel while you wait for them to get the key ready, it’s like you immediately have to go pee and can’t wait. and you didn’t have to go before, it’s just one of those things, like right when you get comfortable in bed and bam. when you get your room key, you hear the lobby doors slide open, seeing eren standing there with a bag in his hand and a backpack thrown over his shoulder. he gazes at you as you flash him the room key, gesturing for him to follow you.

he picks up his pace in order to keep up with you into the elevator. ‘so what floor are we on?’ he asks, shifting the backpack on his shoulder up more so it would stop threatening to slide off. ‘fifth.’ you replied, ‘i asked the others and i guess we got the highest, they are all on the first floor. the lady said this was the last room available.’ he nods.

once the door opens and you find your way to the room, you tap the key against the lock and it flashes a green light. opening the door your shoulders drop. one bed? and a fucking twin? no couch either.

‘you’ve got to be shitting me.’ you sound defeated as eren pushes past you into the room, setting his bags on the small desk beside the tv stand. ‘i’m going back down, this is ridiculous.’ you set your things down but throw your purse over your body. he snorts and crosses his arms over his chest.

‘hey wait, didn’t you say she said this was the last room available? we can make it work, don’t you?’ your jaw dropped and you gave him a ‘are you serious’ look. ‘eren this is a twin size bed. i don’t want to sleep that close to you.’ he makes a fake pained gesture and chuckles again. ‘it isn’t the worst thing in the world y/n. deal with it. if it makes you feel any better, i can sleep on the floor.’ ‘eren don’t be dumb. hotel floors are fucking disgusting. we’ll just.. have to fit i guess. but anyways, i’m going to take a shower and head to the hot tub. i need to get this car ride gunk off me.’

—

shit. you were so tired that your backpack was still out on the bed, and with the small body towels they leave in the bathroom, there is no way you can get it.

‘uh, eren? you out there?’ you call out, hearing the bed squeak a little and some footsteps there’s a soft knock on the door. ‘you good?’

‘yeah can you just- can you get my bag for me?’ rubbing your eyes, getting a little water in them you hear another knock on the door. opening it slightly you see his hand enter with your purse. ‘not that one, my backpack please. i need my bathing suit.’ he clears his throat and returns with just your bathing suit. the strings of your top wrapped around his fingers. not looking at his hands very often, you get distracted by the pretty veins that adorn the top of his hand. before you could grab it or even come back to reality, you can hear him clear his throat again. ‘you gonna take it? i’m heading down there too, i’ll just change out here. i’ll meet you down there, yeah?’ you give him a short response and close the door again. thoughts rush into your head, how he would pull the shit up over his head.. the muscles on his back..

fuck. you cant reach the other string on this top, keeps slipping. dropping your shoulders and turning around, you call out to eren again who promptly knocks on the door again, letting you know he was still in the room.

‘can you tie this for me? the doors unlocked, you can come in.’ you turn your back to the door, hearing it open and close behind him. he didn’t need to close it, but he did. you feel his warm touch on your shoulders, ‘i’m right here, don’t punch me.’ you smile and hand him the strings. he definitely catches sight of your side boob, his own lips twisting into a smirk and he lets his fingertips ‘accidentally’ brush against your back a few times. you didn’t hate him, you see, you were just nervous around him and it made you seem that way. you’ve never hated him. and he knows that, he knows what he fucking does to you. he can see the goosebumps creep onto your skin.

‘all done. it’s a nice bikini by the way, cool color.’ he gives you a dorky thumbs up as you turn around, throwing on a t-shirt that wasn’t quite long enough. ‘damn it.’ you whispered to yourself, trying to tug it down to at least cover your rear. ‘want mine? i’ll give you a clean one.’

—

finally stepping down into the hot water, your senses immediately get foggy. happy, bliss, comfort were running through your system. taking a seat on the bench beneath the bubbles, you rest your head back against the edge of the tub. hearing eren get in as well, you try your best to hold back a smile but it definitely shows.

‘why are you smiling? is there a rip in my trunks?’ now you laugh a little, opening your eyes to see him sitting much closer than you thought he was. his thigh brushing against yours softly, again giving you chills. ‘no, i’m just happy. warm. these are so relaxing.’ you moan when you feel a jet right in the middle of your back turn on. opening your eyes wide as you realize the noise you just made, turning to eren to see him gazing down at you with his eyes hooded. such a sultry look for him. his hair was pulled back into a loose bun, the tips getting wet from the water and water vapor. he looked like a god, you couldn’t deny it. the next thing he says however, definitely catches you off guard.

‘feels good?’ the smirk on his lips is taunting almost. he lets his hand slide onto your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. you would be absolutely lying if you said he didn’t turn you on. he definitely did. you nod, the tips of your hair touching the water, getting wet. you watch as his gaze pans from your eyes, to your tits, into the water at your thighs and back up. he looks around for a brief moment, then back at you, squeezing your thigh once again. ‘do you wanna do something crazy?’

‘uhh define crazy?’ you say, furrowing your brows as he dips his head down to yours, the hand that was on your thigh now lifting your chin up slightly. the burn from the hot water now lingering on your chin. his lips are soft and warm, tasting a little like the strawberry lemonade he had been drinking earlier. it takes you off guard however when his teeth gently nip at your bottom lip, then feeling his tongue grazing over it just a second later. he was so intoxicating.

‘mhm, wanna do something crazy eren, please..’ he chuckles against your lips, the vibrations tickling yours. he grips harder at your thighs, gesturing for you to straddle his hips. as you do, he gently but needlingly grinds your hips down against his, letting you feel just how hard he was getting beneath his trunks. smiling into the kiss, ‘and i thought it was just me that was super fucking horny.’ grinding down on your own now, getting quicker and quicker. ‘pull them to the side baby, yeah?’ he pulls away and messes with the string on the back of your top. not taking it off, but just wrapping his fingers around the strings like earlier. ‘won’t someone see us ‘ren? what if someone comes out?’ you stop your movements and feel his cock under you. ‘would you rather go to the twin size bed? or would you rather me slide my cock in that little pussy here, where it would look oh so inconspicuous. like you were just sitting on my lap. kissing me. hm?

fuck he was persuasive. you wrap a hand around his neck and lift your hips a little, allowing for him to slip himself out of his trunks and slide your bottoms to the side. a gasp falls from your lips as you feel his wet tip brushing against your clit, running up and down between your lips. ‘j-just put it in already ‘ren.’ your eyes nervously scanned the pool area, not seeing any security cameras in sight nor people inside the building near the exit. you feel his warm, wet hands on your hips, pushing you down so lightly, letting his cock fill you up. his head rolls back and you watch as his eyebrows furrow at the feeling, mouth hanging open.

‘s-shit you feel so fucking good baby, oohhfff-’ he grunts as you start to slowly bounce, not wanting to seem completely obvious about what you were doing in the hotels hot tub. ‘n-no, don’t go any faster, go slow. let it bubble inside okay? want this to last..’ he groans again, one hand traveling up your spine, letting it rest at the back of your neck, his other hand resting on your hip, squeezing tightly every now and then. you can feel every inch of him moving in and out of you.

he chuckles as you whine, wanting to go faster but his hand stops you from doing so. ‘will me rubbing that little clit help you baby? you wanna cum that bad? oh.. you’re so naughty for riding me in public like this.. so fucking sexy baby.’ his lips are parted yet meet yours in a heated, breathless kiss as his thumb presses against you, rubbing little circles against your clit, causing you to break the kiss and whine. the pleasure is so blinding it has you losing complete control of your hips, sinking all the way down onto him. almost painfully so, the way his cock kisses your cervix.

you feel his lips brush your ear, wrapping an arm around your waist, using the other hand to brush some hair out of your face. ‘be quiet for me and i’ll make you cum.’ you desperately nod as he angles you in a way that you’re just above him, and he begins fucking himself up into you. biting you lip to hold in the desperate moans you want to let tumble out because you are so fucking close to the edge it isn’t even funny. ‘oh yes baby, FUCK. can feel you getting more tense.. you gonna cum f’ me baby?’ he growls. his right hand is now caressing your cheek, his thumb brushing it softly. it is such a sharp contrast between that and the way his cock is quite literally balls deep inside you.

your hands desperately find purchase on the backs of his shoulders and neck, ‘e-eren, eren, EREN,’ as you cum around his cock, soaking it in your slick. your voice sounds like fucking liquid, molten gold to him, an actual symphony and hearing you moan his name like that has him cumming. his grip on your waist is piercing, but hearing his broken, strangled noises as he tries his hardest to subdue them added in with the feeling of his cum pumping into you, rope after warm rope catapults you into another more intense orgasm. ‘h-holy shit.. did you finish twice baby?’ he grunts, tossing his head back letting out a deep breath as he rubs your hips with his hot hands.

your nails scratch lightly at his shoulder blades, eyes closed while you take some breaths through your nose to try to calm yourself. you nod into his neck and laugh. he chuckles as well, shifting upwards a little to slip out of you, allowing you to quickly put your bikini to normal and for him to pull his trunks back up. ‘fuck.. did you see all that cum? shit baby.. took me so fucking well.’ he kisses your forehead and you giggle, jokingly saying, ‘yeah i felt it too.’

‘so since you came twice.. how’s about we go back up to the room, eat a bit of food, drink some water and then go for round two?’ he helps you out of the hot tub while speaking, watching as your knees gently wobble when standing up, smirking to himself at the achievement. ‘i think that sounds good, really thirsty.’

—

and halfway through eating eren gets a phone call from jean, and upon answering it you can hear jean singing loudly through it, ‘Y/N AND EREN FUCKIN IN THE HOT TUB..’

tagging @pocks-waifu @paradisdementor

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

The Kind that Never Slows Down | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 10k

✦ summary — Gotham is hit with a spell that changes your perception of Damian forever.

✦ warnings — nsfw, semi-public sex, non-con sex (not really but just to be safe), angst, language, light jealousy, light possessiveness, mentions of food, smut, unprotected sex (please don’t do this), consensual sex, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, fluff.

✦ author's note — this one should’ve been published a long time ago, but I just got around editing it. Hope you like it.

════════════════════════

The abandoned building smelled like piss and mold, the only light available entered through a broken window, and you were pretty sure you had heard rats roaming around.

But you didn’t care. Robin’s hands were all over you, plump lips sucking on your neck like his life depended on it as he pounded into you.

It wasn’t enough.

He had skipped foreplay on your insistence. You needed him more than anything, if he didn’t fuck you right there in that moment you wouldn’t be able to survive.

He grunted out of pleasure as you clenched around him, gripping your hips to ground himself as he picked up his already relentless pace.

It still wasn’t enough.

Having his cum down your thighs and marks over your neck from his kisses wasn’t enough either. Your body craved all of him, including his whining and abrasive words.

Noise outside prompted him to part from you completely. Both of you fixed yourselves as best as you could in silence, avoiding looking at the other.

You followed him outside with a sense of guilt hovering over you like a dark cloud. You felt like you had just gotten out of a trance after committing the worst of the crimes.

Nightwing stopped you by yelling, “Where were you? I looked for you two everywhere.”

“We were looking for you,” Robin lied smoothly.

Nightwing’s shoulders slumped as he nodded. “Well, Zatana undid the spell.”

Suddenly Damian’s urgent voice as he said he needed you made all the sense in the world. His need for you and your need for him had been magic-induced.

Of course it had been! You two were mere acquaintances who fought all the time for the most minimal things in the world or ignored the other to the point of making people around you uncomfortable. It was a surprise that you worked well together at night.

“A lust spell, right?”

“Well, no,” Nightwing chuckled. “According to her, the spell showed people what their heart desires the most.”

Robin stiffened beside you, and you felt every drop of blood drain from your face and fall to your feet.

“Did you hear a lot of people having sex?”

“Yeah,” you croaked. “Tons of them.”

The moment you got home, you ripped your suit off and walked into the shower. You washed his cum off you, scrubbing your body twice just to make sure.

Wishing the soap could erase the marks on your neck and the memory of the way he had moaned your name, you decided to take a pill to sleep.

You hadn’t needed one of those in months, but Damian was that special. Or annoying.

God, you hated him and his stupid ego. He would surely find funny the lengths you would have to go to put this in the past.

He loved being the center of attention as much as he hated you, that was why you always tried your best to avoid him. When you didn’t avoid him, he made weird faces at you and scoffed every time you laughed.

Turning the lamp off, you hoped for the best.

Meanwhile, Damian ignored Dick’s inquiries. Why did his brother care if he was extremely quiet or if he looked like he was about to explode?

Your scent was all over him, still bewitching him, overpowering his sweat and the smell of everybody around him.

Looking down at his hands, the gloved palms that had hours before gripped and traced as much of your body as your suit had allowed him to, Damian clenched his jaw.

How could he have been so stupid? There was no other reason for you to beg him to fuck you the way you had — magic! He fucking hated magic.

But Dick’s explanation... that was worse. More stupid. He hated it too. His brother had to be wrong.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone from his family was wrong regarding magic, and Zatanna while an expert had her own biases.

Besides, his heart could have been desiring to get off the most just like yours. The two of you were busy people after all.

“Did the spell show you anything, Dami?”

The prettiest face he had seen in his entire life. “A pet demon.”

He regretted the lie the moment he said it. Damian wished a lot of things could be different. His mother would be furious if she knew how sentimental he was becoming, if she found out how often he gave into wishful thinking.

For once, he wanted to be open. But as always something was stopping him. Sometimes he wondered if he had been born to be like that or if his grandfather had simply lied.

Leaving the cave the moment he was dismissed, he trotted upstairs almost praying Dick wouldn’t follow him.

He couldn’t stop replaying the way you clung to him, or the harshness of your kiss. It had felt real, and too perfect to be happening to him all at once.

But you hated him, everybody and their mother knew that.

════════════════════════

Barbara had never been subtle around you. There had never been a need for such a thing — she was like the older sister you never had, you two carried the other’s secrets and burdens.

Back when you met her, barely as a teen, she provided a safe place you only had ever dreamt of having. You vowed to give it all back; she deserved it.

“What’s up with the turtleneck?” She asked, unsubtly so with her bright eyes on your neck.

“I have a cold,” you feigned a rasp. Perhaps this secret wouldn’t be shared.

“Mmmh. Really?” She poured herself a cup of coffee. “Dick said Damian was feeling under the weather too.”

Yup. Definitely not sharing. It would be embarrassing. She had always had the theory that you were in love with Damian just because you complained about him on a weekly basis.

It was like she had never met him.

In a way, the theory was correct. But it lacked a lot of details — a spell had confirmed it from all things. It sounded ironic, quite suitable to your situation.

“Flu season, I guess.”

It was a bad lie. Everybody knew when flu season arrived because Tim started getting a stuffy nose and limiting his consumption of Red Bull in order to drink more water.

”Did the spell from the other night show you anything?”

You faked a cough, shaking your head. “I was busy on patrol.”

“I was too and I saw Dick.”

“That’s just wishful thinking, Babs. It’s cute, though.”

Her not seeing Dick would have surprised you. They had known each other for years, gone through so much together... most people wanted what they had.

“Is there a particular reason why you’re lying to me?”

You wrapped your fingers around your mug. The heat transferring from the ceramic to your palm reminded you of Damian’s breath on your lips.

Taking a gulp of coffee, you blinked rapidly. “You don’t think it’s cute?”

She rolled her eyes. “Everybody saw something. It’s how those spells work.”

“There must be something wrong with me.”

There really had to be something awfully wrong with you. Saying out loud that you wanted Damian more than anything in the world terrified you.

It was a normal thing. Not wanting him specifically, but wanting someone — everybody craved attention and love at some level, you just happened to crave Damian’s at every single one.

He was the problem, not you.

════════════════════════

Movie marathons weren’t something Damian really cared for, but they were better than hearing his father complain about minor things like if he had ruined a goon’s lungs or whatever.

Alfred called it bonding time which he supposed was a fair assessment. He found Tim’s taste in movies quite good, and now he didn’t get the urge to strangle his slightly older brother in his sleep.

His stepmother was there too. Selina had been the reason why Bruce shifted his ways, she urged him to either find a balance or stop adding people to the team.

Duke made him pass a bowl of popcorn to Tim who did the same to Stephanie. The bowl landed on Dick who was on the row behind them, just next to Jason.

Getting more comfortable on his seat, his eyes fell on the empty spot to Duke’s right. Cassandra used to sit there until one afternoon Duke couldn’t seem to shut up and she asked you to switch places. You always went with the things Duke said, sometimes even asked his opinion.

Damian complained once, telling his sister to suck it up next time. But Cassandra would never do something he told her to, that was perhaps why she was his favorite.

Everyone around him was in an amazing mood which he didn’t understand. Bruce had just tried to tell a joke, and Jason was mocking how dumb it was.

Selina laughed loudly, in that way people did when they felt genuinely happy. At least that was what he supposed; Damian wasn’t sure he had ever experienced happiness.

The sound of an approaching wheelchair made his ears perk up. Not a single pair of shoes could be heard against the floor. Fighting a frown, he turned to look at the door.

Barbara waved at all of them with a smile, maneuvering her wheelchair to sit next to Dick’s seat. Craning his neck with the excuse of saying hi, Damian watched her give Dick a chaste kiss.

“Where’s (Nickname)?” Dick asked, lifting his arm to rest it on the back of Barbara’s chair.

“She said she was feeling sick. Although...” Barbara giggled, leaning onto Dick’s arm. “I heard the voice of a guy in the background so she might have company.”

Damian felt sick upon hearing such a thing. First, you had asked to be paired up with Duke for patrol and now this? It was too much even for your pettiness — granted, he had planned on putting more distance between you two, but he hadn’t gone around trying to find someone to erase you.

The thought never crossed him, not for a single moment. He had wondered why he wished to cling to a memory when he had never been the sentimental type, but he realized that to be the entire point of deep desires.

“Well, it’s time,” Stephanie commented, “she’s been single for too long.”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to scare him off,” Selina added.

Damian stood up from the now uncomfortable seat, forcing Duke to do the same so he could leave. Duke stared at him weirdly, with worry, as if he knew something Damian didn’t want him to.

He probably did. Damian had been careless two times in a row. God, he needed to get a fucking grip. Unconsciously, he fiddled with the neck of his sweater.

“Oi,” Jason called for him, “where are you going?”

“Out,” he answered angrily. “If other... members... may skip this, why can’t I?”

Barbara and Dick shared a sideways glance.

Only telling Alfred that he would be back later, Damian followed the path towards the garage. Skipping his bike for once, finding himself thinking he wanted to take as little shortcuts as possible for whatever reason, he took his car.

Damian had always been a fan of driving. He didn’t know why, it was tedious and didn’t serve many purposes in the grand scheme of things; not to him. Ever since he learned, he took every opportunity he got to drive whichever vehicle he could get his hands on.

Having control over vehicles and machines was nice, he supposed. If people were a little bit more like said things, everything would have been easier. The world would be boring, but easier to habit.

Saving people was easy, caring about them from afar gave him enough human interaction for his standards, but he would never understand them.

And for the first time since he tried to decode his mother’s attitude, he wanted to understand someone more than anything. Perhaps that way said someone would understand him back and untangle this mess.

The building before him wasn’t welcoming. He had never put foot into that place, but he knew every single person that lived there — patrol gave him that kind of knowledge. And he did some research months ago, but no one needed to be aware of such thing.

He pressed his ear to the door he had been looking for. The dishwasher was on, but he couldn’t pick up any other sound. Damian knocked on said door three times, quickly and loudly. There was no answer so he did it again. A door slammed shut inside the apartment, a groan accompanied by a string of curses got clearer as stomps approached him.

Standing tall and straight, he felt a thrill down his spine as the lock was loudly fiddled with.

You swung the door open, rubbing your eye. He observed you had thrown a turtleneck on, upside down. Damian walked past you without invitation, analyzing the living room.

There were no clothes scattered all over the floor like he had imagined he would find.

“What are you doing here?”

He ignored you, exploring the kitchen. Damian opened the fridge, narrowing his eyes as he inspected. He did the same with the cupboards.

Shoving your bedroom door open, he found the bed undone. The TV was on, playing an old movie. He heard your steps as you followed him, repeating your question.

“Is someone from the team in danger?” You asked next.

Damian pulled your closet open, tilting his head. You could’ve been more organized, he admitted to himself, but there was nothing unusual.

Craning his neck to look at you, he inquired, “Where is he?”

“Where’s who?! What’s going on?”

He stared at you, waiting for you to crack. To his surprise, you stared back — defiant, blinking less and less as the seconds passed.

You were mad, he could tell. It only made him grow more suspicious. Tensing under your eyes, sharp instead of soft like they usually were, he scoffed; he couldn’t show he cared.

“Dude,” you insisted, “you are scaring me. What happened?”

Shaking his head, he pushed past you again and continued his search. The bathroom was warm, the mirror fogged up and tiles sprinkled with drops of water.

He turned around, watching you again. Well, your hair was wet now that he paid more attention to it...

Damian checked in the small laundry room too, but he found bottles of detergent and folded towels next to your suit. Nothing else. No one else.

“Damian—“

“Shut up.” He pointed at you with a finger.

“You are the one who came to my place to look for whatever or whoever you are searching for! Unprompted!”

He didn’t answer.

You went back to your bedroom to turn the TV off and pause the movie, resigned to the fact that he had ruined your self-care day.

No one knew you would be home that day. You had ignored everybody’s calls and avoided being active on social media just in case they were stalking you. Turns out the utmost secrecy isn’t enough to avoid Damian Wayne.

He stood in the living room, looking down at the coffee table as if expecting the furniture to turn into something else. Fixing his eyes on the centerpiece he knew Dick had given you as a gift because it reminded him of you, Damian furrowed his brows.

“Have you been alone the entire day?” He asked, feeling your presence behind him.

“My neighbor brought some cake. Other than that, yeah.”

“Barbara said you had... company.”

“I haven’t talked to Babs in days.”

Barbara had continued asking about what you saw that night with the spell, and you weren’t willing to say it still. Weeks had passed, but it felt like mere seconds had at times. It was so easy for her to ask, to assume things.

Only you knew the conflict you were feeling. She would never understand how awful it was to find out the one you desire the most is the one who likes you the least.

You had entertained the naive idea that he was in the same position, but the more you replayed what had happened, the more you convinced yourself it had been one-sided. He gave in because the release was pleasant, nothing else. People say things they don’t mean while having sex.

You had done it before, for fuck’s sake. You had faked having a good time before, who was to say Damian hadn’t done the same with you?

“Have you seen anybody else?” He blurted.

“My neighbor, I told you.”

He reformulated, “Have you had sex with anybody else?”

You considered lying, you really did. It would make the tension go away, you would have to see him around with other people but it would save you from a lot of embarrassment.

A part of you told you it was stupid, that you wouldn’t be able to take it. Much less when the people who usually took some interest in you tended to ghost you for whatever reason.

“Not since that night, if that’s what you’re asking,” you admitted.

“Good.” It slipped, but he didn’t care. He meant it, and it felt nice to say things he meant, no matter how harsh they could sound.

You rounded the room, crossing your arms as you stood in front of him. “Why are you here?”

“I was told you had company,” he repeated himself.

“And your logic was to interrupt me?”

“Yes.”

You couldn’t believe him. Did he want you to be alone and miserable your entire life?

The worst part was that you would probably be. Finding out you liked him, that you wanted to have him around, that you craved his attention, and his touch, rocked your world and shattered it.

Who would ever compare to him? His flaws were other people’s better qualities, even you who didn’t know his good side that well was aware of that.

“Do you really hate me that much? I’ve never done anything to you!”

He finally lifted his head. You wished he hadn’t, you wished you didn’t have to see anything other than anger in his handsome features. “I don’t hate you. I would make your life a living hell if I did.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” you chuckled, way more sadly than you thought yourself capable to feel regarding anything that came from him. “You roll your eyes at me every time I visit your house, Damian.”

“It’s not intended at you.”

“The scoffs sure are,” you reproached him, “and your stupid comments of how unfunny anything that makes me laugh is.”

“It’s not because of you,” he shouted. Shaking his head, vexed, he twisted his mouth as he huffed his anger out through his nose. “Cassandra’s jokes aren’t even that funny.”

“See?”

“Why don’t you laugh at mine?” He reproached now, crossing his arms to mimic your stance. “Why is it always one of my siblings or my friends who get a positive response but not me?”

“Oh, come on! You’re saying that like I didn’t come by hearing you say my name a few weeks ago!” Your words stunned him into silence which you used to your advantage. “You never tell jokes in front of me, how am I supposed to laugh at them? I always feel like shit because you only accept being around me on patrol, you entrench yourself in your room and make a point to slam the door shut just so I hear... you know what? Forget it.”

“I hate seeing you with them,” he said, wishing his words hadn’t carried that much emotion. “I always bribe people to not ask you out or to leave you alone, I have to watch you hug Jon and kiss my siblings’ faces. You’re always so damn nice until I appear... I prefer being alone than enduring your indifference.”

You widened your eyes. “You bribe people to not ask me out?!”

“Is that the only upsetting part from everything I said?” he snapped.

“No, no. Of course not. I just...”

He hummed. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“A waste of money, honestly.”

“If I didn’t, you would be with someone else right now. Probably Duke, you’ve always liked him.”

“You bribed Duke?” You let a small laugh out. “Duke? Our Duke?”

“Yes! Stop mocking me.”

“Duke knows everything, you know?” You admitted, uncrossing your arms.

You hadn’t been able to keep things to yourself for that long. Seeing Damian around suddenly hurt. The feeling had always been there, but finding out that he was your heart’s deepest desire wrecked your perception

When you told Duke, he reacted casually, as if you had told him the most obvious thing in the world. He said you and Damian were the only ones who hadn’t seen it.

“He knew certain things before I did, in fact,” you added. “Besides, I see him as a brother and he sees me as a sister.”

Damian nodded. It made sense, now Duke’s attitude seemed normal in comparison to what Damian had assumed.

He always assumed things. Bruce had told him once that he needed to learn to ask before acting out — this was the first time Damian found his father’s words useful.

“Why did you kiss me that night?”

“I believe it was more than kissing.”

“Yes.” Damian hadn’t been able to forget, he never would. “But why?”

“I felt... I don’t know how to explain it,” you confessed.

The room suddenly felt small, extremely hot. You shed the stupid turtleneck, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done the stubborn marks on your neck.

Make-up had hidden them well for a few days, and most of them had faded already, but there were two bite-marks, too big and deep, that needed more healing time.

“I was scared,” you told him, “that’s why I felt the rush to take your hand. And it was enough for a while, but then it wasn’t, I wanted you closer.”

“I couldn’t breathe. I assumed I was being poisoned. Then you took my hand and I panicked for a moment, I thought...” his voice broke.

You gave him time, trying your hardest to hide how surprised you were by hearing him like that.

“I thought you were having the same symptoms,” he rasped. “I’ve been trained to fight those things off, but you haven’t and I knew you would die. Your hand made it better for a few minutes, then I needed you closer too.”

“We can forget about it if you want,” you assured him, avoiding looking at his face in case your comment relieved him.

“I don’t.”

Damian reached for your hand in the same fashion you had that cursed —literally— night, shakily, urgently.

And in the same fashion he had, you allowed him to take it.

He brought you closer to him. You observed he looked more tired than ever, perhaps because things had been tense for the past weeks. You couldn’t have possibly looked too different.

“The spell doesn’t have to dictate this,” he said, tilting his head to look into your eyes. “It won’t. You know I don’t trust magic.”

“The spell is not the problem,” you whispered.

“I didn’t think there was a problem.”

“We have never spent time together outside of patrol, Damian.”

He sighed, nodding. “Get changed. Let’s go out.”

Only a lunatic would give their self-care day up for a guy. Well, you didn’t really care if people thought you were a lunatic, and Damian wasn’t just a guy — still, giving up the ice cream in your fridge was a sin.

A sin you were happy to commit.

Damian waited for you to get changed, patiently if anyone asked you. It had taken you a few minutes to even choose something appropriate, based on his own outfit because that was just logic.

He slipped his cellphone into his pocket while you locked the door. As you turned around to take off, he offered his hand.

You took it, intertwining your fingers with his as you walked down the hallway. In the middle of the stairway, you bumped into one of your neighbors who smiled sweetly at both of you. To your surprise, Damian smiled back.

Also surprised to discover he hadn’t taken his bike, you bowed as a thank you when he opened the door of his car for you.

“Do you want to put some music on?” he offered.

“You pick,” you said, curious as to what he would play.

You could’ve sworn he was nervous as he stared down at his phone, looking for something to play. He scrolled down, then up — he switched apps, then continued scrolling.

“I’m not picky.” Your tone was soft, an attempt to assure him.

“I don’t really listen to a variety of genres.”

“What do you listen to the most?”

“Classical. My mother got me used to it.”

You rested the side of your head on the backrest of the seat, looking at him. “You can play that if you want. Or we can just talk about the weather and whatnot. I think it might rain tonight. You like rain, right?”

He locked his cellphone, turning to face you. “Yes. It calms me.”

“I hated it as a kid,” you disclosed, hoping it would ease the tension and better his mood. “I was scared of thunderstorms.”

Igniting the engine, he prompted you to continue, “Not anymore?”

“No. My mom used to tell me that the only reason why they were so noisy was that the sky was happy to unwind and eventually I believed it.”

“That’s cute.”

“I had a phase in which I was in a bad mood if it didn’t rain.” You laughed at your own comment. “Now I like it just fine, less obsessively.”

“I had a similar fixation with snow.” He laughed too, and your stomach did somersaults — it was the first time you had heard him laugh genuinely.

Damian didn’t talk about life at The League often, he didn’t feel compelled when he knew the preconceptions that came with simply mentioning the place or his maternal family.

In fact, everything Batman Inc.’s members knew had been from Bruce. He liked the secrecy, those were parts of him and no one else. But he was willing to share tiny pieces with you.

He saw it as something supposed to be shared between two people interested in starting a relationship.

So he continued, “I would only climb mountains if they were covered by snow. My mother called me a brat many times, but she gave into my wishes for a while.”

“How did you grow out of it?”

“I broke my elbow.” He briefly looked to the side and then took a turn. “I proved her right, and I didn’t like not having the last word so I started despising the snow. I don’t mind it now.”

Before you could ask anything else, he pulled into the grocery store’s parking lot.

He picked a basket once inside the store, making a motion for you to follow him.

“What are we buying?”

“Fruit and whatever you want for a picnic.”

Realizing you weren’t near the fruits aisle, you gripped his sweater, steering him to the other side. Of course he wasn’t used to doing groceries.

He silently allowed you to guide him which was a win, Damian hated being told what to do no matter how small the suggestion was.

It didn’t take either of you too long to get everything you needed, but he spent ten minutes choosing a blanket as if he wouldn’t ruin the poor thing with mud and insects.

Passing the clothing area on your way to do checkout, you elbowed him on the side. He stared down at you, then followed your eyes as he realized they were fixed on something.

Damian groaned. “You’re so funny.”

“Oh, come on! You’re telling me you wouldn’t buy Batman underwear?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not.”

You narrowed your eyes, keeping your laugh in when you saw what resembled a pout on his face. “Robin’s?” you tried.

“Perhaps.”

You lost it at that. “Are they comfy?”

“Will you stop laughing if I say yes?”

“Only if it’s the truth.”

He just nodded, then did the gesture upward so you would resume the path towards the exit.

Pleased with his answer, you walked towards the checkout line. Damian stood behind you, breathing your scent in.

“Is that a new perfume?”

You craned your neck. “How did you know?”

Shrugging, hoping he was being nonchalant enough, he said, “I have a good nose.”

After a brief fight over who would pay for the groceries, —which he won by saying it had been his idea—, you left the store in direction of the park.

Your hand found his naturally, as if your palm’s place was to be pressed against his bigger one.

It felt good, but not really because of that bullshit —true, but bullshit still when magic was so unpredictable— of him being what your heart desired the most. The truth was that you could feel in his grip how much he wanted this to go well.

Swinging your clasped hands, you walked around the park, looking for the perfect spot to sit at.

You found a spot away from the kids running around, against a tree. Damian laid the blanket on the grass, placing the paper bags onto it next.

He slid an arm around your shoulders, using his other hand to eat.

“Do you think your family is already spying on us?” you asked gazing at him as you leaned onto his arm.

“I am certain.”

“You don’t mind?”

He lightly smiled at you, reaching for a strawberry. “Not at all. Do you?”

“Nah. I’m not looking forward to Barbara’s teasing, though.”

“Why did she tell us you had a guy over?” He bit down into the fruit.

“She has always said I have feelings for you.” You wiped the corner of his mouth with your thumb. It never occurred to either of you that you would need napkins. “And I guess she put two and two together when we covered our necks and used the same excuse.”

“In my defense, I could have blamed Tim.”

“In my defense,” you copied his smart-ass tone, “I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“You told Duke from all people.”

“Duke was supportive.”

Damian hummed sarcastically. “I’m sure everybody knows the details already. He loves to gossip.”

Seeing you frown before you turned to look to the other side, he reached for your farthest cheek, softly pushing your face so you would stare at him.

“I don’t care if they know.”

You wished you could have believed him. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have avoided me the same way I avoided you.”

“I cared,” he clarified, “not anymore.”

“What changed?”

“Me, my priorities… my vision of you, of this.”

You took an apple in your hand. Rolling the fruit in your grasp, you only nodded. Saying something else would have been nice, appropriate even, but words escaped you.

The fact that he didn’t hate you was still pretty new, shocking to some extent. His willingness to be seen with you by family and strangers alike was a huge compliment, and a big deal.

It was too serious so suddenly… you liked it no matter how scary it was. There had to be a reason why he felt so sure about this, and trusting Damian had never been a bad idea.

Except from that time when you ended up with stitches all over your arm, but you could let that go if it meant having him by your side. As corny as it sounded.

“Meetings will be weird, won’t they?” You sunk your teeth into the apple, hearing him chuckle.

“Less awkward, I hope. Although I enjoy vexing my siblings.”

“We can have fake fights in front of them if you want.”

“And blame them for our nonexistent problems?”

“Of course, I’m sure they will try to give their input either way.”

Damian groaned. He feared just that. It would be out of a place of care, he knew, but it didn’t make it less intrusive — he could picture Dick, sitting down in front of him in the cave, with a big smile and dangling his finger as he told him the way he was supposed to treat you.

He liked to imagine that Cassandra would only threaten him. Perhaps Stephanie would do the same and stop Tim from patronizing him.

Not wanting to ruin the moment by thinking what would Jason and Duke do, he shifted and changed the subject to the movie you had been watching earlier.

You explained that it had been one of your favorites and told him the plot between bites, amused by the fact that he was trying to look interested even though you knew it wasn’t his type of movie.

He told you about the movies the team was supposed to watch that day. You didn’t feel guilty for skipping; as much as you loved them, you needed time for yourself.

Spending time with Damian on this occasion counted as time for yourself, although you would make yourself clear to him that you would eventually need alone time for real. It was a mere exception.

The two of you walked around the park for a while, talking about random things. He was surprisingly easy to talk to once you tried, and God did you try.

It couldn’t get better than hearing him speak casually, about the architecture nearby and the types of flora around the park, in a light tone and with his hand in yours.

Your fingers played with his, and once again you found yourself in awe of him, of how comfortable he was with the mindless gesture and his willingness to keep up with it. You doubted someone would ever surprise you as much as Damian did.

Slowing down a little bit to take the scenery in, you naturally tightened the grip of your fingers on his.

It was such a nice day to be outside… perhaps the weather cast had been wrong and it wouldn’t rain.

The city was bathed in a pink glow as the sun set, unrecognizable. No one would have guessed such scenery to take place in a deeply violent and corrupted place, not even the most optimistic person in the world.

You remembered clearly how surprised Jon had been the first time he saw something other than thundering rain and gray skies in Gotham.

Glittering under the sunlight, the flowers at the end of the playground looked alive for once as the sky stunned many around you. And when you turned to look at Damian, curious about his reaction, you found his eyes solely on you.

The trees, so green under the light of dusk, had nothing on Damian’s eyes. Such thought, so familiar that you felt as though it wasn’t the first time it crossed your mind, so natural that you found it a fact and not an opinion, made you forget about everything around you.

He continued gazing at you, finding the curiosity in your beautiful eyes flattering. Oh, how much he enjoyed being the object of your attention.

The scenery behind you was gorgeous, he was certain of it. In his opinion, you complimented the view in ways nothing would ever do — there was something in your peaceful semblance as you tore your gaze off the sky and admired him instead.

You could’ve been sharing a silent moment with the strangers around you, one of those things he had heard you say once made the world make sense, yet your eyes were on him, on his face. And it made him feel important like nothing before had.

His father’s praises, the ones he had sought for so long were nothing in comparison. Dick’s patience although fundamental to his development as a man fell short against the way your eyes were shining for him.

Twilight swirled around you, but his eyes never left your face nor yours did his. The world didn’t exist, and if it existed, then it didn’t matter — not when you found him worth all your attention, not when he thought you to be brighter than the sun itself.

The air in the car as he drove you back to your place was thick and tense. He hadn’t said a word since he told you about that time Bruce inaugurated the school across the park.

Damian looked lost in thought, like often you had seen him while out on patrol. The places his mind took him had never compromised his performance — you admired that.

Bruce had called him out an infinite amount of times, but he couldn’t do anything else when Damian always delivered. You had wondered how he did it many times, but now you had to assume Talia taught him.

He walked you into the building, fingers brushing your wrist as you fell in natural silence.

Fumbling for your keys, you felt him lean onto the wall just next to your door. You took more time than needed to open the door, hoping he would say or do something.

When he didn’t, you pushed the door open and turned on your heel to face him.

“I had an amazing day with you,” he said, eyes on yours.

You breathed out, “I did too.”

Why couldn’t the day last longer? You logically knew you would see him again, but something inside you wanted him to stay. You wanted him to stay, better said.

Would it be too bold, too sudden, to invite him in? He probably had patrol that night — hell, you were supposed to be getting into your suit at that moment instead of pondering on whether you were brave enough to imply you wanted to spend more time with him; preferably in your room, naked.

Fuck it. If he said no, you would say you had patrol either way.

“Do you want to co—“

“Yes,” he answered before you could finish the question, letting a relieved sigh out.

You pulled him into the apartment, arm around his neck as you used your other hand to close the door.

His lips fell on yours as he kissed you slowly, arms delicately around your plump form. He took his time to map your lips with his own, somewhat afraid of kissing you wrong.

Damian grew confident as you attempted to kiss him more firmly, as steadily as your giddiness allowed you to. Tasting the fruit he had eaten earlier off his tongue, you wrapped your other arm around his torso, bringing him closer.

Smiling on your lips, he angled his face, kissing you with the same urgency he had the other night.

Eagerly, he tangled his tongue with yours until both of you were panting in search of air. As you caught your breath, Damian fiddled with the ends of your turtleneck.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “Can I take this off? It’s getting in the way.”

“I can take it off—“

“I would like to do it, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” you assured him.

Damian slid the turtleneck off you slowly, huffing a small laugh when the blouse you were wearing under inched up. Placing the item to the side, he leaned to kiss your jaw.

Placing your hands on his sides, you slanted your head upon feeling his lips travel down to your neck.

He kissed the bite-mark left from before, softly, giving it small pecks. “Did I go overboard with this one?”

“A little bit. It’s been a pain in the ass to cover.”

“I’ll be more careful from now on,” he promised, leaving more light kisses over the area.

Your pulse quickened at the implication of his words. Damian felt the rush of blood on your jugular where he scattered wet kisses.

He trailed his lips up, breathing in your ear. You shuddered, fighting a whine as your hands looked for the hem of his crewneck sweater.

You inched the sweater up to his chest and waited for him to stand straight so you would be able to take it off. Damian was too busy kissing your face to care.

“Hey,” you did whine this time. “Damian, let me take it off.”

Smirking on your cheek, he hummed. Slowly, painfully so, he pulled away from you.

Once you had gotten rid of the sweater, you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. He curled his arm around you again, wanting you flush against him.

He slid his hand down and took a handful of your ass, making you buckle your hips up. Dragging his lips to your jaw again, he said, “Your stupid suit didn’t let me do that last time.”

One of your hands stayed on his shoulder while the other landed on his hip. Your fingers played with the loops of his jeans as he continued gripping and grabbing your ass like he had never touched one.

Angling your face, you attached your lips to his neck. Damian’s grip on you tightened.

“I want to take it slow,” he whispered, “but you’re making it really hard.”

“Metaphorically?” You mouthed his throat, hand sliding down to his chest, squeezing itself between both your bodies.

“And literally,” he whined. You loved the sound, for once not demanding yet still bratty.

As your hand slipped downward, you continued kissing his neck, paying special attention to the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You hoped your lipstick wouldn’t dirty his shirt — or maybe you hoped it would, both were fine with you.

Damian put some space between you, understanding what you were trying to do. While you undid his jeans, he undid yours, considering it would be better to get rid of everything on his way now that he was still feeling patient.

Shoes and socks off, the two of you shed your jeans without care of where they landed. Now the living room’s floor truly was covered in scattered items of clothing and this time Damian enjoyed the view.

“Come here.” He reached for you, eyes on your chest as his hands ghosted your sides.

You looked up at him, unable to hide the enjoyment you got from his hungry eyes being all over you. Following their movements, you also observed their slow dilatation.

He inched a hand up your side. You assumed he would finally knead your breast but he merely ghosted its outline, head tilted as he watched his own hand move.

For a few moments, he only did that, almost as if he was in a trance. The warmth of your own palm on his lower abdomen as your fingers brushed the elastic of his boxers made him react.

You pushed him back, towards your bedroom, pulling the door open and shoving him inside. He smiled, lifting his arms in mock surrender.

Damian sat down on your bed, relishing into the smell of everything you owned — the bedding smelled like a mix of fabric softener and your delicious new heady perfume.

You got the urge to kiss his entire face, hands on his shoulders as he slanted his head back for you to do it comfortably. He relished on the gesture too, so spontaneous and warming.

He placed his hands on the backs of your thighs, urging you to straddle him. Watching you second guess yourself, he drew you closer to encourage you.

Giving a last kiss to his nose, you complied. Damian snaked his arms around your waist, a pleased smile pressing against your chin before he kissed your mouth.

You bit his lip, tugging on it. He crashed his lips against yours again just to then do the same himself, intentionally bitting harder than you had.

A moan escaped you. Feeling his cock twitch under your navel, you rocked your hips to watch his reaction.

His arms tightened around you as he tutted against your core. “This is the reason why I never train with you,” he groaned.

“I thought it was because I almost broke Tim’s leg once.”

“Don’t mention anyone else right now.”

Right. You had forgotten he had been jealous earlier.

Damian rolled over, switching places with you. He kissed you before you could pout, cradling your face with one hand while he held himself up with the other.

You placed a hand on his upper back while the other rested on the side of his neck, kissing him back with the same amount of passion he was kissing you.

He had you breathless in a matter of seconds, and as he broke the kiss, you saw his nostrils flare in attempts to catch his breath quickly.

Trailing kisses down your neck, he dropped his hand to your breast. This time he kneaded it, humming against your skin when you reacted with a small sound. His thumb brushed your nipple, playing with it while he busied himself with leaving marks on your chest.

So much for being careful, huh. At least those were easier to hide.

“Do you want me to eat you out?” He asked bluntly.

“If you’re in the mood.”

He kneeled on the bed, hooking his thumbs in your panties to slide them down. You lifted your hips to help him out, laughing when he threw your underwear behind him with little care.

You opened your legs for him, finding a comfortable position as he stayed there, taking all of you in, completely naked and at his mercy.

He kissed your thighs first, teasingly nibbling on them. Every time he got closer to the center, to where now you needed him instead of only wanting him, he pulled away and went back to your thigh.

Slowly, he dragged his index finger up and down your folds. Damian rested his chin on your right thigh as he watched his finger collect and smear your wetness, proud of the fact that he was the one who had made you wet. No one else.

Your breath hitched in expectant excitement as you saw him finally bury his head between your thighs. His tongue followed the same path his finger had outlined, at the same rhythm.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he praised, licking his bottom lip clean.

As he gradually increased his rhythm, licking long stripes along your folds, you got bolder and urged him to be firmer by pushing your hips upward.

He moaned against your pussy, playfully sucking your labia to let you know he got the message.

Bringing an arm up to pin your hips back down, he used his other hand to open your legs a little bit more and part your labia.

Damian pressed his tongue on your clit, moving it gently at first. He wanted to know exactly what you liked and how. It didn’t take him long to switch between using his lips and his tongue which earned him a loud moan.

His hand caressed your thigh, eventually sliding between the mattress and your body to grab your asscheek.

You whined his name, reaching down to hold the back of his head. It was clear to you that he was enjoying every sound he managed to make you blurt, and it felt really good, but you needed more.

Out of nowhere, he tugged on your hips to slide you down the bed. Kneeling on the floor, he sucked fervently on your clit.

You fisted the duvet, begging him to keep going. Damian complied happily, mouth latched on your clit as your pussy swallowed his moans and the four walls of your bedroom made yours bounce.

They were music to his ears and his entire body. He could feel the tingling all over him, excitement and pride flowing through his bloodstream.

Massaging your ass, he couldn’t help but chuckle upon feeling both your hands on his head now. He allowed you to push his face farther in, not once slowing down.

Your hips bucked up and instead of restraining you, he moved with you. If you moved up he did down and vice versa. You got louder and he marveled at how responsive you were to him.

He growled, gripping your ass with force as he sucked on your clit until his cheeks were hollow. He let go only to repeat the motion, letting his tongue wander when he needed a break.

You tugged on his hair, squealing. Your body tensed in his grasp, prompting him to continue with his ministrations. Feeling the tremor in your legs as you tried to settle back down on the bed, he started lapping tenderly.

You caressed his hair, panting with your eyes closed. Damian lifted his head, hands softly dancing over your thighs as he stood up.

Feeling him hover over you, you opened your eyes albeit with a little difficulty. His mouth and chin glistened with your slick, wanton eyes inspecting your semblance.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you rasped before clearing your throat.

He caressed your sweaty cheek. “Later.”

“Bu—“

He shut you up with a kiss. “Later, please? I just want to be inside you.”

Nodding against him, you kissed him again. Tasting yourself off his tongue was addictive. You held him still for a moment, licking your slick off his gorgeous face.

Damian growled, deep and loud this time, hands already on your waist. “Should I wear a condom this time?”

“No. Unless you want to?”

He shook his head. He didn’t want a single thing to keep him from feeling you fully. Damian stood from the bed. “Get on all fours.”

You rolled on your side first to then do as he had told you, holding your breath as you waited for him to stand behind you.

He rested a hand on your hip. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” you gave him your consent.

Damian entered you slowly, little by little, less worried about hurting you and more about making you feel every inch of him as his cock filled you.

You breathed out through a whine. He gave you time to adjust to his size, leaning to kiss the scar on your back.

Wanting to stay like that forever, you waited more than you should have to. If he was aware, he decided to be patient — such thing only made you grow wetter.

“Go ahead,” you told him, hoping you didn’t sound too desperate.

Reaching over, he gripped your hands. “You feel amazing, beloved.” He kissed your shoulder, nibbling on your skin as he rocked his hips.

God, you didn’t know if his comment had been what flattered you or the pet name. Either way, hearing them was as amazing as the way he felt inside you, filling you like no one before him had.

His hands left yours. He opted for placing them firmly on your hips and thrust into you steadily, keeping you from moving too much.

Humming in pleasure, you held the edge of the bed in anticipation. He went faster exponentially, calculating every single one of his thrusts.

Having control over his thrusts and the movement of your hips was nice and all, but he needed you closer.

Slapping your thigh, he croaked out, “On your back.”

You missed his girth the second he parted from you so you could change positions, it made you feel empty.

Damian helped you get comfortable, holding your thighs open before you got the urge to rub them. He smirked when you glared at him, hand leaving one of your legs to hold his cock.

He penetrated you again, bottoming out immediately as he made himself comfortable on top of you.

“Fuck, Damian!”

His hips snapped forward involuntarily. Both of you moaned at the same time, he pushed against your g-spot and you throbbed around him.

His movements were rougher like this, wilder. It was as though he wanted to prove a point to himself, you didn’t know which and you didn’t care as long as he fucked you like he needed to be inside you in order to be complete.

“Say my name again,” he rasped the command.

And how could you deny him? You repeated his name as many times as your moans allowed you like a broken chant.

Damian’s pace got quicker every time he heard his name fall from your lips, a tad uneven as he allowed himself to get lost in the pleasure the mix of everything was bringing him — your walls gripping his cock, your hoarse moans and the angelic way honey dripped from your voice when you called for him.

You dragged your nails all over his back, moaning and whimpering in his ear. He was so loud in your own ear, saying things in Arabic that you couldn’t understand in such a fervent tone that you weren’t sure if you would come because he was fucking you into oblivion or because of his strained voice.

Hearing your name slip in his prayer-like monologue, you cried out upon feeling your stomach get tighter. You clung to his shoulders, letting him ram into you in unsteady thrusts that went from slow to hammering in seconds.

His tongue slipped, Damian started switching between languages. Grip on you tightening to the point of being bruising, he begged, “I need you to come first, please. I— shit.” He dropped his head into the crook of your neck as you wrapped your legs around his hips, clenching around him.

You threw your head back, arching up to meet his latest thrust as your orgasm flew through you. Distantly, you processed a few of the sounds you were making and some of the ones you were elating from him.

Strings of hot cum covered your walls. He growled on your skin, saying your name and something you couldn’t really understand.

You let him ride off his orgasm inside you, hearing the mess he was making as the wet sounds from your slick and his cum mingled. His mouth covered yours in a tired kiss, lazy and with a hint of the tenderness he had put to the side even though his intentions had been different.

Once the two of you had caught your breaths and he had made an even bigger mess, you pulled the bedding off the mattress and threw everything into the washing machine.

He was all over you as the two of you shared a shower, so close that scrubbing off took you way longer than it should have.

In all honesty, you didn’t mind. You were too happy to complain about his annoying little antics that you couldn’t wait to get used to.

”Should we suit up?” You asked him, watching the water drip down his chest like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“They can manage without us for a night.”

“You want to skip patrol?”

Drying his arms, he copied your tone, “You don’t want to spend more time alone with me?”

“Of course I do,” you replied immediately. “But you love patrol.”

He stood still, somewhat stiff in front of you. “Not enough, it seems.”

You dropped the topic at that and went on with drying your body.

He only put his underwear back on while you slipped a pair of panties and a t-shirt, awkwardly trying to find something to change the topic.

“Do you want some ice cream? I have a tub in the freezer.”

“Sounds good.”

A nice moment you shared, silently eating ice cream. He sat close to you the entire time, brushing your side.

It felt natural, as though you were supposed to be doing that and not anything else. Patrol could wait, and his family, and your friends, and the entire world.

The world stopped so you two could enjoy the moment, the day. Or perhaps it didn’t and you just couldn’t bring yourself to give this up for it — but he couldn’t either and that meant everything to you.

Damian never skipped patrol, he hadn’t done it in the worst moments of his life and you never expected to see the day in which he would find something more worthwhile.

You found a clean sheet for the bed in the laundry room which saved you from having to squeeze yourself with Damian on the couch. Maybe it was time to get a bigger one.

He rested his head on your stomach, cheek against your belly as he looked up at you. You could tell he wanted to say something, his brow was ever so slightly furrowed, and his eyes seemed clouded by a thought. He looked pretty nonetheless.

He traced his fingers over your thigh, drawing little doodles. You could make some up by feel — a flower, a bat, his name, a few stars, his name again, an R inside a circle, a heart, his name for the third time.

“I think I would’ve broken my oath to my father if you had had someone over.”

You slid your hand off his hair to caress his cheek, too worried to hide your frown. Damian took his promises and oaths seriously, more seriously than anything else. You had seen his family use said thing against him.

“It wouldn’t have been worth it,” you tried to reason with him. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Would you have gotten mad at me?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It would’ve depended on a lot of things. Without context, obviously, but...” Realizing you were about to make up excuses for something that hadn’t even happened, you decided to ask, “Why are you still thinking about that?”

“I don’t want you to forget about me. Ever.”

“Are you planning to say goodbye or something of sorts?”

“No!” He glared at you for even considering such a thing to be a possibility after everything the two of you had talked about, after everything you had made him feel. ”But I...” Damian scoffed. “I can’t explain to you how horrible it felt. My eyesight clouded the moment Stephanie said it was time for you to start seeing someone.”

“Jealousy does that to us.” You tried to sound wise by saying it, an attempt you found quite pointless as you replayed it in your head.

Silently, he lifted his head off your stomach in order to lay down next to you. Shifting so he would be comfortable, you held your head up with your hand to properly gaze at him.

Damian mirrored your position. He told you, in a hushed tone like it was his deepest secret, “I felt like you were replacing me.”

Stephanie only had said that because it was the truth. Your relationships always fizzled out after the first two months so you had stopped trying. Then there was the fact that Damian himself had sabotaged who knows how many of them...

From her perspective, it made sense.

“Damian...” you trailed off, in vain. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me you won’t.”

“I won’t replace you as long as you don’t replace me.”

You thought he would find the comment insulting even though it was perfectly sound. But for God knows which time that day, Damian surprised you by scoffing with nonchalance.

Dismissing your worry, he slid closer to you, resting his forehead against your flexed arm. “I couldn’t possibly be happy without your perfume all over me.”

Grabbing him by the hair, you forced him to lift his head. His eyes found yours in a second, curious. You dropped your hand to his neck, sliding it up to his cheek.

Giving him the sweetest kiss you had ever given, tracing the side of his gorgeous face tenderly, you hoped you were doing a good job expressing what you wanted to communicate.

You were. He gave you in return the brightest smile you had seen in your entire existence. It was all for you, something you had caused, something you wanted to see for the rest of your life.

Damian pulled you onto his chest, laying on his back. He mindlessly ran his fingers over your side and up and down your back while you listened to his steady heartbeat.

You couldn’t possibly feel complete without him ever again.

[kkusuka]

Y/n and either Ushijima, Suna or Sugawara ((I couldn’t decide so you pick 😫)) put paint on themselves and then fuck on a canvas to hang up in there house. Nobody would ever know that the art they were just admiring was made by Y/n and him having seggs 😂😂

✨Puppy🤩

i’m gonna do Toshi and Rin because i couldn’t think of something for suga, if i do i might post something for him bc i really like the prompt lol

ushijima wakatoshi <3

at times he hated the fact the collage required him to take an art class. he was there on a full scholarship for volleyball, not art.

most of the time he didn’t care all that much, he could draw and use the class pastels for an hour two days a week. and he was no Picasso but he was passing so that was all he could ask for.

well that’s what he thought until about an hour ago when he remembered that his midterm, what will be 40% of his semester grade, was due in the morning. it was fairly open, only had a few restrictions, it had to be on a 36’x48’ canvas and must have a single medium, he chose paint because it seemed easy at the time.

well now he was sitting in front on the white canvas, mind completely void of creative inspiration, and he had practice in two hours. making things about one-thousand times worse was that his social media was full of women painting their nudes, a trend he knew you had tried.

“toshi? you’ve been sitting there for forty-five minutes, are you ok?”

the idea hit him like a truck, his teacher said they could do whatever they wanted and that’s what he was going to do.

“y/n? will you help me out for a few minutes?” he inquired, drawing your body into the room.

you never really knew what ushijima was thinking, his stone cold facade didn’t spare you in times like this. though you could see the burning in his eyes as he waved you over where he had gotten sky blue and violet cans of paint.

without a word, you watched had he began to tug your sweats down your legs.

“whoa! what are you doing?” he just picked up some of the paint before looking up to you.

“i’m going to fuck you on it.” his stated as if he was talking about ordering lunch. not waiting for your reply he smeared the blue onto the front of your thighs along your full legs.

“take of your shirt.” doing what he said he immediately began rubbing the paint onto your stomach, throughly coating your breasts, twisting your nipples and the skin underneath, all the way up to the base of your neck.

he turn you by your waist, pressing your body to the canvas that was hanging along the wall.

you would ask him if this was appropriate, but you didn’t have a chance before he was opening your folds and pushing his tip int your cunt.

“you’re wet already? all i’ve done was put paint on you, are you that much of an unstable whore?” his words and how unfazed he sounded sent another wave of heat down your walls. snapping his hips to your sent you furthers into the now colors portion of your art.

“toshi, not— not to hard-“ a smack to your ass accompanied with a harsh thrust your your cervix shut you up.

his dick was carving its was into your walls, you’d been dating for years but he made you feel like a virgin.

you were never out that the weight of his thrusts would rip the canvas, you worries thrown from your mind as his dick hit the sweet spot in your depths, squirting your cum into his thighs. halting his thrusts you felt a cold, wet substance drip over you back. you felt the pads of his fingers rub it all over your back before moving his hands to your hips, giving you a glimpse of the blue coating his palms.

“you don’t think we’re done do you?” he mocked, pulling you off his for a split second before pressing your back to your masterpiece, the blue joining your mess of purple, “i haven’t cum yet so out painting is not completed.”

suna rintarou <3

“there you go messy slut! go ahead rub those pretty tits on the board,” suna’s mocking words were accompanied with a flick of your clit, “you want everyone to know what we did on this don’t you?”

he had brought up the idea after seeing something like it on instagram, but he really just wanted physical proof that he was the best fuck you’ll ever get.

“rin-ri- i, please!”

“oh baby, this is going to look so pretty. i’m gonna hang it in our living room so everyone can see it! they’ll have no idea but whenever you see it you’ll remember how i fucked you dumb.” he sneered, pushing your torso further into the canvas.

his cock plunged in and out of your hole garnered with the wet slaps of skin. grabbing your hair to pull your head back he forced you to look at him as you came around his cock, him following in suit.

•••

“that’s a really cool painting where’d y’all get it?”

oh aran, why did you have to ask in a room full of people? you had decorations handing all around your house and he asks about the one thing you can’t explain without stuttering.

“me and y/n made it together, right? it was so much fun.” suna chimed from across the room where he was speaking with kita and osamu.

“yeah honey, we did!” you smiled, faking a laugh while observing the multiple disruption in the paint from where you had dropped wetness onto the board.

•

tags: @bakugos-cumsock

[ppangjae]

SUN&MOON | Jaehyun

SUMMARY. Asking Jeong Jaehyun to accompany you to your family’s 1-week Christmas vacation as your boyfriend has its consequences. One can surely get through 1 week of pretending to be in love with an enemy, right? 

GENRE. enemies to lovers!au | fake dating!au | tooth-rotting fluff | angst

WORD COUNT. 14.6k+ words (someone stop me)

playlist. sun and moon by sam kim | sun&moon by nct 127 | D (half moon) by dean

author’s note. i’ve always wondered how ‘ordinary people’ would be if the situation was switched and yn needed someone to be their fake boyfriend. but you know that i love making things messy and so i decided to add the enemies to lovers trope. have fun reading and no, you don’t need to read ordinary people before this fic! merry christmas? merry chrysler? merry crimmus?

disclaimer. you do not need to read ordinary people before reading this fic! this fic is made in a different universe and time, so consider this fic separate from ordinary people!

warnings. swearing!

taglist: @yasmini24 @jungjxxhyun @softieus @justineasian @chantellsievert @jaehyunnie77 @princessaecha @je0ngjaehyun @joyfuljaehyun @fluffyjaes @icelandicboo @chalcopyright @ethaeriyeol​ @svchengss​ @yourmagnanimousholiness​ @127-jaehyun​ @theunluckylistenermusician​ @mangotexts​ @daydreamerblues​ 

Even when we’re not looking at the same sky, we stay together like the SUN&MOON.

“If I’m the dumb of dumb and dumber, then that means you’re the dumber.”

It’s unfortunate that you couldn’t agree any more with your best friend, Jungwoo, who’s setting up the projector in his living room. The projector turns on after twenty straight minutes of Jungwoo just smacking the top of it, as if it would do anything. Projected onto the off-white walls of his apartment is a PowerPoint presentation and to your surprise, it’s not a presentation about how you’re the dumber one out of the two of you. Instead, it’s a PowerPoint presentation about—

“Five reasons why Jeong Jaehyun should be the fake boyfriend you’ll bring home for Christmas.”

“Turn that shit off before I rip your hair off your scalp—”

“Listen, hear me out.” Jungwoo cuts you off, pressing the button on his clicker to move on to the next presentation slide. The next slide shows a very dorky picture of Jaehyun sticking two fingers up his nostrils and you assume that it’s some sort of blackmail that Jungwoo uses. “Reason number one, he is a handsome and smooth motherfucker and I’m sure your parents will be very impressed.”

“Jungwoo, I hope you know that no matter what, I will not ask Jaehyun to pretend to be my boyfriend—”

“Reason number two,” Jungwoo ignores you, moving on to the next presentation slide. The slide shows a picture of all the boys in your circle of friends. Johnny, Sicheng, Jungwoo, Mark, and Jaehyun. Jungwoo points at each one of them. “Johnny is in a relationship, which means that he’s not an option. Sicheng is also in a relationship and he’s planning on proposing on Christmas Eve, not only is he booked and busy this Christmas, but he’s also not an option.”

“Jungwoo, you’re not dating anyone. You can pretend to be my boyfriend instead.” You suggest and Jungwoo clicks his tongue, shaking his head in reply. “What? Why not?”

“Do you think your parents would believe that I, Kim Jungwoo, so happens to be not only your childhood best friend but your boyfriend too?” Your face turns blank. He has a point. He smirks. “Exactly. That’s what I thought. Now, Mark has a crush on your younger sister, so I don’t think it would be ideal for him to be your fake boyfriend when he should be shooting his shot on your sister this Christmas.”

“He needs my approval first—”

“That’s not the point.” Jungwoo cuts you off, pointing the laser of his clicker to the wall, specifically at Jaehyun’s face. He circles the laser around Jaehyun’s face and begins to grin. “The point is that Jaehyun is your only option. Jaehyun’s single, he’s good looking, and it wouldn’t be suspicious to your parents.”

“Reason number three, Yeri and Haechan would definitely approve of Jaehyun.” Jungwoo explains. 

“What makes you so sure about that?”

“Because Jaehyun is easily likeable, it would be odd if Yeri and Haechan didn’t like him.” He reasons.

“Do I look convinced?” You ask. 

Jungwoo stares at you. He blinks before shrugging his shoulders. “I say you kind of do. Now, reason number four!”

The next slide shows a poorly-cropped photo of you and Jaehyun standing next to each other. You let out a snort, biting your lip and covering your mouth to stop yourself from bursting out into laughter. You’re appreciative of Jungwoo’s effort, but—

“Reason number four, you both surprisingly look good together. I think you guys suit each other, if I were to be quite honest. The only problem here is that you both hate each other with a lively passion.” Jungwoo shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t give me that look, Y/N—”

“Okay, fine!” You raise up your hands in defeat. Jungwoo grins. “Does it look like I actually have a choice? I swear I have the worst luck—”

“You do—”

“Everyone of you is taken and my parents would have to be extremely gullible if you pretended to be my boyfriend. That leaves me no one but Jaehyun, who’s unfortunately single and the only one that seems more convincing.” You sigh with defeat. You fall back against Jungwoo’s leather couch, kicking the air out of frustration and stress. “That’s problem number one of two. Problem number two is—”

“So, you’re actually going to ask him—”

“—how the fuck am I going to ask Jeong Jaehyun to be my fake boyfriend for one week?”

“Are you on crack or something?”

“Stop laughing at me, you fucker.” 

Jaehyun’s playing with his chain bracelet, a smug grin plastered on his face. Oh, how you wish you could wipe that grin off his face. Fine, as much as you hate to admit it, Jaehyun does look good. He looks good in his oversized hoodie with his hair gelled back and a few of its strands framing his slim face. But that’s not the point, the point is is that—

“No.” 

“No?” You repeat his answer. He raises an eyebrow questioningly. “Wait, did you just say no?”

He nods his head, clasping his hands together and smirks. “Why? Did you want me to say yes?”

You let out a scoff of disbelief. “Does it look like I want to do this? With you, specifically?”

“I mean,” he shrugs his shoulders. “You could’ve just simply said that you had a budding crush on me just like how you did when we were fifteen instead of going through the long route and asking me to be your fake boyfriend for your one-week holiday vacation with your family.”

“Why, you little—”

“Calm yourselves before you start clawing each other’s faces, holy shit.” Jungwoo arrives at the table booth with a tray of your orders. Jungwoo slides into the seat next to you, handing the both of you your burgers, fries, and drinks. You and Jaehyun are having an intense glaring competition. “Stop eye-fucking each other it’s making me feel uncomfortable.”

“We’re not.” The both of you say in unison. “Shut up.”

“You irritate me.” You roll your eyes, opening the wrapper of your burger and taking one big bite. Jaehyun looks at you with disgust, mumbling a few curses underneath his breath before taking his first bite. “And for the record, I do not have a budding crush on you. What happened when we were fifteen was just a joke. You just so happen to be the single one out of the guys and I just so happen to forget telling my parents that Taehyung and I broke up—”

“And you just so happen to think that I would easily say yes?” Jaehyun dips a french fry into ketchup. Before shoving the french fry into his mouth, he sticks his tongue out at you. “Try harder, Y/N. I’m not going to do it.”

“Fine,” you snap. “It’s not like I wanted you to do it anyways.”

“But you still tried—”

“Fuck this shit and fuck you,” you grumble, nudging Jungwoo to make room for you to leave. Jungwoo looks at you then back at Jaehyun. You’re too pissed off to notice Jungwoo give Jaehyun a warning look. “I’m out. I’ll just ask someone else, maybe Yukhei or Yuta. I’m sure one of them would be nice and kind enough to help me out for just one goddamn week.”

Jaehyun’s presence is enough to ruin your day. This is a living example. You huff out a breath, realizing that you have to ask for a takeout bag for your burger and fries. Cursing underneath your breath, you begin to head to the front cashier counter to ask for a—

“What’s in it for me, then?”

You stop in your tracks. You have your back facing the two of them. You slowly turn around. “If I give you something in return, would you do it?”

Jaehyun shrugs his shoulders. “It depends on what you’re giving me.”

You frown. “I’ll do your laundry for a year—”

“Y/N will get you that vintage LP turntable that you wanted.” Jungwoo cuts you off. You’re about to protest but Jungwoo gives you a look that silences you. “Even the records you wanted.” (**vintage marantz 6200 turntable)

It’s terrifying how you could see a fire igniting in Jaehyun’s eyes. The corners of his lips slowly move up to reach his ears. He slowly places his burger down. 

“Fine, I’ll do it. When do we start pretending?”

“I told you to pack one luggage, not three.”

Jungwoo looks at you through the rearview mirror. It’s been five minutes since the three of you hit the road and an argument has already begun to ensue. Jaehyun, however, seems unfazed by it. In fact, he’s too distracted by the beautiful snowflakes falling from the sky and falling onto the ground to form a fluffy blanket. Just by the argument that’s about to start in the back of the car, Jungwoo’s worried that the one-week plan might fall through the cracks.

“You told me to pack a week’s worth of clothes.” Jaehyun tears his gaze away from the view outside of the window to look at you. To his surprise, you’re already looking at him. With your pierced gaze, it catches him off guard, but he plays it off by letting out a scoff. 

“And a week’s worth of clothes just so happens to fit in not one but three luggages?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Well,” Jungwoo cuts into the argument, his darting between the two of you through his rearview mirror. He gulps nervously. “If you count the winter coat, the shoes, and everything else, one luggage actually isn’t enough—”

“Don’t take his side.” You whine. You fold your arms. “Well then, how come I managed to fit a week’s worth of clothes into one luggage?”

Jaehyun eyes you up and down before gesturing your clothes. “Maybe it’s because you have a poor sense of style—”

“I do not!” You exclaim. He purses his lips into a tight line, looking away from you. You let out a frustrating sigh. “God, I can’t believe I’m spending a week with you.”

“If I were you, I’d watch it with the snarky remarks.” Jaehyun warns you. “The moment I get ticked off, I can simply just tell your parents the truth.”

You look at him with wide eyes. You feel threatened. “Oh, you would not do that.”

“Oh, yes I could and I would.” Jaehyun squints his eyes at you. 

“Are you threatening me?”

“Yes.”

From the rearview mirror, Jungwoo watches you pout in defeat. You’re looking away from Jaehyun, turning your body towards the opposite direction. Jungwoo, however, catches Jaehyun spare you a gaze that lasts longer than it should before his lips form into a soft smile. 

“Jaehyun, one point. Y/N, zero points.”

“Shut the fuck up and focus on the road, Jungwoo.”

There’s a sole reason as to why you and Jaehyun have bad blood. Ridiculous as it sounds, Jaehyun has been categorized as three different things throughout your entire life. Childhood friend, crush, and enemy. There was a time where you and Jaehyun were childhood friends. You’d always be attached at the hip. Whatever was yours was his and vice versa. But things began to take a sharp turn when you started liking him.

You started liking Jaehyun at the innocent age of fifteen. It was the year where you and the group would go on overnight camp trips. Jaehyun had just come back from studying in America for a year. You remember seeing Jaehyun stepping out of his mother’s Mercedes-Benz in nothing but a loose basketball t-shirt and jean shorts and thinking, wow, I think I’m in love with him. Things haven’t been the same since.

The switch up of him being the love of your life to your enemy happened on the last night of your camping trip. The group had decided to get a dip in the lake while you and Jaehyun stayed back to set up the bonfire. It was your only chance to tell him, you remember convincing yourself. You planned it out carefully, where you would confess to him and if he returned the same feelings, you’d date. But if he didn’t feel the same way, you both had the brutal option to shove memories of that year’s camping trip into the back of your mind, not to be dug up again. It was stupid of you to think that the former would happen instead of the latter.

Ever since then, just the thought of you crushing on Jaehyun made your blood boil. You wish it never happened. You wish you never saw Jaehyun in a different light. You wish your heart never skipped a beat too many when you liked Jaehyun. 

You wish you never liked him.

“We’re here, kids.”

It takes a harsh shove for you to wake up. Your eyes shoot open and your hands ball up into fists as you prepare to fight someone. Fight or flight response. As your eyes meet Jaehyun, he glares at you. Jungwoo watches the both of you from the driver’s seat. 

“Your head’s incredibly heavy, did you know that?” Jaehyun complains after pushing your head off of his shoulder, getting out of the car. You scoff, grumbling underneath your breath as you get out of the car. The door slams shut. Jungwoo smiles at the cute interaction.

As you step out of the car, you feel yourself shiver from the chilly breeze that hits against your cheeks. Your instinct is to warm up your cheeks with your knitted gloves. Jaehyun’s pulling out your things from the trunk. It’s not long until you hear a loud screech a couple of metres away. You’re closing the trunk as Jaehyun sets down the last luggage and someone jumps over you, almost making you stumble over. You let out a yelp, looking over your shoulder to see Yeri on your back. You let out a scream.

“You said you weren’t coming home for Christmas! What are you doing here?” You exclaim, pulling your younger sister into a tight embrace. Yeri giggles, wrapping her arms around you as she snuggles into your warmth. 

“Of course, it was a lie. I wanted to surprise you and Taehyung—you’re not Taehyung.” She pulls away from the hug and looks up at Jaehyun. She looks at the both of you with confusion. She points at him. “You’re not Taehyung. Y/N, are you sure you brought the right guy home for Christmas?”

You and Jaehyun share a look. Get into your act, Jaehyun reminds himself and he immediately straightens his posture. He extends his hand out to Yeri and Yeri raises an eyebrow. “Hi, I’m Jaehyun. We’ve met before you studied abroad but I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend—”

“Boyfriend?” Yeri blurts out. She looks at you in shock. “Since when did you drop Taehyung so fast?”

You let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of your neck. Somehow, it’s difficult to come up with an answer but before you could at least utter out a word—

“It’s getting quite cold outside, shall we head in?” Jaehyun suggests, throwing his arm around your shoulder. You’re too bothered by your thoughts of your ex-boyfriend to even notice that Jaehyun’s doing skinship with you. “Babe?”

Babe? You snap out of it. You look up at him. “R-Right, it’s getting cold. Let’s head inside.”

Yeri stares at the two of you and grins. “Well, I’m happy you dropped Taehyung. I never liked him for you anyway. It seems like Jaehyun’s a better suit for you, but I’ll have to find that out myself. Welcome home, Y/N. And Jaehyun, make yourself at home.”

Jaehyun’s not sure why Yeri’s words send a shiver down his spine. As your younger sister is the first one to head back into the cabin, the both of you glance at each other. You push Jaehyun’s arm off your shoulder, scrunching your nose in disgust, and pulling out the handle of your luggage. “Let’s head inside, it’s freezing.”

“Y/N, if we’re going to pretend like we’re dating, at least make it look real.” Jaehyun mutters.

“Sorry, I was just caught off guard about—” You begin before stopping yourself. You bite your lip. “Let’s just head inside, we wouldn’t want everyone waiting for us at the dinner table, especially my parents.”

Jaehyun purses his lips into a line. About what? He turns around to look at Jungwoo. Jungwoo’s too intimidated by what had just gone down and he’s not sure if he could handle it any longer. “Thanks for the ride, Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo looks at Jaehyun nervously. “Make sure you guys kick ass with this fake relationship because from what had just happened now, I’m not sure if the act will last long.”

“Oh, we will.” Jaehyun shoves his hands into his pockets. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You better.”

The moment your parents looked at Jaehyun from across the dining table, you just knew. Your mom is the first to set her spoon and fork down onto the table, tilting her head in confusion before looking at you with a slightly questioning gaze. Mustering up a smile, you shrug your shoulders, glancing at Jaehyun who’s sitting next to you on your right. Jaehyun, however, has been great with putting up the act. He has the fakest smile spread across his lips and his body is tensed up. You’re too busy trying to stop yourself from breaking out into a teasing smile, but you fail at doing so. Jaehyun places his hand on top of yours, gently rubbing the top of your hand with the pad of his thumb. Your smile grows wider when you notice how moist and sweaty Jaehyun’s hands are.

He’s nervous, you think to yourself. Maybe you could get used to this, where Jaehyun is a nervous mess in front of your parents who look intimidating—but are definitely far from it. 

Your dad’s reaction comes a bit later than your mom’s. He’s looking up from his plate and he chokes on his food when his eyes land on Jaehyun. “Wait, you’re not Taehyung.”

Jaehyun chuckles nervously, nodding his head. He sucks in a breath. “I’m Jaehyun, Y/N’s boyfriend. I’m not sure if you remember me but Y/N and I went to the same high school and—”

“Ah! That’s right! I knew you looked familiar.” Your mom exclaims. Jaehyun suddenly feels nervous under your mom’s gaze and he sets his spoon and fork down to engage in the conversation. Your mom glances at you. “Y/N, sweetie, I think you need some explaining to do. I wish you told me sooner that you and Taehyung weren’t dating anymore because I assumed you were still together and I even bought him a Christmas present—”

“We broke up, mom.” You bite your lip, shoving a spoonful of soup into your mouth. You’re avoiding your mom’s gaze, but from your periphery, you can see Jaehyun looking at you. “We broke up three months ago. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I could still give Taehyung your present—”

“Oh, no, you don’t need to, sweetheart.” Your mother shakes her head. She looks at Jaehyun apologetically. “I’m sorry, Jaehyun, I probably made things a bit awkward.”

Jaehyun tears his gaze away from you. He smiles. “No worries.”

Yeri clears her throat. “Jaehyun, are you worried that you might be my sister’s rebound—”

“Yeri.” You glare at her as you hiss. “Please—”

Your words are cut short when Jaehyun squeezes your hand. You glance at him and his face softens. He looks at your sister. “I’m not worried at all. Sure, we’ve been dating for only two months. Sure, Y/N had just gotten out of a relationship. Sure, her wounds are still fresh. But asking your sister to give me a chance was my choice, and just the fact that your sister gave me a chance tells me that she’s ready to move on.”

For a brief moment, Jaehyun looks like he’s being sincere about his words. It feels so real, almost like he’s telling the truth. If you were someone else, you’d definitely believe him. He’s being too creative with this act, and you definitely have to reward him some brownie points for the effort. 

You don’t notice the small smile forming on your lips. Jaehyun’s eyes meet yours and he mirrors your smile. “Right, Y/N?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Right.”

Your dad lets out a light-hearted chuckle. “I think you both suit each other. I see a difference in my daughter’s aura, Jaehyun, it must be because of you. When Taehyung spent the Christmas holidays with us, Y/N looked completely different.”

“Is that a good sign?” Jaehyun jokes.

“Yes.” Your dad flashes him a warm smile. “Kudos to you, it means you’re doing a perfect job.”

Jaehyun’s smile falters.

It means you’re doing a perfect job.

A perfect job of acting. This isn’t real. 

The first day of the holiday vacation is a trip to the Christmas Market. Every year, you and your family spend the first day of the holiday vacation at the Christmas Market for a variety of things. It could be an opportunity to pick out gifts for your Secret Santa, it could be an opportunity where your parents will visit the grocery shop to get groceries for the Christmas Eve dinner, or it could simply be an opportunity to shop around for yourself and have fun. 

It’s also the day where your cousin Haechan and his family will move into the cabin for the week. The cabin is always busy and full of joy when both your family and Haechan’s family are there. It’s what makes the holiday vacation much more special. It’s sort of like Midas touch.

“Please remember that we parked right in front of the Gingerbread House because you know that I’ll forget.” Your dad commands the moment all of you hop out of the SUV.

Jaehyun looks at the hustle and bustle of the Christmas Market. He’s amused and fascinated by all the dimly-lit lights scattered all over the market. To set the Christmas mood, it’s lightly snowing and all Jaehyun could smell is hot chocolate from the cafe a couple of metres away. “This is…”

“Amazing?” You look up at him.

He nods his head. “Yeah… amazing.”

As all of you reach the entrance gates of the Christmas Market, everyone begins to split ways, leaving you and Jaehyun behind. You remove your hand from Jaehyun’s. “Well, I’m going to go shop around for my Secret Santa. You can go and do whatever you want for the meantime, unless you want to join me—”

“Let me join you—”

“Ew.” You scrunch up your nose in disgust. “Fine, do whatever you want, I guess.”

Jaehyun reaches down to grab your hand and you raise an eyebrow. He shrugs his shoulders. “You never know, we might bump into them in the shops and they’ll wonder why we’re not holding hands.”

“Do we always have to hold hands?” You question. “I’m sure holding hands is not a mandatory requirement for couples. Besides, your hands are disgustingly sweaty.”

Jaehyun lets go of your hand and looks at it. “Are they?”

You snort. “Let’s go before they start wondering why we’re just standing here doing nothing.”

He fails to notice that you’re already walking away from him because he’s too distracted by his ‘sweaty’ hands. He grumbles angrily underneath his breath, ready to protest only to see that you’re no longer standing in front of him. He looks up to see you already a couple of metres away. He wipes his hands on the sides of his jeans and begins to jog up to you.

“Wait! Hold my hand! Y/N! They’re not sweaty anymore!”

You hear him calling out to you and it only makes you smile and let out a bubbly giggle.

“Are you my Secret Santa?”

Yeri jumps at your voice, completely startled. You burst out into laughter. She frowns at you and folds her arms. You and Jaehyun had so happened to bump into Yeri at the jewelry shop. It’s been at least an hour and a half since you started shopping for your Secret Santa and you still haven’t gotten anything. You figured that a stop at the jewelry shop will help you out. 

“I’m not,” Yeri mumbles. “I got Haechan this year.”

“And how do I know that you’re not lying?”

The jeweler comes back to the counter with a beautiful Louis Vuitton necklace. You lean closer to Yeri to get a better look of the necklace. Yeri turns the LV pendant around to reveal an engraved ‘H’ on the back. You let out a sad sigh. “I told you. I’m Haechan’s Secret Santa this year. Believe me now?”

“I’m kind of disappointed that you’re not my Secret Santa this year. You always go out with the gifts and I’d be more than grateful to receive a beautiful necklace like this.” You sigh again. “It’s alright. You still need to give me a birthday gift anyways.”

“Your birthday is in March.” Yeri snorts. 

“Anyways, I’ll continue shopping. Don’t make your pockets hurt too much, alright? You got textbooks to buy when you go back to university once the Christmas break is over.”

She groans. “Don’t even remind me.”

You laugh. Before you’re walking away, a familiar necklace catches your eye. You look down at the glass counter to stare at the necklace. It’s the Louis Vuitton silver lockit that you’ve always wanted to buy. Your smile is replaced with a frown. You shrug off your sad thoughts before moving on to another glass cabinet of chain bracelets.

Jaehyun observes you as you walk away. He walks closer to the counter, looking down at the necklace you were just looking at. Yeri nudges him and he glances at her.

“You know, Y/N’s always wanted that necklace, but I’m not sure if she wants it anymore.” Yeri whispers quietly. “She told Taehyung that the moment she saw that necklace, she dreamt of having it. They were  six years into their relationship when Y/N found out that the woman Taehyung was seeing behind her back was given the exact same necklace.”

“Taehyung cheated—” Jaehyun stops himself. He looks over his shoulder to see you standing on the other side of the room, talking to the jeweler about a few sets of chain bracelets. You don’t look as happy as you were a while ago. He frowns, looking back down at the necklace. 

“I’m sure Y/N never told you about that,” Yeri mumbles. “That’s because I’m the only person that knows. But since you seem to be a good guy for my sister, I figured it would be safe to tell you.”

“Why do you trust me so much?” Jaehyun asks.

Yeri shrugs her shoulders. “I guess it’s because my sister would never replace the man she loved so much with someone else this fast. But she did, and that could only mean that you must be very special to her.”

But I’m not. I’m not special. Jaehyun thinks to himself. He purses his lips into a tight line. “I see. Thank you for putting so much trust in me. You barely even know me.”

“No problem.” She beams at him. “Anyways, you’re being a bit too obvious.”

“Me? Being a bit too obvious? About what?”

“About being Y/N’s Secret Santa.”

“Well… shit.”

The cabin becomes more lively the moment Haechan and his family enters. Haechan immediately rushes to his usual room which is right across from Yeri’s. The two of them are like two peas in a pod, either always bickering over the smallest things or having late-night conversations in the cabin’s basement. There’s no in between. They’re truly cousins. 

“Who just ran past?” Jaehyun asks you. You’re busy stirring up two cups of hot chocolate. One for you and the other for— “Hey, thanks for the hot chocolate—”

“Haechan, get here before your hot chocolate gets cold!” You yell, turning around and leaving Jaehyun in the kitchen to meet Haechan halfway. 

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here—who the flipping heck are you?” Jaehyun looks past your shoulder to see who he assumes is your cousin Haechan. Haechan gently grabs his mug of hot chocolate from you and takes a quick sip. 

“Me?” Jaehyun points to himself.

“No, the dude standing behind you—of course, I’m talking to you.” Haechan quirks an eyebrow. Well, what a sassy cousin. No wonder you’re both related, Jaehyun thinks to himself. “Hi, I’m Haechan, Y/N’s cousin. You probably already know that.”

“I’m Jaehyun,” he introduces himself. “Y/N’s boyfriend.”

“What?” Haechan blurts out. “I thought—weren’t you dating—I am completely and utterly confused. You have some explaining to do, Y/N. You dropped Taehyung pretty fast. I am also Taehyung’s Secret Santa, now how the fuck am I going to give him his present?”

“Exactly what Yeri said, no wonder the both of you get along so well.” You roll your eyes. “About Taehyung’s gift, just leave it with me and I’ll give it to him for you—”

Haechan squints his eyes at the two of you with suspicion. “I’m getting the vibe that you guys aren’t really dating but are just putting up an act—”

“We’re not.” You both cut him off in unison.

“Huh, well,” Haechan grins. “It’s just surprising to see that you’ve moved on from a long relationship with Taehyung that fast. You replaced him really quickly. I wonder why.”

Jaehyun wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Things just happen. It was nice meeting you, Haechan.”

“I guess this Christmas holiday will be spicier and messier than I thought.” Haechan smirks. “It was nice meeting you too, Jaehyun.”

Haechan saw right through the two of you and that alone sends shivers down your spine. Just as he’s about to head back to his room with his hot chocolate, you reach out for the ends of his sleeve, tugging him back. He looks at you questioningly.

“Yes, Y/N, my beloved cousin?”

“Don’t tell anyone.” You beg.

“Y/N—” Jaehyun’s eyes widen.

“I fucking knew it!” Haechan exclaims before Jaehyun reaches out to cover his mouth with his hand. Haechan glares at Jaehyun, licking his hand. Jaehyun yelps, wiping his hand against the side of his pants with a look of disgust. 

“Haechan, please don’t tell mom, dad, or Yeri. You are the only one that knows about this. If you tell them then we’re—”

“Screwed? Yeah, I know.” Haechan chuckles. He pats your shoulder. “No worries. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Promise?” Jaehyun squints his eyes at him.

Haechan glances at him. “I promise. But, what’s in it for me?”

“I’ll get you the PS5—”

“I’ll get you those speakers you wanted—”

“PS5?” Haechan’s eyes widen like saucers. 

You bite your lip, looking at Jaehyun. You mumble, “you’re making the biggest mistake right now, Jaehyun—”

“Deal. Your not-so-real boyfriend will be getting me a PS5 in exchange for keeping your not-so-fake secret.” Haechan puts his hands up as if he’s going to preach. “I give you both the family’s blessing.”

You playfully punch him in the stomach, and he bends over in response. He groans. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Go unpack your things before Jaehyun changes his mind.”

Haechan obliges to your order, leaving the both of you in the kitchen before looking over his shoulder. His eyes meet Jaehyun’s and he smiles. “Welcome to the family, Jaehyun. I think I’m starting to like you already. Not for my cousin, but you get it.”

“How the fuck am I going to get your cousin a PS5?”

It’s the second day of your Christmas holiday, and you find yourself lying against the snow. It snowed a good twenty centimetres overnight and Haechan dragged you out of bed just to make snow angels before it gets shovelled away. Fortunately enough, it’s still snowing and the pretty sight of snowflakes falling from the sky brings a bright smile to your face. Haechan lets out a happy sigh.

“So, why did you do it?”

You look to your right. Haechan’s not looking back at you, he’s looking up at the sky. You raise an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“Your fake relationship.” Haechan clarifies, finally looking at you. “Why did you do it? I mean, you could’ve simply told your parents that you and Taehyung broke up instead of bringing Jaehyun into this mess.”

You give yourself some time to come up with an explanation because surprisingly, you didn’t have one. Well, you did have one, but now that Haechan’s confronting you about it, you suddenly think your reasoning is stupid. 

You shrug your shoulders. “I just didn’t want to disappoint my parents.”

“You didn’t want to disappoint your parents?” Haechan asks.

You hum in reply. “Taehyung and I dated for six years. That’s a long time. My parents adored him. When we broke up, I was devastated. Six years of dating down the drain. I guess I just didn’t want my parents to see me look like a mess over him.”

“And so you asked Jaehyun to pretend to be your boyfriend for the annual Christmas holiday?” You nod your head. Haechan purses his lips into a tight line and nods his head understandingly. “I get where you’re coming from.”

“I figured it would be better for my parents to know that although Taehyung and I broke up, there’s still someone out there who stepped in to take care of me.” You add with much hesitation. “It would be better for them to know that than seeing how horrible I am because of the breakup and how I haven’t been taking care of myself properly.” 

“Well, you should give your fake boyfriend some credit for putting in so much effort to pull such an act in front of your parents.” Haechan says. “For a week too.”

Haechan’s right. No matter how much you hate Jaehyun, you must consider the fact that Jaehyun decided to help you out. He could’ve simply neglected you—like he always does—and made you embarrass yourself in front of your parents. He could’ve just flat out not help you at all. But he did. 

Somehow, it makes you wonder. Why? If it’s so simple for Jaehyun to not help you at all, why did he end up helping you anyway? There must be a catch, aside from the vintage turntable you have to get him in return. There’s definitely a deeper reason as to why Jaehyun’s doing this for you.

“You guys are up really early.”

You and Haechan sit up from the snow to see Jaehyun standing at the door. He has a hot, steaming cup of coffee and it looks like he had just gotten out of bed. Haechan waves him over. “Finish your coffee and join us out here!”

“I think I’ll pass—”

“It snowed?!” Jaehyun’s cut off by your younger sister, Yeri, who pushes past him. She steps out onto the porch and extends her arms out to catch snowflakes in her bare hands. She smiles. “Don’t move! I’m putting on my jacket and I’ll join you.”

She hurriedly rushes inside, zooming past Jaehyun. Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow. His gaze is focused on you. You’re bursting out into laughter after throwing a snowball at Haechan’s face. He’s in the midst of rolling up a snowball only to get hit in the face by another one. “Hey!”

You stick your tongue out. “You snooze, you lose.”

Jaehyun smiles. “On second thought, I think I’ll join.”

And so he does. He sets his cup of coffee down and lets it run cold. In a couple of minutes, he finds himself lying next to you on the snow. He’s looking up at the sky, snowflakes getting caught in his long eyelashes. You sit up, looking down at him. You fall into his line of sight and he can’t help but notice how pretty you look. Your lips are itching to smile.

“You have long eyelashes,” you point out. 

He nods his head. “You noticed.”

“And,” you mumble, getting lost underneath his gaze. “Your ears are really red.”

“Huh? No, they’re not—”

“They are—”

“They’re not—”

“They are—oof!”

You gasp, immediately wiping snow off your face. Jaehyun bursts out into a cackle. “I can’t believe you didn’t expect that to happen!”

You frown. “It was bound to. You’re going to pay for this!”

Haechan and Yeri watch you and Jaehyun chase each other out on the front lawn that’s covered in snow. You’re both chasing each other with snowballs, throwing them at each other when the opportunity is there. Yeri lets out a happy sigh.

“They look happy together, huh?” Yeri asks.

Haechan nods. “They do. Your sister looks different from last Christmas.”

“Yeah, you could tell her and Taehyung weren’t doing so great.” Yeri agrees. “I kind of knew they were going to break up eventually. Taehyung looked like he had already fallen out of love and was just trying to find the right opportunity to end things with her. But now, she looks happy. Happier, I mean.”

“With him?” Haechan questions.

“She looks happier with him,” Yeri smiles proudly. “She also looks like she’s been set free.”

Haechan purses his lips into a tight line, letting out a sigh that Yeri can’t tell if it was a happy or sad sigh. He falls back against the snow, muttering to himself. “Oh boy, this isn’t going to end well.”

“Did you say something?”

“Me? No, nothing at all.”

The fireplace is the only thing keeping you warm in the surprisingly cold living room. You’re sitting right in front of it with a fresh mug of hot chocolate for good measure. Everyone’s sound asleep in their rooms, but you somehow can’t seem to fall asleep. Placing your mug onto the coffee stand, you pull your knees to your chest and you rest your chin on top of your knees. 

“You’re still awake?”

You look over your shoulder to spot Jaehyun standing at the doorway. He looks like he had just woken up from his deep slumber. He’s rubbing the sleep from his eyes and trudges his way towards you. You look up at him, nodding your head. “I can’t sleep.”

“You know, I’m sure your parents are wondering why we’re sleeping in different rooms.” Jaehyun suddenly brings up. 

You scoff. “I am not sleeping in the same bed with you—”

“We don’t have to. I’ll just take the couch and you can sleep on the bed.” Jaehyun shrugs his shoulders, pointing at your mug of hot chocolate. “I’ll take the couch if you make me a cup of hot chocolate.”

“Why are you even awake?”

Jaehyun clamps his mouth shut. He scratches the back of his neck. “I noticed your door was open and I was wondering if you were still awake.”

You smirk. “You were concerned about me? How sweet.”

“Shut up.” He grumbles. “Go make me a cup of hot chocolate.”

You smile evilly. “No.”

Jaehyun’s too tired to bicker with you. He ends up occupying the empty spot right next to you in front of the fireplace. He hears you let out a sigh. “Do you think your parents believe it?”

“Believe what?”

He looks at you as if you’re stupid. “That we’re dating.”

“Oh,” you laugh. “I guess? My mom hasn’t spoken to me about you yet. Well, aside from that time she told me how much she liked you—”

“Your mom likes me?” He asks. “For you?”

You frown. “Unfortunately.”

“Admit it, I am the best person to take home for Christmas.” Jaehyun says with a smug grin.

You roll your eyes. “It was so peaceful before you joined me. Do you mind just going back to sleep and leaving me alone?”

“Fine, fine, fine, I’ll just shut up.” Jaehyun gives up, settling his gaze back to the fire. 

It’s silent for a couple of minutes. There are so many things running through your head. You’re not sure where to start. Heck, you’re not even sure if you’ll ever stop thinking too much about the past. Jaehyun seems to notice how silent you’ve gotten. He shifts his gaze and stares at you. You have a distant look. Your eyes seem to sparkle, captivating him. He could see the gears shifting in your head.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Jaehyun clears his throat. “Why did you and Taehyung break up?”

You look at him with a broken gaze and it’s enough for Jaehyun’s heart to ache. You’re surely not over him. In fact, you look far from it. But he couldn’t blame you, you and Taehyung dated for six years. Six years of memories with someone special isn’t something to forget about so easily. 

You laugh it off, but your teary eyes tell something else. “He cheated on me.”

“That…” Jaehyun trails off. “Sucks.”

You stare at him with raised eyebrows before bursting out into laughter. “That’s your reaction? That… sucks?”

“Well, I think Taehyung lost someone special.” Jaehyun says, avoiding your gaze. He looks at the fire, a smile threatening to spread across his lips. “I’m sure he regrets it now. If not now, he’ll surely regret it later on.”

“You see, the Jaehyun I’m talking to right now is much more pleasant.” You bite back a smile. “Why can’t you just be nice, like a decent person?”

“Look, this isn’t a one-way thing. Why can’t you just be nice either?” He asks and immediately, you’re both back to enemies. 

It falls silent again. 

“But, do you really think so?” 

“Think about what?”

“That Taehyung lost someone special?” You whisper. 

Jaehyun meets your eyes. Your eyes aren’t as glassy anymore. In fact, they look a bit more hopeful, a bit more happier. It makes his heart beat a beat too many. 

“I know so.”

When my MOON rises, your SUN rises as well, under the same sky.

You’re almost halfway through your Christmas holiday with your parents and you can’t wait to go home. You can’t wait to go back to your normal, Jaehyun-free life. You’re sure Jaehyun can’t wait either. Your eyes flutter open and you’re immediately blinded by the sunlight peeking through the blinds. You let out a yawn, slowly sitting up on your bed and stretching your arms out. 

Your arms drop when you feel an arm wrapped around your waist. Your eyes slightly widen. Glancing to your left, you see Jaehyun fast asleep. Tucking strands of your hair behind your ear, an idea pops into your head. With a mischievous grin, you quietly grab your phone from the bedside table, going to your phone camera. You slowly hold up your phone in front of Jaehyun’s face. His lips are slightly parted open and he lets out a snore that sounds like the honk of a car. 

“This is perfect blackmail.”

Just as you’re about to take a picture, Jaehyun’s eyes flutter open and widen when he realizes that you’re attempting to take a picture of him— “Give me that!”

You let out a yelp. He grabs your phone and you use all of your willpower to tug your phone away from him. It’s a game of tug-of-war with your phone. Jaehyun’s much stronger and he yanks your phone with all of his might, causing you to fall on top of him. Your hands are pressed against his chest and he’s got his eyes clenched shut. You tilt your head in confusion, why are his eyes—

He peeps one eye open. “Why are your eyes closed?”

His other eye opens. “My eyes weren’t—I had something in my eye.”

“Yeah?” You grin. “Then why are your ears red again?”

“They’re not red—” 

“They are!” You exclaim, pointing at them as you move off of him. Out of instinct, he covers his ears with his freakishly large hands. 

“They’re not.”

You raise up your hands in defeat. “Fine.”

He slowly uncovers his ears that are still red. “Good morning, I guess—”

“Y/N! Jaehyun! The skating rink opened! Let’s go before it gets crowded!”

“Time to get out of bed, Jungwoo, stop worrying.” Jungwoo tells himself, slapping his cheeks and getting up from bed. 

All week, he’s been worrying about you and Jaehyun. Things could either work out really well, or it’ll all crash and burn. He shrugs off his thoughts, finally getting out of bed to make himself some breakfast. As he trudges his way to the kitchen, he stops in his tracks when he spots his projector still sitting on the coffee table. 

“How could I forget to put that away?” Jungwoo scolds himself, walking over to the coffee table. He opens  his laptop to disconnect the projector, only to stop. 

The PowerPoint he made specifically for you is still open on his laptop. He had probably gotten a bit too drunk from the beer you both had that night and forgot all about it. He goes through the PowerPoint and stops at one particular slide, a soft smile spreading across his lips.

Although he forgot all about the projector and his laptop, there’s one thing he remembers from that night. 

“I guess she’ll never know what reason number five is.”

“You don’t know how to skate?”

Jaehyun stands near the board, holding onto the railings for his dear life. It’s a funny sight, in fact, it has you doubling over in laughter. Haechan and Yeri had already ventured off, skating with each other on the ice, bickering like the cousins they are, and making each other trip because concussions are the sweetest revenge. You’re stuck with Jaehyun near the boards, waiting for him to gain the courage to push himself onto the ice.

“It’s not that bad, Jaehyun.” You reassure him. You hesitatingly extend your arm out to him. “In fact, if you trust me enough, let me teach you.”

“You’re not going to make me fall on my face, are you?” He squints his eyes at you with suspicion.

“I mean, I could,” you shrug your shoulders. “But I’m not that evil.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I mean, I trusted you enough to help me and pretend to be my boyfriend in front of my family. You could’ve just sabotaged my plan and embarrassed me instead.” You answer.

You had a point. He lets out a sigh, grabbing your hand. Funny thing is that Jaehyun’s hand doesn’t feel sweaty this time around. It feels soft, warm, and perfect in yours. It’s like your hands were meant to hold each other. You begin to skate slowly and you could feel Jaehyun’s reluctance. 

“Just trust me, Jaehyun.”

“I’m trying—”

“Then try harder, doofus!”

“Okay, Jesus—oof!”

Jaehyun slips, completely making a fool out of himself. The way he falls looks extremely embarrassing and there are a couple of kids laughing at him. You frown, looking down at him. He sighs, his back falling against the ice. Suddenly, Jaehyun sees you fake a fall, falling down right next to him. 

“Did you just—”

“Fake a fall? For you? Yes.” You cut him off. “Just go with it.”

“Wait, why?” He chuckles.

“Because your fall is giving me second-hand embarrassment.” You mumble. “Now, let’s get back up and start again. I’m sure you’ll get a hang of it soon.”

And so you both start again. Jaehyun’s hand absentmindedly reaches out to grab yours, interlocking his fingers with yours. At first, you help Jaehyun skate by skating backwards and bringing him along with you. It takes him a couple of falls and trips, but it’s not long until he’s almost getting the hang of it. 

“I told you, it’s not that bad.” You smile.

“I think I can do it.” Jaehyun says softly.

“Do you think so?” You question.

He slowly nods his head. “I might as well try.”

“Alright, I’ll be standing over there. I want you to skate to me.” You point towards one of the corners a couple of metres away. You glance at Jaehyun. “Are you sure you could do it?”

“Let me try.” He insists.

Before you skate off, you let go of Jaehyun’s hand. The warmth of your hand immediately vanishes, and suddenly, Jaehyun feels like he’s missing something. He stares at your back as you skate away. When you turn around to face him, he quickly shifts his gaze away from you. You open your arms, gesturing for him to begin skating over. He sucks in a deep breath and begins to skate over, slowly but surely. You find Jaehyun quite adorable and it makes you start to smile.

Jaehyun looks up from the ice to look at you. You’re smiling at him. But the smile you have on is a different smile. It’s bright, so bright that it blinds him. Your smile feels so foreign, yet so familiar. It’s so familiar that it reminds him of the time when you were both fifteen. It reminds him of the moment you confessed your crush on him. It’s so foreign that it’s been ages since he last saw a smile like that on your face. He’s not sure if Taehyung made you smile that way. He could feel his heart shrivel up, time slow down, and all he could think about are the ways he could make you smile like that forever—

“Oh!”

Jaehyun falls, his butt landing on the ice with a soft thud. You gasp, your mouth hanging open in shock. The both of you just stare at each other in surprise before you’re the first one to break it. You wheeze out into laughter, bending over as you continue to laugh at him. Jaehyun’s too absorbed by your adorable laughter that rings in your ears that it makes him start to laugh with you. 

From a couple of metres away, Haechan slows down and watches the both of you laugh. Jaehyun’s sitting on the ice and you’re bending over, laughing so hard that even Haechan can hear it. 

“This is surely not going to end well.”

On the fourth day, you’re all rummaging through the cabinets for recipe ingredients. Apparently Haechan still thinks Santa exists and so now you’re all spiralling into a mess trying to bake Santa a batch of cookies. Yeri slams the bag of flour onto the countertop and sighs. Jaehyun’s busy mixing the butter, brown sugar, and white sugar in a bowl. You’re greasing the pans and preheating the oven. 

“You know, Santa doesn’t exist—”

“Shut up, Jaehyun!” Haechan gives Jaehyun a warning look. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Jaehyun wipes the sweat off his forehead and glances at you. You’re putting a couple cups of flour into the bowl. A smile slowly occupies his lips when he notices your dusty hair that’s covered in flour. His eyes trail down towards your face, his smile widening, there are some traces of flour on your cheeks. You wipe your cheek, only to make it worse.

He’s itching to wipe the flour off your cheeks, but why does he suddenly feel shy and hesitant to do it? The both of you are supposed to act like a couple. At first, it was so easy for him to pretend to be your boyfriend. But why did it suddenly become difficult? When did it suddenly become difficult?

“Why are you looking at me, love?” Jaehyun snaps out of his trance, caught red-handed. 

He shakes his head, still smiling. “Nothing.”

“You’ve got flour on your face, dumb dumb.” Haechan points at your cheek. 

“I do?” You ask, your hands immediately reaching for your cheeks until—

Jaehyun gently wipes the flour off of your cheeks. His eyes are focused on your cheeks that are heating up with embarrassment. He looks… handsome—

“Thanks.” You stop yourself from thinking too much. 

This is all fake. Remember that.

Jaehyun looks at you with an expression you can’t read. He gives you a genuine smile.

“No problem, love.”

“Jaehyun, do you mind checking up on the cookies?” 

Haechan wakes Jaehyun up from his nap. All it takes is a light nudge and a couple of pokes to the cheek for him to get up from the couch. He looks out the window and surprisingly, it’s snowing. Jaehyun stretches his arms out, slowly getting up from the couch. He trudges his way to the kitchen to find you washing the dishes. He’s about to call out your name, but he stops himself. You’re humming to yourself, rinsing the dishes underneath the water. As you place the clean dishes onto the dish rack, you walk over towards the oven to check up on the cookies.

You squat down, looking through the window to see the cookies almost done baking. Suddenly, you see someone squat down next to you from your peripheral vision. You make the biggest mistake of turning your head. Jaehyun’s already looking back at you, his face inches away from yours. You could feel your heartbeat pick up its pace. 

You clear your throat, quickly looking away from him and acting as if nothing had happened. You point at the cookies. “I think they’re almost done. Let’s give it a couple more minutes—”

“You’re pretty.”

You slowly meet his gaze, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “S-Sorry?”

Jaehyun snaps out of it. “I said, you look like a piggie.”

You scoff, pushing his shoulders. He falls back onto the hardwood floors with a soft thud, glaring at you. You roll your eyes, getting up from your squat position to get back to dishwashing. 

“Piggie, my ass.” You grumble underneath your breath.

You’re scared. You’ve never felt this scared.

The last time Jaehyun ever made your heart race was when you were fifteen. He should not be letting your heart race like that again.

But it is.

“I can’t believe it’s already Christmas Eve.”

“I’m happy this week is almost over.”

You and Jaehyun are in the bathroom, brushing your teeth. He finishes first, wiping his mouth with a face towel and throwing it in your face. You yell at him, grabbing the towel and throwing it at his back. “I’m glad I don’t have to romantically associate myself with you after this.”

Jaehyun raises his hands up. “Surprise, surprise, me too. Two more days of this shit and I’ll finally be free. Don’t forget that vintage turntable you promised me—”

“I never break my promises—”

“I didn’t say that—”

“But you were implying it—”

“Babe, I’ll be downstairs to help set up the dining table for breakfast.” There’s a sudden change in Jaehyun’s voice, making you straighten up your posture. It happens out of instinct. You clear your throat, stepping out of the bathroom to see your mother entering the bedroom.

“Mom, hey,” you greet her nervously, scratching the back of your neck. “Did you need something?”

She shakes her head, a small smile on her lips and she makes herself comfortable on the edge of your bed. You awkwardly stand in front of the bathroom, fiddling with your fingers, a bad habit of yours that you can’t seem to drop. Jaehyun picks up your mannerism and slowly exits the bedroom to leave the two of you alone. Why was this making him feel nervous? Did your mother see through the two of you?

“I just wanted to check up on you,” she says softly. “About you and Taehyung.”

You bite your lip. “I don’t think there’s much to say about Taehyung and I—”

“Why didn’t you tell me that the both of you broke up?” She asks with concern. “Were you afraid that we would be worried about you?”

You slowly nod your head in reply. “I was terrified.”

“Well, you can always tell me anything. You know that.” She reminds you.

You let out a soft sigh. You’re so close to telling your mom the truth. That this whole relationship with Jaehyun is a lie, that it’s a front to keep them from feeling disappointed in you. That Jaehyun is merely just an enemy, someone far from your boyfriend. But you bite your tongue to stop yourself.

“Taehyung cheated on me,” you whisper. Scratch that, it barely comes out above a whisper. Your mom is silent. You bite your lip. “I know. I reacted the same way.”

“How long? When did you find out?” She questions. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. He doesn’t deserve you.”

Then, who does? Who deserves you? Do you deserve to be loved? The thought makes your eyes water, but you blink them away before your mom notices. You can’t look weak in front of her, she will only see right through you. 

“I found out a year and a couple of months before we broke up.” You answer and your voice almost cracks. “He’s been seeing her for a while. I mean, we’ve been dating for six years and I found out he started seeing her when we were four years in.”

“Are you okay?” She asks. “Will you be okay?”

You purse your lips into a tight line. “I hope so. I mean, Jaehyun’s been too good to me and sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve it—”

“From the looks of it, Jaehyun’s keeping you happy.” Your mom smiles. “But what makes me sad are the times you came home with Taehyung for Christmas and acted like everything between the both of you was alright, when you knew that he was seeing someone else.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.” You whisper.

She shakes your head. “You’ll never disappoint me, Y/N. I will always be proud of you.”

The tears flow down so easily. Your mom pulls you into an embrace and gives you gentle, soothing rubs on the back. You warm up to her embrace, snuggling into her neck and letting out a sigh of relief. 

“Besides, I think Jaehyun is doing a pretty good job at helping you move on. You look different to how you looked when you were with Taehyung. There’s something more brighter and prettier about your smile that you have on whenever you’re with Jaehyun.” Your mom explains.

“You think so?”

She smiles. 

“Yes, I do.”

The four of you sit in front of the fire, all sporting the same pair of red, plaid pajamas and ugly sweaters. There are four presents sitting right in front of you, waiting to be given out. It was Haechan’s idea to stay up until midnight, where it’d officially be Christmas Day and you could open your Secret Santa gifts. Patience is such a virtue, and Haechan clearly doesn’t have it. 

“I can’t believe the week is almost over.”

Haechan doesn’t get a single word from any of you. You’re a bit tipsy to find the right words to say to him. The Christmas Eve dinner was eventful but you can’t seem to stop thinking about how Jaehyun looked at you from across the dining table. There’s something different about the way he looks at you now, and it bothers you.

You feel a slight nudge. You glance to your side to meet Jaehyun’s gaze. “What?”

“Do you remember when you first confessed to me?” 

You scoff, covering it up with a cough in case Yeri picks up your sudden change in attitude. You say through gritted teeth, “Of course I do, babe. Do you remember?”

Jaehyun’s close to chuckling. He tears his gaze away from you and stares at the fire. It reminds him of that night at the campsite, where the both of you were setting up the bonfire. He remembers finding you really pretty and adorable that night, and he was itching to tell you. But he couldn’t do it. He remembers hearing you call out his name with a soft voice, how his heart skipped a beat. You were looking up at him with hopeful eyes. And then you confessed to him.

“Of course I do,” he mumbles with a shy smile on his lips. “How could I ever forget?”

You’re staring at him a bit too much. The small smile on his lips kind of throws you off. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. It comes out as a whisper. “What do you mean?”

It seems he has heard you because he shrugs his shoulders. “What do you think I mean?”

You’re tipsy. “You’re being extremely confusing, Jaehyun.”

When Jaehyun finds the courage to look at you, you almost let out a soft gasp. The way he looks at you is the same way he looked at you that night at the campsite. It terrifies you. You look away from him.

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret what?”

“Confessing to me that night.” He clarifies for you.

You purse your lips into a tight line. “A huge part of me does, but that’s only because you rejected me.”

“I did not reject your confession.” 

You scoff. “Yeah, because flat out saying ‘I don’t return the same feelings as you.’ isn’t considered a rejection.”

“Would you ever,” he begins to ask, but he stops himself. 

“Would I ever, what?”

“Would you ever fall in love with someone like me?” He questions. “No, would you ever like me? Again?”

You’re definitely drunk.

“If you weren’t so much of an annoying brat, I would.”

“You would?”

“Sure. Maybe in a heartbeat.”

And in a heartbeat, Jaehyun finds himself feeling terrified because the feelings that he forced himself not to feel anymore don’t seem to leave, but instead grow stronger. Why did he have to be in love with you? Why is he such a coward? A fool? He’s not sure. But being in love with you is the best thing he’s ever done, and if being in love with you was a mistake… it would be his most beautiful mistake that he’s ever made.

And a beautiful mistake you truly are, when he carefully holds your face in his large hands, when he watches your eyes flutter shut as he leans in, when your lips are inches away from each other, when he kisses you out on the porch underneath the snowflakes falling from the sky.

As you both pull away, time that felt frozen had gone back to normal and the images that remain stuck in his mind is the look of confusion you had given him and the J necklace he gifted you that’s wrapped around your neck. 

“I have another gift for you, Y/N.”

“What is it?” You ask softly. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I had to, I was your Secret Santa, right?” He pulls out another box from his pocket and hands it to you. He sucks in a deep breath. “I hope you like it.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, eyes trailing down to the box into your hands. You gently open the box and you could feel your breath getting caught in your throat.

It’s the silver lockit you’ve always wanted but never got. 

The only difference is that you’re not sure if you wanted it after finding out Taehyung cheated on you.

Jungwoo pulls up to the cottage with an empty trunk and free hugs. You and Jaehyun step out of the cottage, not uttering a single word to each other since that night out on the porch. You didn’t care if your parents noticed that distance you both had in between each other, you were too lost in your thoughts and feelings. The moment Jungwoo spots the two of you out on the porch, he feels his heart stop. Something surely happened between the two of you. 

“You better have that PS5 ready. I kept this relationship under wraps for a whole week.” Haechan whispers into Jaehyun’s ear when he puts him into a headlock. 

Jaehyun shoves him away. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“You’re leaving soon?” You ask Haechan. 

He shakes his head. “We’re gonna stay back with your family for the rest of the day. We’re leaving tomorrow morning. I kind of wish you guys stayed just a little bit longer.”

“I was only able to book a week off from work. Sorry, Haechan.” You frown. The both of you hug. “It was nice seeing you again after so long. Study hard, alright? If a girl breaks your heart, just let me know who I have to fight.”

And soon enough, you’re both heading towards Jungwoo. Your parents are waving you goodbye from the porch and Jungwoo starts driving down the road. Jungwoo looks at the both of you through the rearview mirror, wincing when Jaehyun’s lips part to start a conversation, but you quickly look away from him and out the window to avoid it. 

What happened, exactly?

“Thanks for the ride, Jungwoo.” 

With the slam of a trunk, you meet Jaehyun’s eyes and purse your lips into a tight line. You fake a smile. “Thanks for helping me, Jaehyun. I really appreciate it. I’ll get you your vintage LP turntable as soon as—”

“You don’t need to get it anymore,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “I was kidding anyways.”

“Alright,” you mumble. “I’ll get going. I’m sure the both of you are tired from the trip—”

Jaehyun feels his heart clench. “Can we—Can we talk?”

Jungwoo bites his lip nervously. You look at Jungwoo from over your shoulder with a questioning gaze. He gestures for you to take your time and he swore he saw you grimace. You smile at Jaehyun, but Jaehyun knows it’s not genuine. “Sure.”

Jaehyun helps you bring your luggage inside of your apartment, placing them right near the door. You stand a few metres away from the door, giving him some space to stand at least a metre away from you. He clears his throat. “So—”

“What is it that you wanted to talk about?” 

He clamps his mouth shut. He feels his hands grow sweaty. “I wanted to talk about last night and why it seems as if you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you, Jaehyun—”

“You are.” Jaehyun cuts you off. “I know you are, but could you at least tell me why?”

“I don’t think we should.” You bite your lip.

He frowns. “Is it because of the necklace?”

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “No, it’s not because of the necklace—”

“So, it is because of the necklace—”

“Fine. It is because of the necklace. You want to talk about it? Fine.” You let out a frustrated sigh. “Why did you think that this would be a good idea? To give me a necklace that does nothing but remind me of my cheating ex? Right after you kissed me, too?”

“I thought it would give you closure—”

“Closure?!” You let out a bitter laugh. “For what?”

“Because Taehyung is holding you back. Your relationship with him is holding you back. You need to move on, Y/N. Taehyung is not coming back for you—” He begins to explain.

“I’ve established that fact the moment he left me for her. Besides, my relationships are none of your business. On top of that, why do you care so much? This is my life, not yours—”

“Maybe I care so much because—because I—” His heart hurts so much.

“Don’t you dare finish your sentence. I’m sick and tired of your jokes, Jaehyun. Y/N this and Y/N that. Budding crush here and embarrassing crush there. Whatever happened when we were fifteen will remain in the past. I liked you, you didn’t like me back and rejected me—” You look broken.

“Wait, what?” He looks at you with confusion. “I didn’t reject you. In fact, when you confessed to me that night, I was on top of the world because I returned the same feelings—fuck, I still do—”

“You laughed at me when I told you that I liked you—”

“And then you took it the wrong way. Months after that summer, I was figuring out why you were avoiding me, why you were ignoring me, why we suddenly became strangers, only to find out that you’re dating Taehyung—” You look at him incredulously.

“Is that why you decided to help me? Because I look like some charity case, huh? Because you felt bad that my six-year relationship ended with a third party? Or you just wanted to have fun and laugh at me for being so weak? For being the poor little girl who got left behind because her stupid little boyfriend got bored of her? Or you just—”

“You’re not a charity case and you never will be—”

“Then, why?! Why are you helping me? Why do you care so much—” You yell out with frustration.

“Because I’m in love with you, Y/N. I’ve always been in love with you, but you were always running away. And I was always trying to chase after you. I still am. I figured helping you do this for your parents would give me a chance to—” He confesses.

“What? A chance for me to start liking you again? To fall in love with you again?” You mumble. You shake your head. “You had your chance when we were fifteen, Jaehyun. It’s been six years.”

“Y/N—”

“You had many chances. You’re nothing but a coward and a fool.” You point at the door. “Now, please leave. I’ve had enough of this.”

“I—” He begins before he cuts himself off. “Fine, I’ll leave. Whatever suits you, I guess.”

You watch him breathlessly as he steps out of your apartment and slams the door behind him. You flinch at the sound, breaking down completely when you sit on the hardwood floors of your apartment. Jaehyun lets out a sigh, hearing you start to cry from outside your door. He fights himself from knocking on your door to comfort you, but he figures he’s the reason why you’re crying.

As he steps out of the building, Jungwoo frowns upon spotting him. 

Something surely did happen.

And it’s surely not good.

That half-full MOON looks just like me right now. Nothing comes even close to having half of you. If only I had just half of you. If only.

Two months later…

“I have a delivery for Jeong Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun looks at the delivery man with confusion. He tilts his head, signing the papers before getting a huge box placed into his arms. “I don’t remember ordering anything but… thank you.”

With disheveled hair and wrinkled clothes, his half-awake self places the box onto the table. He rummages through the drawers in his kitchen for a knife to open the box after struggling to open it with his bare hands. He opens the box and immediately spots a small envelope sitting right on top of an LP turntable. He almost drops the knife out of shock. With shaky hands, he grabs the envelope and traces the handwritten letters that spell out your name.

He carefully pulls out the card and reads what you’ve written in it. Suddenly, he finds himself grabbing his coat from the coat rack and rushing out the door.

A notification pops up on your phone. 

You grab your phone, continuing to brush your teeth. You let out a snort when you hear Jungwoo singing and talking to himself in the kitchen. When you unlock your phone to read the notification, you feel your heart skip a beat. 

Order delivered. Thank you for shopping with us!

You step out of the bathroom after brushing your teeth. “Hey, Jungwoo?”

Jungwoo is in the midst of flipping a pancake, looking over his shoulder. “Oh, you’re awake? Do you need something?”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t need anything. I just wanted to ask if Jaehyun knows that I…”

“Moved out? Moved in with me?” Jungwoo finishes your sentence and you hesitatingly nod. He shakes his head, looking away from you to finish cooking the pancake before burning his fourth one. “No, he doesn’t know. I figured you didn’t want him to know.”

“Ah, I see.” You mumble. 

He stops. “Wait, why’d you ask?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. Hey, do you mind if I use your laptop for something? I just need to clear out my father’s emails. You know him, he always forgets to do it and thinks it’s my responsibility to do it.”

He nods his head. “Yeah, go for it. You don’t even need to ask.”

As you step into your bedroom, you log into your father’s email, only to realize you’ve forgotten the password. You sigh, typing in all the possible passwords from the top of your head, failing to log in successfully. Your last resort is to call your mother to ask for the password.

“And how could I help my lovely daughter on this fine morning?”

“Stop being cringey, mom.” You roll your eyes. 

“Hi, sweetheart. What’s up?” She chuckles. 

“What’s dad’s password to his email? I’m trying to clean out his inbox again. You know, it’s a monthly thing I do for him. I should get more credit.” 

“Alright, the password is your birthday and Jaehyun’s name in capital letters. Funny how your father decided to use that as his password after he needed to renew it during our holiday vacation.” Your mother says and you fall silent. “Speaking of Jaehyun, how are you guys?”

You’re typing in the password and it works. You let out a chuckle. You begin to lie. “Uh… we’re doing alright. It's his birthday tomorrow, actually.”

“Did you get him something?”

You hum in reply. “I did.”

“What did you get him?” You smile.

“Something he always wanted. Something he told me not to get.” You reply, opening a PowerPoint document your father’s client had emailed him. When you open the PowerPoint, you notice another presentation opened on the application. “Sorry, mother, I think I have to call you later.”

“Alright, talk to you soon.”

You toss your phone to the side, clicking on the familiar PowerPoint presentation opened. It pulls up right in front of your eyes and you let out an airy laugh.

Five reasons why Jeong Jaehyun should be the fake boyfriend you’ll bring home for Christmas.

Reason #1: He is a handsome and smooth motherfucker and I’m sure your parents will be very impressed.

There are many times you’ve been left speechless and struck by how charming Jaehyun is. Well, you did have a crush on him when you were fifteen and your parents seemed very convinced when you brought him home for Christmas. 

Reason #2: Johnny is in a relationship, Sicheng is in a relationship and Mark has a crush on your sister. Jungwoo is too obvious and not an option. This makes Jaehyun the perfect candidate.

Jaehyun surely was the perfect candidate. It was almost as if he was meant to pretend to be your boyfriend. It felt so meant to be that a small part of you wished that it was real, but you were too hung up on your last relationship to even notice. 

Reason #3: Yeri and Haechan would definitely approve of Jaehyun.

They both really adored and loved Jaehyun. It’s a huge difference between the awkwardness they felt when you were with Taehyung, especially when you introduced him to them.

Reason #4: You both look good together. You both suit each other. The only problem is that you both hate each other with a lively passion.

From time to time, you would look at the group pictures you took on Christmas Eve in front of the Christmas tree. You would do it to try and imagine a better person standing next to Jaehyun instead of you, simply because you knew you didn’t deserve someone like him. He’s just too good to be true. 

You click onto the next PowerPoint slide and your breath hitches in your throat.

Reason #5: Jaehyun’s in love with you. You just don’t know that he is. But I, Kim Jungwoo, knows. Why and how, you ask? He told me. In fact, Jaehyun’s been in love with you for the longest time… ever since the both of you were fifteen.

You shut the laptop, tossing it to the side and grabbing your phone. It’s almost as if your feet had a mind of its own, dragging you out of your bedroom and straight towards the door. You’re grabbing your coat and keys as you head out without warning—

“Hey, where are you going? We still have to eat breakfast—and she’s gone.” Jungwoo lets out a sigh, looking down at all the pancakes he made and all the burnt ones he placed on another separate plate. He sighs again. “I guess that leaves me with all of these pancakes to eat.”

“Y/N—you are not Y/N.”

An old lady stands at the door, looking at him questioningly. She blinks once and twice before her eyebrows raise. “Ah! Are you looking for Y/N? The beautiful young lady who lived here before me?”

Jaehyun slowly nods his head. “Y-Yes, I’m looking for Y/N.”

The old lady folds her arms. “Well, I could tell you where she is because I know where she moved in. But I’m not sure if I could trust you enough to tell you. Who are you, exactly? And how are you related to her?”

Jaehyun bites his lip. “I’m her… boyfriend. No, ex-boyfriend—actually, I’m not quite sure—”

“Ah, so you’re the guy she was talking about? The coward? The fool?”

Jaehyun smiles sheepishly. “I—I guess that’s me, yes.”

She chuckles. “Alright, Jaehyun—”

“You know my name?”

“Yes, now listen to me carefully before I forget telling you.” She commands. “She moved out a couple of months ago to move in with her best friend. She left me instructions, actually. She told me that if a handsome man shows up at the door and introduces himself as Jaehyun, I must tell him that he’s a coward and a fool.”

He scoffs. “What is with her?”

“But,” she smiles. “She also asked me if I could tell him where she moved in case he looks for her. She said she’s sure it’s not going to happen, but she asked me to do this favour for her just in case it does.”

“T-Thank you,” he whispers. 

“Now, I’m sure you know which best friend she lives with. But before you leave, I want you to remember one thing.” She continues. “Before you find her, go and grab her some flowers. When you finally find her, don’t chicken out and tell her exactly how you feel. I’m not sure why she calls you a coward and a fool, but if it’s because you weren’t true with your feelings to her, then use this as your second chance.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “I’ll make sure of that.”

She shoos him away. “Now, get going. You might catch her on time.”

And Jaehyun follows her advice. On his way to Jungwoo’s apartment, he drops by a flower shop. He picks up a bouquet of white lilies and pink daisies. He rushes out of the flower shop and starts sprinting to Jungwoo’s apartment a couple of blocks away. 

As he reaches the apartment building, he presses the button for the elevator. When the elevator doors open, he almost rushes into someone until—

“Jaehyun?”

You’re looking at Jaehyun. You both look out of breath. You gawk at him with shock that you barely utter a word except for his name. Jaehyun snaps out of it, walking into the elevator and you back up, your back gently pressed against the wall. You watch him as he presses the buttons to all 20 floors of the apartment building before closing the elevator doors. 

“What are you doing—”

“For you.” He hands you a bouquet of lilies and daisies. You awkwardly take the flowers from him. 

“T-Thanks.” You whisper, losing confidence just because you’re not sure what to expect from him. 

You both face yourselves away from each other. As you reach the second floor, Jaehyun closes the doors right when they open. He scratches the back of his neck. 

“So, when did you move out?”

You bite your lip. “Two months ago.”

He hums in reply. Another awkward silence fills the atmosphere. 

“How have you been?” You both ask in unison before smiling sheepishly. You shyly look away from him. 

“I’ve been great. But I could be doing better.” He says softly. “With you.”

You look up at him. He’s already looking at you. “I assume the old grandma told you where I moved.”

He slowly nods his head. “Yeah.”

“Ah, I see.” You say softly. 

The elevator reaches the third floor. The doors open and Jaehyun closes them immediately. You bite your lip. “Look, Jaehyun—”

“You know, I’m still in love with you.” He confesses again. “I mean, I always have. It’s not like I can force myself to stop being in love with you because I tried and it’s impossible to do and so—”

“Jaehyun, you’re rambling.”

“Am I?” He laughs nervously, looking away from you. “Sorry, I do that when I’m nervous and I’m really nervous right now.”

“Did you get the—”

“The LP turntable?” Jaehyun asks and you nod your head. “Yeah, I did. I got it this morning. T-Thanks.”

You smile. “No problem—”

“You remembered.” He mumbles. “I didn’t think you would remember. I didn’t even think you would get me one either, but you did.”

“How could I forget?”

Another awkward silence. Fourth floor, same routine. The doors open and Jaehyun closes them. 

“Y/N, please say something because I feel really nervous right now and I’m not sure if you’re mad at me or if you’re sad or if you just really don’t want to talk to me and if you don’t, that’s completely fine, just tell me and I’ll hop off on the next floor—”

“I’m not mad at you, Jaehyun. I mean, if I am, I would be the one getting off the elevator right now.” You cut off his ramble. “And you’re rambling again.”

“Sorry, it’s a bad habit.” He apologizes. “So, you’re not mad at me?”

“How could I be mad at you?” You chuckle. “Besides, I feel nervous standing next to you right now. It reminds me of how I felt when I was about to confess to you when we were fifteen.”

Fifth floor. “O-Oh? Really?”

You reach out to press the button to close the doors. “Yeah.”

“Well, as I was saying, I’m still in love with you, Y/N. You don’t have to return the same feelings. I just felt like telling you would clear things up. You can forget about me after this, but I just didn’t want you to remember me as the fool and the coward and just—”

“So, you were in love with me since we were fifteen?”

“God, yes.” He sighs. “I’ve been in love with you for the longest time. When I told you that, I knew you wouldn’t believe me and I understand if you still don’t. But I’m telling you the truth—”

“When do you want to come home and visit my parents?”

You ask. 

“Wait, why?” Jaehyun asks, letting out another nervous laugh. Sixth floor and the doors close again. “Y/N, you’re being a bit confusing right now—”

“My parents miss you, actually. I missed you.” You explain. “But you don’t need to if you don’t want to—”

“I can pretend to be your boyfriend again, Y/N. Anything for you—”

“Not as my fake boyfriend, but as my real boyfriend.” You correct him. 

He stares at you. “Are you in love with me?”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “How could I not be?”

The elevator stops at the seventh floor. Jaehyun breaks out into the biggest smile, gently grabbing your cheeks and crashing his lips onto yours. You stumble back from the impact. He walks forward and you walk backward until you're both standing in the corner. He kisses you passionately and gently that it makes you weak in the knees. 

“Y/N? You forgot to bring this—oh fuck, what the fuck?!” Jungwoo sees the both of you making out in the elevator when the doors open. Jaehyun quickly presses the button to close the door. You giggle, pulling him closer, not wanting any of this to end. 

Jungwoo scrunches up his nose in disgust. “Gross. But cute. I think my work here is done.”

“Babe, I’ll be over there getting popcorn for us. Alright?”

You nod. “Alright. I’ll go and buy the tickets.”

Jaehyun boops your nose with the tip of his finger before heading towards the food court. You’re printing out tickets with the self-checkout booth. Just as you’re about to move to the side for someone else to use the booth, you hear your name being called out but it’s not Jaehyun’s voice. 

You look up from your tickets to see—

“Taehyung?” You squint your eyes to get a better look of the guy approaching you. Indeed, it’s your ex, Taehyung. “Oh, it is you.”

“Long time no see.” He smiles. He’s about to reach in for a hug but you stand still. He chuckles sheepishly. “How have you been?”

You smile. “Better. You? How are you and Injae?”

His smile falters. “We’ve… We’re not together anymore, actually.”

“Ah, I see. Sorry about that.” You apologize. 

“Have you—Have you been seeing anyone, lately? I mean, there must be a reason why we’ve bumped into each other. It must be a sign—”

An arm is thrown over your shoulder and you’re being kept close to Jaehyun, who had come in just in time with the popcorn. “Yeah, I’m assuming that that reason would be to tell you that Y/N’s off the market and will be for a long time. Exes are exes for a reason. And a sign? This must be a sign to tell you to back off.”

“You’re together? The two of you?” Taehyung scoffs. 

“Yes, and?” Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow. “Anyways, it was nice seeing you Taehyung.”

“I—” 

“And I hope this will be the last time too.” Jaehyun smiles, before looking at you. “When did you say your parents were going to arrive, again?”

You chuckle, watching Taehyung walk away with defeat. “They’ll be here soon. I’m sure they can’t wait to see you.”

“There they are!”

Coincidentally, your parents arrive and rush over. Your mother combs out her hair with her fingers and lets out a sigh of relief. “I thought we were late.”

“Nothing to worry about, in fact, you came just in time.” You laugh, looking up at Jaehyun. “Actually, there’s someone I want to introduce to you.”

“Who? Jaehyun?” Your father asks before chuckling. “Silly you, we know who he is—”

Jaehyun extends his hand out to them. “Hi, I’m Jaehyun, Y/N’s boyfriend.”

“But—wait, what?”

And funny as it is, the two of you have a lot of explaining to do.

Baby steps.

author’s note. merry christmas everyone! hope you’ve been staying safe and healthy! take care always and please feel free to send me feedback! it’ll be very much appreciated! i hope you enjoyed this christmas fic!

[dothwrites]

13 and 20

13. and 20.--Detective AU and Teacher AU

---

Castiel represses a sigh as he stands up straight. His spine pops as he subtly stretches out the kinks in his aching body.

He'd thought that he was a reasonably fit man, but bending over and scrubbing at filthy floors and tables every day is playing hell with his lower back.

The bell rings, and Castiel curses under his breath as he moves back against the wall. Less than thirty seconds later, all of the doors near him burst open and a flood of teenagers courses into the hallway.

Castiel's had a lot of unpleasant assignments in his life, but going undercover at Carver Edlund High School is among the worst. He thought that he'd seen some of the worst that humanity had to offer: murderers who cared nothing for the pain of their victims, kidnappers who plunged families into turmoil for years, robbers who were willing to kill just in order to get a few quick bucks. But upon seeing the horror show of the cafeteria after a group of freshmen finished lunch, Castiel has to start reevaluating his list of atrocities.

The tardy bell rings, and Castiel sighs as he steps out in the hall. He rolls his eyes at the debris that the students have left behind and grabs his push broom to start clearing it away.

Going undercover at Carver Edlund wasn't Castiel's first choice of assignments, but with several students ending up in the hospital due to drug overdoses, something drastic had to be done. Castiel's job is simple: gather as much intelligence as he can about where the drugs are coming from. If possible, he's to find the dealer and shut the whole production down.

In theory, it's a good assignment. Success here would mean a potential commendation, maybe a promotion if the operation is big enough. But the reality of the situation is much different. Castiel's been masquerading as a member of the maintenance team for a little over a week, and he's no closer to finding the source of the drugs than he was when he started.

His captain had ultimately decided to send him in as a member of the janitorial staff for access reasons: as a janitor, he has keys to every door. Not even lockers are safe from him. There's no place in the school off-limits to him. Unfortunately, it also means that his opportunities for questioning potential suspects are limited: no high school student wants to have long conversations with the janitor. He's reduced to sweeping around gaggles of kids, hoping that they'll just so happen to let something slip.

His plan hasn't worked. So far, he's learned about the latest TikTok challenge, who's rumored to have slept with who, and who on the football team is getting suspended, but drugs? Either these kids are savvier than he gives them credit for, or they don't know anything.

"Oh, sorry, 'scue me... Oh. Hi, Steve."

It takes Castiel just a second too long to respond to the name. Part of that is because he's still not used to answering to his cover name, and part of that is because he's still not sure how to act around Dean Smith.

He braces himself before he turns around, but that still doesn't prepare him for the sight of Dean Smith leaning against the wall. Looking at him is like looking into the sun, if the sun was in a dingy hallway with flickering florescent lights and questionable stains on the floor. Even with those inauspicious surroundings, however, Dean Smith, with his sandy hair, vibrant eyes, freckles, and bright, crooked grin, stands out.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel allows the hint of a smile to cross his face. He'd called Dean 'Mr. Smith' exactly once before Dean had put a stop to it.

"Oh, no," he said, grimacing in distaste, "I get enough of that from the kids. Just Dean, man." Castiel hadn't argued, and the slightly stuffy Mr. Smith became Dean.

"Another beautiful day cleaning up the debris of the world?" Dean gestures towards the small pile of dirt and dust that Castiel has managed to collect.

"It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it," Castiel answers.

No doubt his superiors would be screaming if they could see him right now. Zachariah, his Captain, would sneer, You're there to catch drug dealers, Novak, not to play nice with pretty boy teachers, but Zachariah isn't here right now. Plus, it's not like Castiel's making any headway on the drug dealers, so he might as well indulge his crush with a guy who's miles out of his league.

Dean is the kind of good-looking that gets noticed by modeling companies in the line at the cafe. Castiel has found himself wondering, more than once, what a guy like him is doing substitute teaching. It's obvious that Dean is smart, and he doesn't doubt that he could have a job doing whatever he wanted. Still, Dean's being a substitute teacher works out well for him, so he doesn't complain. Not if it means that he can be just a little closer to him.

Maybe if Castiel wasn't undercover and wearing an unflattering jumpsuit with the name 'Steve' stitched across the front pocket. Maybe if he were dressed in his customary suit and had a badge and gun to flash around. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

"Don't talk to me about dirty jobs," Dean says, his voice entirely too low and insinuating for the circumstances. Heat blooms underneath Castiel's collar.

"Well, I'm not sure what else to talk to you about," he confesses. He resents the broom handle in his hands.

Dean shrugs. His smile is still carefree, but there's something else in his eyes when he says, "What about any books that you've read lately? TV shows that you've watched?" His eyes flash to Castiel's, and his tongue flirts with his lower lip as he asks, "Restaurants that you'd like to go to?"

Castiel's heart stutters. For a second, it sounded like... But that can't be right. Dean can't be inviting him out. Guys like Castiel don't go out with guys like Dean. That's just the way the world works. Maybe if he was Detective Castiel Novak, but now when he's Janitor Steve.

He takes a second too long to answer. By the time that he's managed to figure out that Dean is serious, Dean's expression has shuttered. He flashes a painfully fake smile at Castiel. "Hey, man, don't worry about it. I'll catch you later, okay?"

He's turning to go, and fear grabs at Castiel. He knows that if he lets Dean walk away, then everything will change between them. No more jokes, no more stolen conversations in the hallways. They'll become nothing more than vague, uneasy colleagues, at least until Castiel's assignment ends and he disappears forever from Dean's life.

The indignity of his assignment and the frustration of his ineptitude rises in Castiel, and bursts out of him in a quick call. "Dean!"

Dean turns around. Hope flickers in his eyes before he hides it. "Yeah?" he asks. The carefully blank tone in his voice is like a knife twisting in Castiel's chest.

"I like Italian food," Castiel answers. He offers a hesitant smile towards Dean, hoping against hope that Dean will accept his overture.

After a second, Dean's smile spreads slowly across his face, as bright as the sunrise. "Yeah," he says, nodding slowly, "yeah, I think we could do that."

---

Dean's heart dances in his chest as he walks away from Steve.

He did it. After weeks of ogling and tentatively flirting, he finally asked out the hot janitor.

Steve is a lot more than a pair of pretty blue eyes and a five o'clock shadow that makes Dean's lip yearn for stubble burn, though. (Though Steve does fill out a jumpsuit better than anyone Dean's ever seen. One day, he was lifting a desk onto the dolly so that it could be moved, and Dean thought his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. Between the thick thighs attempting to pop the seams on his pants, and the biceps rippling, Dean hadn't known where to look.) Steve has a wicked sense of humor, an innate sense of kindness, and he's caught every single one of Dean's literary references (the pop culture ones, not so much. Seriously, who's never seen Indiana Jones?). There's more to Steve than meets the eye, and Dean's itching to peel back the dozens of layers.

He ignores the tiny voice in the back of his head (which sounds like an alarming mix of Sam and Bobby) saying Don't get too involved. This is a temporary thing. Dean frowns and tries to tell the voice to shut the fuck up.

He's only here for as long as it takes him to figure out who's bringing drugs into the school. At the first viable lead, he'll be yanked out, and Dean Smith, substitute teacher, will die, to be replaced by Agent Dean Winchester of the DEA.

Because of the environment, there are multiple law enforcement agencies working on this case. There's state police, the DEA, and maybe even a few FBI agents sniffing around. It's naive to believe that there aren't other agents working in the school, but he hasn't come across any yet that he knows of. He's not entirely sure; he lets Bobby deal with all of the inter-agency bullshit. He has his mission and his cover, and Bobby, as his handler, can navigate every other pitfall.

Beyond small talk and leading conversations, Dean hasn't tried to get close with anyone. Every smiling face could conceal an undercover agent or a dealer. With suspicion everywhere, it's best not to succumb to temptation.

Which makes his attraction to Steve all the more intriguing.

Just thinking of the other man sets off a series of fireworks in the pit of Dean's belly.

This is probably a terrible idea, doomed to failure, but Dean is going to enjoy the ride while it lasts.

Whistling, he goes back to the classroom and prepares for his next class.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 3) - A Moment

Summary: Jensen is away from home for a few days but isn’t having the easiest time being away from the kids for the first time since the accident. When he returns home, he has a gala to attend on Saturday night but a kiss on the cheek and slip of the tongue will snowball into the reader and Jensen sharing a moment...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,100ish

Warnings: language, death of a spouse, death of a parent, anxiety, self-worth problems, referenced past harassment

A/N: I love this part so much for so many reasons. Please enjoy!

________

“Hi Jensen,” you asked Monday night when your phone rang. “How was your flight earlier?”

“Same old same old. I just got out of work,” he said with a yawn. “Gonna grab a bite out with a friend. Kids eat dinner okay?”

“We had honey sriracha glazed salmon with brussel sprouts and roasted red potatoes.”

“Really?”

“They had kraft mac and cheese and I had Taco Bell.”

“See this is why I like you,” he chuckled.

“I’ll try the salmon again tomorrow. I was gonna make it but they didn’t have any at the store,” you said, opening the fridge and taking out a pint of ice cream. “Hey can I have what’s left of this mint ice cream?”

“Sure. Pick some more up for me sometime before friday please,” he said. “Also, Taco Bell? You do realize we live in freaking Austin right. There are literally hundreds of places you can go that have better mexican food.”

“Yeah but fake cheese tastes good,” you said. He laughed and your stomach rumbled. “I so should have gotten more than two tacos.”

“You in the kitchen?” he asked. You hummed and you heard him let out an oof in the background.

“Yeah. You alright?”

“This bed in my hotel room is comfy,” he said. “But I was starting to say, go in the drawer at the end of the counter by the table. There’s only five hundred gajillion take out menus in there. Order a treat for yourself. It’s on me.”

“Jensen. I can get my own dinner.”

“True but you’re on call 24/7 until I get back.”

“Well in that case I bet you got a menu for a fancy steakhouse in here somewhere,” you teased as you picked up one for a tex mex looking restaurant. “Does this place really have quesadillas this big?”

“You must be looking at the menu on top. I almost ordered from there last week actually. The food’s great. They do delivery too. Just buzz the guy into the gate when they get there.”

“Any recommendations?” you asked, taking out the menu and flipping it over.

“Quesadillas are good. Loaded nachos are amazing. I’ve literally never had a bad thing from there,” he said. “To be honest I’d rather be getting that than where I’m going tonight.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, reading through your options, surprised to find such good prices.

“I have to wear a suit,” he said with a sigh. “After being poked and prodded all day I literally would rather just eat crap and watch food network.”

“How long have you known this friend of yours?” you asked.

“Twenty years, why?”

“Then you guys knew each other when you were young. It’s not too late out there. Call him, see if he’d rather get some crap food, a six pack and just catch up on his couch or in your room. I’m pretty sure he’s more looking forward to seeing an old friend again than the food,” you said.

“You make very good points. I should pay you more,” he said.

“You pay me plenty and barely let me spend a dime of my money on myself,” you said. “I don’t need more.”

“You got that fancy computer though.”

“You literally have the exact same mac in your office.”

“You moved in like three boxes and two computers,” he said.

“An ipad is not a computer,” you said.

“Debatable.”

“Well I like to draw sometimes and it’s easier on an ipad when you’re laying in bed,” you said. 

“Are you any good?” he asked.

“No.”

“I bet they’re really good,” he said as you rolled your eyes. “I see you draw with the kids sometimes and those are good.”

“It’s a hobby is all,” you said, leaning back against the counter, your stomach grumbling again. “Anything else you want me to grab at the store? I’m going to hit it tomorrow while everyone’s at school.”

“Nah. Get the usual stuff,” he said. “The kiddos in bed?”

“Yeah, got the last one down about fifteen minutes ago,” you said. He hummed and you heard the sigh in it. “I got a video of them playing earlier I’ll send you.”

“Thanks. It’s my first night away from them in a long time. Normally I’m able to come back same day. I was kinda hoping they’d still be awake to say goodnight.”

“They’re safe and sound dad. We’ll call again after school tomorrow to talk like today,” you said.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. He was quiet and you pulled the phone away, taking a deep breath. 

“You okay?” 

“I haven’t been alone like this in a really long time.”

“I know. You check out your backpack yet?”

“No. Why?”

“You didn’t bring a jacket with you so I put that yellow hoodie that’s always on the hook in there in case you got cold.”

“That was Dee’s hoodie.”

“I was pretty sure it was,” you said. You heard him shuffle around briefly before he hummed, much happier that time. “I thought you might like to have a piece of...something-”

“I really don’t pay you enough,” he said quietly. “Thanks for putting this in there. I need something from home more than I realized.”

“Well put it on, call up your buddy and have some fun tonight, Ackles. Nanny’s orders.” He laughed and you felt that twinge in your stomach again, your eyes quickly closing.

“I will. Hey you mind if I call again tomorrow night? I don’t have any plans and sitting in a hotel room by myself isn’t very fun.” You smiled and felt heat in your cheeks, quickly thinking it away. He wanted company for a few minutes was all and you were friends. It was completely normal to talk with friends on the phone everyday.

“Of course. As long as you get a dinner in at some point that’s more than fine with me,” you said. “We can talk about The Bachelor!”

“Oh God no,” he groaned, chuckling after a few seconds. “I’ll settle for Grey’s Anatomy.”

“This Is Us?” you asked.

“Supernatural?”

“I haven’t watched that yet. I’m working up to it,” you said. 

“Work faster woman. I only know legit everything about that one,” he chuckled. “But probably not a good idea to watch that one until I get back and you're not alone. First episode is kinda scary.”

“Oh well thanks for that,” you said, watching the clock tick by, knowing it had to be almost seven out there. “I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight Jensen.”

“I will Y/N. Promise.”

Friday Night

“Arrow,” you said after she’d flung her pasta bowl all over herself, covering her hair and face. She sniffled and you forced a smile. “Okay. How about a bath after dinner?”

Fifteen minutes later JJ and Zeppelin were in the movie room watching a cartoon while you had Arrow in the kids bathroom, scooping up some water over her head in the tub.

“Well hello ladies,” you heard behind you. You jumped and spun around, glaring for a moment before you recognized Jensen.

“Just me,” he said, backpack still on his shoulders. 

“Daddy I got ziti all over my head,” she said.

“You did?” he asked, dropping his bag and taking off his jacket, kneeling down next to you. You got the last bit of sauce off and squirted some shampoo in her hair, Jensen watching you with a smile. “How was your day?”

She told him all about breakfast and daycare, playing with a few toy boats with him while you rinsed out the soap. You did a bit of conditioner before getting it out as well and putting the spray nozzle back.

“I got the rest if you wanna get the dryer ready?” he asked you, reaching for the soap. You swapped spots with him, Jensen washing her up while she kept talking about her day. By the time he was all done you had the dryer out and plugged in, Jensen picking her up and wrapping her up in a big bundle of towels before he set her on the counter. You went to work drying her hair, Jensen draining the tub and finding some pajamas for her.

“Do you want your hair up or down, sweetie?” you asked. She tried gathering it up and you grabbed her soft scrunchie perfectly fine for sleeping in from the counter. You put her hair up in a soft little bun, Jensen making an adorable sound when he returned.

“Aw, you look so cute, baby. I’ll be right there alright?” he said. She hopped off the counter and got dressed, rushing off downstairs when she was all done. “Survive the day?”

“Somehow we always do,” you said, gathering up the towels. “Kids are in the movie room.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna shower but we’re all good for the night,” he said. “Thanks for watching them this week.”

“You gotta go do your job,” you said. “You working on a movie or something? You never said.”

“Uh gonna be in a show called The Boys,” he said. “I’m gonna be one of the superheroes so I gotta go out and get my suit made all special for me every so often.”

“You’re gonna be a supe! That’s so fucking cool!” you said. He grinned and you blushed, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so not appropriate.”

“I don’t see any little ears around,” he chuckled. “You like the show then?”

“Yeah. It’s great. Like no other show consistently makes me go what the fuck did I just see. That’s so cool you get to be a supe though. Are you a one off or like a main character?”

“I’ll be very present in the next season. Gonna deal with the seven, all that,” he said. “I’m gonna be Solider Boy.”

“I can see that. You have that all American boy thing about you.”

“It’s my adorable face,” he teased. 

“Well remember to not stay up too late. You have the gala tomorrow night remember?”

“Yes mom,” he said as you walked out. “Get the kids some takeout for dinner tomorrow and yourself.”

“Sounds good boss,” you said. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

The Next Night

You froze from where you were mixing up some brownie batter with JJ at the kitchen counter as Jensen popped downstairs. He was in a gorgeous black suit, a maroon pocket square and no tie going on, his hair scruffier looking than normal.

He started to laugh and you realized you were staring, your cheeks feeling hot as you went back to stirring.

“Mmm, you guys save me a brownie or two for when I get home?” he asked, leaning over and dipping his finger in the bowl of cream cheese frosting.

“We’ll spare one for dad,” you said, Jensen going back for seconds. “Ah, ah. No.”

He dipped his finger in and got another fingerful, kissing the top of JJ’s head and the twins at the counter.

“Be good for Y/N guys!” he called as he rushed out.

You whistled and he jogged back, catching you holding up his phone from the counter.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it and pecking a kiss on your cheek. You looked up at him and he froze. “I am so sorry. I…”

“It’s okay. Go have fun and be all charitable,” you said. He shoved his phone in his pocket and ran out, JJ scratching her head.

“Dad’s kinda weird sometimes,” she said.

“Yeah, he is. But so is everybody,” you said. “Let’s get this in the oven so you guys can pick out colors for your frosting, hm?”

“I really shouldn’t. But I really should,” you said to yourself, plopping your second brownie of the night in a bowl and sticking a scoop of ice cream on top. You carried it over to the couch and lay back, watching TV on the big screen as you heard the door open. Jensen came into view a minute later, taking his jacket off and groaning as he washed up at the sink. He went to the tray of brownies on the counter and picked one up with a big sigh. “Fun night?”

He jumped and whacked his head against the cabinet above, hissing before he spun around.

“You okay?” you asked. He nodded and left the brownie behind, pushing his sleeves up before taking a seat on the other end of the lounger.

“Y/N I’m really sorry about the kiss on the cheek. That was so inappropriate. You’ve kinda implied that there was some stuff that’s happened to you at other jobs you found over the line and I’m really truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I wasn’t...I forgot you’re my employee for a moment. I really am sorry.”

“Jensen if I had a problem with it or you or your behavior I would quit on the spot. I don’t let myself get pushed around anymore. You were happy and busy and you pecked a kiss on my cheek, not reach a hand down my pants. It’s really okay. You’re way too hard on yourself.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive. It’s barely ten which means you left as soon as you could. You’re supposed to be out having fun,” you said.

“I was kinda freaking out that you hated me,” he said.

“Dude you gotta relax,” you said. “Have a brownie and some ice cream.”

He got up and after a minute took a seat at the other end with a bowl of his own, smiling as he got a taste.

“This is fucking awesome,” he said.

“I know,” you said, Jensen smirking. “Do you feel better now silly boy? I promise that if you ever do anything I find inappropriate I will promptly kick you in the balls.”

“I can agree to that,” he said. He ate for a moment, watching the TV and laying back. “Do you ever like, want to go do things with your friends on a Saturday night? If you do that’s totally cool. These aren’t normal hours anyways.”

“Being a nanny eats up a lot of your social life,” you said. “Kinda got kicked out of my friend group after I broke up with my ex anyways.”

“Well they sound like they suck,” he said.

“Yes, they do,” you said. “I don’t mind so much. I meet plenty of new people through work. Only person you can depend on is yourself and I don’t tend to let myself down.”

“That’s a very lonely way to go through life,” he said.

“It’s not easy to make friends in your thirties,” you said. “Maybe for someone like you who travels and meets new people a lot and stuff but you have like, real friendships. You know?”

“Well we have a real friendship, don’t we? You’re friends with Jared and Rob and Ruthie and Rich,” he said. “I don’t trust just anybody with my kids. That’s real.”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a bite. “So when’s your friend free?”

“Hm?”

“Blind date guy. Maybe he could be a friend if things work out,” you said.

“Oh yeah. He uh, he actually got a gig up in Canada so you might need to wait like a month or so. But he’s excited to meet you,” said Jensen.

“Can I have his number?” you asked. “Or do you think that’d be weird?”

“No, not weird. I think he just kinda wants to do it old school if that’s okay. Meet you first and go from there.”

“This friend of yours better be like super hot,” you said.

“If it’s a problem-“

“I can respect him wanting to do things like that. But I’m gonna want a firm date soon,” you said.

“I’ll make sure to get you one,” he said. “I’ll get it down tomorrow, promise.”

“He better not mind me eating like this either. I ain’t a salad on the first date kinda girl. He’s gonna need to keep up with my eating while were at it,” you said. He snorted in his seat beside you and ran his hand over his face.

“I will keep that in mind. I have occasionally had dessert first truth be told,” he said.

“This is why I like you Ackles. You get my sweet tooth,” you laughed.

“It’s a good thing your dinners are healthy cause I swear I haven’t consumed this many baked goods in months,” he said. “The kids love it and my stomach loves it though.”

“I’m gonna need to start working out though if I keep this up. Oh hey is it okay if I do laps in the pool in the mornings? I’ll be super quiet and stuff.”

“You don’t gotta ask,” he smiled. “Like I said when you started, you got free reign to use the pool, the gym, whatever, aside from my room. You a swimmer?”

“Not really but I hate running and supposedly it’s a good workout or something,” you shrugged, eating another bite of brownie.

“Anything in the gym you’re free to use. I know you must get a little bored sometimes when I’m gone and the kids are,” he said.

“Not bored per say. Ordinarily I would do more chores but you have like a cleaner and a landscaper and you just...give me more time in the day than I’m used to is all. It’s actually great though. It gives me plenty of time to come up with ideas for the kids and stuff.”

“Well as long as you’re taking breaks and your lunch do as you please,” he said, his spoon scraping the bottom of his bowl.

“Now that’s just sad.”

“I really should get another one of these,” he said, sucking the spoon.

“It’s really the only choice you have,” you said. He laughed as he hopped up, skirting back into the kitchen and fixing up another brownie and ice cream combo.

“Hey you want more, Dee?” he asked. You popped your head up and he spun around. “I’m-“

“Don't apologize, Jensen,” you said. He tapped his fingers against the counter and took a deep breath, putting his back to you.

“That’s the second time tonight I’ve done that,” he said. 

“Jensen. There’s nothing wrong with missing your wife.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“You don’t...talk about her much.”

“It was...she wasn’t…” he trailed off. He sat down on a barstool and you got up, walking over and hopping up on the counter beside him. You set your feet in the stool next to his and paused before you put a hand on top of his head and ran your fingers through the short strands. “This shouldn’t have happened to her.”

“Death is the price for living. Pain’s the price for caring. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it,” you said. You started to move your hand away when he turned his head. 

“Don’t…” he said, easing when you played with it gently again. “That’s always calmed me down since I was a little kid.”

“Someone should take care of you every once in a while you know. Your parents, siblings, friends. Everyone needs a break.”

“I had a lot of help at the beginning. I don’t need a whole day. Just a moment here and there,” he said quietly.

“It’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. He nodded and you played with his hair a few moments, watching his shoulders ease. This time when you pulled away he smiled up at you. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you. That’s not in your job description to do that sort of thing.”

“Well I think your wife would want somebody to watch your back, even for only a minute or two,” you said.

“You don’t have any brain aneurysms I should know about, do you?” he chuckled. 

“No. That what happened?” you asked, a single nod coming from him.

“She was sleeping. Not a bad way to go I was told, you’d never even know,” he said. “Not a fun thing to wake up to in the morning though.”

“My dad had a mass at the back of his head. It was that same kind of thing where one second it’s fine and the next everything’s different deal. It was inoperable. Then he goes and dies from a car accident of all things before it got bad. My mom had a hard time with that.”

“You said she had a boyfriend later on right?” he asked.

“Yeah. I know you’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. You ruffled his hair and he smiled, a soft look on his face. “Pro tip too from someone who’s been there, kids with a single parent turn out just fine.”

“Do they ever wish they had another parent?” he asked.

“They wish the parent they still have around is happy again someday. They won’t understand until they’re older that it’s a different kind of love between parents. But they’ll know it’s a little different and they’ll hope dad feels better too. Your kids are tough. They’ll be okay too.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said. You hopped off the counter and washed up your dish, sticking it in the dishwasher before you went to leave for your room. “So I gotta ask. Who takes care of you?”

“Me?” you asked, pointing to yourself. He shrugged and smiled, your gaze going past him. “I’m all good. I don’t need somebody to take care of me.”

“Liar,” he said softly. “You know my friend tells me everybody needs to be taken care of sometimes.”

“That’s the difference between us Jensen. You’re not like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed, his face scrunching up suddenly.

“It means you’re not on your own and even if you feel like it, it’s only been a little while. You’ll be okay. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a kid. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“You haven’t lived my life and I haven’t lived yours. Don’t try to tell me that I’m not capable of-”

“It’s not about what you’re capable of. You said pain is part of life, it’s the price for living. You’ve had more than your fair share-”

“Lots of people have it a lot worse.”

“Don’t compare your pain to someone else's. They haven’t lived your life,” he said. You rolled your eyes and started to walk away, Jensen out of his seat and catching up with you in the hall. “You can be taken care of too you know.”

“By who? My non-existent circle of friends? My crappy ex? My mom’s ex boyfriend who’s got his own wife and kids? I am perfectly fine managing all of this by myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“You’re so frustratingly annoying,” he said, running his hand over his face. “Me. I’m talking about me. You just...you took care of me tonight. The least I can do is show you the same compassion.”

“No,” you said.

“No? Why not?”

“Because taking care of me turns into you walking into my shower without my permission and you being a dick and this going away and I don’t want you to be those things so no. We’re getting too friendly. Please leave me alone tomorrow.”

You left him in the hall and went down to your area of the house, shutting the door after you. There was quickly a knock and you growled, ripping it open.

“What?” you snapped at him.

“I am not going to hurt you or be a dick to you or whatever else you think. You need to realize in the real world, not everyone is an asshole.”

“You’re the one not living in the real world then, Jensen. Everybody’s an asshole.”

“Fine. I’m an asshole. But I’m not leaving until you say I can take care of you tomorrow. Two minutes is all I’m asking for.”

“This is my part of the house.”

“And technically I am outside your door,” he said. “Why are you so resistant to somebody doing something nice for you?”

“Because I don’t wanna get used to it,” you said. He stared and you shook your head. “You’re attractive and an actor and kind and funny and it’s not a matter of if you date again but when and when that day comes, we ain’t gonna be sitting on the couch eating ice cream anymore. Please do not invite me to anymore outings as a friend. I’ll attend if required as a nanny but this between us is done.”

“For the record, the only one around here that thinks of you as just the hired help is you. My children are completely like their old selves. I feel more like my old self. You seem happier than when I met you but for some reason, that’s a big problem to you. I do not understand that.”

“Leave or I resign and move out first thing,” you said. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “This is my formal resignation then. The company will-”

He moved quickly and you weren’t sure what he was doing at first but soon you realized he was hugging you, your hands resting against his chest. You swallowed and he didn’t move, your forehead resting against him.

“What are you doing?” you breathed out.

“When’s the last time you got a fucking hug?” he asked.

“The kids-”

“Not the kids.”

“I don’t remember,” you said quietly. 

“Then you are overdue,” he said. You let yourself reach your arms around him and return the hug, breathing deeply, a small bubble in you rising up. You tried to push it down but it came back harder and you were fighting back tears before you knew it. 

He could feel when you lost that battle, hand rubbing up and down your back. There was a soft shushing in the air and after a few minutes you felt better. You lifted your head but didn’t look at him, Jensen squeezing you in his hug again before it eased.

“You know you’re not allowed to quit on me...like ever,” he chuckled. You let out a small laugh, Jensen smiling at you when you forced your head up. He wiped off your cheeks and you let out one last sniffle. “You’re not alone. I promise you’re not. It’s not the quantity of people you have in your life but the quality and I’m sorry but we are friends and there’s nothing you can do about that so I’d just accept it now.”

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”

“You were scared, not a bitch,” he said. “I wish I could make you happier is all.”

“I wish I could bring back your wife for you,” you said.

“One of those is a lot more possible than the other,” he said. A small smile crossed his lips before he ducked his head down, shoulders heaving back before his head raised. “Y/N, can I confess something to you? I hope...I hope it doesn’t bother you but if it does, you don’t have to continue working for me. I’d still like to be friends regardless.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked, Jensen looking past you.

“My single friend I was going to set you up with? He doesn’t exist.”

“Oh.”

“Cause he’s kinda me.”

“Oh,” you said, staring at him, a lot of his previous behavior starting to click into place. “That’s…”

“I know,” he said, stepping away and rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s weird and douchey and I’m sorry. I like you and I was trying to see if you would ever go for a 42 year old actor. I left out the widow and kids part but...I’m sorry.”

“When did you like me?” you asked quietly.

“The whole time?” he said, laughing nervously to himself. “It’s kinda snowballed since we met. I never in my life thought I’d like someone again. I didn’t want to like you. I hired you because you were the best candidate and I knew the kids would be in good hands but everyday it’s there, even more, and I know this is so inappropriate on so many levels and I’m really starting to ramble here but you make me think maybe your mom had a point and people are allowed to have...more than one…and sometimes the way you talk to me and treat me and look at me...” 

He swallowed as you stepped in front of him, taking a quick breath. 

“I will keep working for you and I’ll be your friend...and you can make me dinner tomorrow,” you said with a smile. “We’ll see where it goes from there?”

“You’re not...weirded out?” he asked.

“By your age, you’re my boss or the cheeky lying about a fake friend?” you said.

“All of the above.”

“Age doesn’t bother me. You have no idea how to be a boss, no offense, and the friend...I don’t blame you for wanting to test the waters first,” you said. “But I expect honesty from here on out.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Good,” you said.

“You do like me right?” he asked. “Like you don’t feel obligated or-”

“I like you Jensen. Why do you think I was trying to push you away before you got too close? I didn’t want to be hurt.”

“Give me a chance to not,” he said. “We can have dinner and see how it goes from there.”

“Normally the best course of action,” you said.

“But maybe with a few more hugs from now on,” he said. “For the both of us.”

“That’d be okay with me,” you said. He smiled and you returned it. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“I guess you will,” he said. He turned to go when he spun back on his heels. “Or we could go back out there, eat way too much dessert and hang out?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Give me a minute to wash up my face.”

“Take all the time you want. I’m gonna change into something more comfortable anyways.”

He left and you washed off your face in the bathroom, drying it off and taking a deep breath.

You did like him. There was something calming about him to you and you enjoyed his company, even if it was just the two of you having a quiet cup of coffee in the morning.

But he was an actor. And kinda famous. And a widow. And had three kids. 

“But your face is cute,” you said aloud, looking the mirror. “Gah, of course you have to be like...into me. Nutjob. He must be a nutjob. That’s it.”

“Y/N?” you heard him saying and you smacked yourself in the face. “Are you talking to yourself?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said, stepping out and seeing him in the hall sporting a pair of pajama pants and a t shirt. “That was fast.”

“Well I didn’t go through an eight step skin routine too,” he chuckled.

“For your information, my routine is only three steps,” you said, walking past him and waggling your fingers.

“I didn’t realize I was living with such a savage,” he said. You laughed and went back to the kitchen, making up another dish of brownie for him while he went over to where he kept his liquor. “You a bourbon kind of girl?”

“Is there any other kind?” you said.

“Touche.” He poured out two glasses and slid one over while you passed his bowl to him. “So what’s this three step routine? Do I need to up my game or what?”

“I think I need your routine, not the other way around,” you said.

“Nah. I like looking at your face more than mine. Trust me.”

“Oh. How long you been holding back those kinds of comments?” you teased.

“Longer than you’d think,” he said, sharing the bowl with you. “Feel okay now?”

“Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I cried,” you said. “Especially in front of someone.”

“A good cry session has never hurt in my experience. I’ll do it for work and stuff but normally I’m not much of one. Aside from the past six months I mean.”

“Are you ready to try this?” you asked.

“Yeah. I know I am,” he said. “I’m positive of it.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because you make me happy. You make me...want to do stuff again, believe in all the romantic...if I wasn’t ready, I’d feel guilty. But I don’t. I just know that maybe some people get more than one chance and maybe I’m one of them.”

“I know you are, whoever it ends up being,” you said.

“Are you ready to try this?”

You took a drink and bite of ice cream, pushing the bowl back.

“I miss my family,” you said. “I miss being happy. I’d like to...have someone that could take care of me for a moment every once in a while. I might mess that up sometimes but I’m willing to try.”

“Me too,” he said. “I’d expect some screw ups on this end too. I’ve been out of the dating game for a long time.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t changed all that much,” you said.

“Well I’ve never dated with kids and as a widow,” he said.

“I’m just in this for them to be honest,” you laughed. 

“I see how it is,” he said with a smirk. 

“I don’t think it’ll be as hard as you think,” you said.

“I hope not,” he said. 

“Do they know? You want to date?”

“JJ does,” he said. “She’s little but she understands that it doesn’t mean I’ll never love her mother any less. She’s been strangely okay through this whole thing aside from the first few weeks. She helps her brother and sister out more now.”

“As someone who was that kid, minus the siblings, I know they’ll be okay. She’s a great kid. I’ve met plenty of spoiled brats. Yours are not.”

“Well that might just be the second best thing I’ve heard tonight,” he said.

“Whatever was the first?” you teased, eating a spoon of ice cream.

“Oh I think you know,” he said, stealing the spoon back. You smiled and heard some feet run around upstairs before the stairs creeped and a little head ducked down into view. “Arrow. It’s bedtime sweetie.”

“I had a accident,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, honey,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Want help?” you asked.

“Sure,” he said. He scooped up Arrow on the way up the stairs, setting her down in the kids bathroom. He got some clean pajamas and you found a pair of pull ups, Arrow pouting at you. 

“I don’t need ‘em,” she said.

“Your brother wears them. I wore them and your mommy and daddy wore them. Everybody wears pull ups when they’re your age,” you said.

“Just tonight,” she said, stepping into them. Jensen walked past with the mattress liner and she was dressed by the time you heard the washer going off in the distance. You walked her back to bed, Jensen slipping in past you and tucking her in. “Night daddy.”

“Night sweetie,” he said, kissing her temple. 

“Night Y/N,” she said.

“Night night kiddo,” you said, giving her a tiny wave before you left, Jensen flipping off her light and pulling the door shut. 

“Come here a second,” he said, nodding and you saw him head towards his room. The double doors were open and you stepped inside, Jensen going past the bed and over to a set of french doors. He pushed one open and waved for you to follow, showing you out to a rooftop balcony.

“Wow,” you said, a set of chairs, a table and a lounger out there along with a whole lot soft string lights. “I didn’t realize you had this up here.”

“Kinda a place to go unwind, relax,” he said. “I disappear out here sometimes. Been out here a lot at night lately.”

“Thinking about what?” you asked.

“You,” he said. “I talk to Dee about you sometimes as crazy as that sounds.”

“Doesn’t sound crazy at all,” you said.

“I just wanted to say...this area isn’t off limits anymore. Nothing is,” he said. 

“She asked you out, didn’t she,” you said with a smile. He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. “You’re cute.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek, heading back towards inside.

“Come on, Jensen. Before the ice cream melts on us.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

A Failed Betrothal (4)

Am I doing this right? I mostly do write this when I am between the state of sleep and awareness. Hope you enjoy this.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1) (Part 3)

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

PART 4

Marinette came to a dungeon cell with two other prisoners. One of them was awake and he looked vaguely familiar. The other had an ugly red helmet that didn’t help with the headache she had.

“Do you know where we are?” She asked the handsome stranger with beautiful green eyes, her throat a little dry.

Wait. Handsome?

No bad Marinette. Don’t fall for fellow prisoners, no matter how cute he looks. Oh Kwamis, she was already screwed.

He still hadn’t replied. Maybe he didn’t understand French. She tried to ask again in another language before her enhanced hearing picked up the sound of footsteps. She faked unconsciousness. Later, she heard the iron door open. She looked through the tiniest slits of her eyes she could muster while the two held a staring/glaring match. Oh shit, that’s the fame Talia Al Ghul, daughter of Ra’s, head of the League of Shadows, and the boy she was glaring at had some resemblance to her, so he must be her son, Dennis? Daniel? Damon?

"Damian, I hope you know what you should do."

Ohh..Damian. Where had she heard that name before?

"To be forcefully married to that little girl. She is no one special. Why am I getting married to her?"

Ouch, that hurts. Well, Damian, just because I forgot your name does not mean you can call me a little girl. I can also kill you very easily and painfully.

“Well, Jason, you are awake. You can be the best man for the wedding.”

“No. I don’t know what game you are playing but you better release us. B is gonna find us and you will pay. Let the girl go. She is innocent in all of this.” Red Helmet, Jason, is officially not going on her hit list for his atrocious fashion choices. But that red monstrosity still needs to go.

"Ladybug may not seem like it but she possesses great power that my father converted for centuries. Speaking of, she should be awake by now."

Marinette felt her hair being yanked. A little pain was expected but the really sharp claws digging into her scalp was not. Making her cry and tear up.

”I am so sorry, kit.” Plagg whispered in the kwami language, loosening his claws.

"Tch, See, she is more pathetic than I thought. She is not powerful." Damian growled out.

Geez, thanks for the compliment, it’s not like you ever had a tiny cat dig its claws into your scalp out of surprise. (Damian once had a kitten thrown at his head and if he knew about Plagg, he would have been sympathetic.) Marinette started begging for mercy, hoping they would buy the helpless girl out of the suit that is ill-suited for the job she had been chosen for and had no idea on how to escape.

“Like I thought, weak. She is not deserving of the title of my wife.”

Oh kwamis, what did she ever do to have such a picky groom? The more he insults her, the less she wants to be married to him.

"Appearance can be deceiving. Despite her demeanor, she is the current wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous and the Current Guardian. The old Guardian, the old fool had promised her in exchange for his protection."

Great, another reason to stop her mother from killing a senile old man.

"That doesn't mean I want to marry her. She is not worthy of an Al Ghul or a Wayne. Look at her, crying at the slightest feeling of pain."

So that’s where she heard it from. The boy was the son of the daughter of a guy who leads a secret order of assassins and a man that owns a multi-million business. How even did a billionaire meet an assassin, ends up in bed with her and lives? Something to think about for later. She quieted down her sobs, (beat that acting, Rossi) kept her voice low to hatch out a plan with Plagg in the kwami language while the mother-son duo bickered.

“Hey, Plagg before you go, you think I can do that thing, the one which your one of your past holders from Japan can do.”

“You have a lot of potential for destruction but you have not used the ring for a long time yet so I am not sure.”

“I will give it a go anyways. Nothing to lose after all. See you later, Plagg.” Marinette smiled, one that drove fear into the hearts of even the bravest of people. Plagg returned it, already loving the new Guardian before zipping out of the cell to do some scouting. Using the enhanced strength the French superheroine got from prolonged use of the Miraculous, she yanked the chains of the walls and wrapped them around Talia’s neck, cutting off her air supply.

The League of Assassins thought that they could kidnap her and get away with it. But they were no match for the daughter of Sabine Cheng, the deadly Blue Reaper. A high ranking member from the group of assassins and mercenaries called the Guild of Night, who had semi-retired. Kidnapping her was a bad move to make as it meant they had declared war on the Guild, despite the reason behind her abduction having a completely different intention.

She whispered as such to the older woman in her tight grip, making sure the League would know how much they had fucked up. After dropping the limp body, she took a deep breath and tried channeling some of her energy for what she was about to do.

Well, here goes nothing.

She breathed out on the shackles, turning it to rust.

Success!

She introduced herself as Lady and concentrated the energy from before into her hand, forming inky black orbs of destruction in order to free her fellow captives. She felt a little drained from doing magic out of the suit and tried not to show it. Plagg returned, informing her of where the Ra’s and the Pits were. She grinned at the thought of showing old Ra’s who the boss is and made sure he regretted ever messing with her. She explained about Plagg as vaguely as she can, no need to let anyone know about the miraculous than necessary. Sure her plan sounds insane but the boys don’t know who they were with.

She would worry about that curse after she got out of Nanda Parbat. Although she could probably find something in the grimoire to reverse it, she was still an amateur at magic so it was best to have a professional to take care of it. Marinette didn’t want to be with such an asshole, no matter how striking he looks in those regal robes.

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

Picking off the League assassins, one by one was easy especially in her transformed state. She hadn’t appraised her suit properly but from what she had seen, it wasn’t like Chat Noir’s leather get-up. She was armoured in vital areas and her colour scheme was mainly black with green accents. There were vials that were probably poisons and pouches which she decided to look at later. She still had a long braid as a tail from her brief stint as Lady Noire and she wondered why her suit was different. While hiding in a niche she found, she called the bakery via the comm in one of her various pouches.

“Hello?”

“Papa, it’s me, Marinette. Do you know where Maman is?”

“She went out of Paris, talking about how this League must pay. I think she is meeting up with several of her old friends. Are you alright, my little blossom? I know you can take care of yourself but I worry.” The relief in Tom’s voice was palpable. However, she was right and the Guild was going to war against the League. Marinette was adored by nearly everyone in the Guild due to her strangely bubbly and cheery personality in the harsh and brutal lifestyle.

“I am fine, Papa. Did Maman use the Horse to leave? And how are my friends?” She knew they might be in a panic after her disappearance.

“I think she did. I didn’t see Kalki when I went to feed the kwamis. Your friends panicked when they found out you were kidnapped. But they are fine now, mostly worried about you. Took care of some akumas and senti monsters by themselves. I think your fencer friend, Kagami, knows more about the League than she lets on.” Of course, she does. Her mother was a member of the Guild before being blinded due to a mission. Kagami and her actually first met during a reunion party of sorts.

“Thank you, Papa. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She hung up and dialed the personal phone number her mother uses that only Marinette and her father knows about. She waited for the call to connect, trying to think of ways to stop her mother from storming into the League’s base of operation.

“Maman, it’s me. I know you want to attack the League right this minute. But I have a better plan. Can you get Tikki’s earrings from Alix? We can use them and the ring to destroy the Lazarus Pits. Make them really angry.” She peeked out of the niche she was hiding in. She had been there for a while and needed to move to gain some grounds.

“Where are you? And are you okay?” Panic and worry filled her usually composed mother’s voice.

“I am somewhere in Nanda Parbat and I am fine. I was nearly married off to Talia’s son but I am not now. I think.” Marinette replied. Better to rip that band-aid off before she showed up with her would-have-been-husband. She jumped out of the niche and looked

“Kalki, Full Gallop. Okay, we will talk about the ‘nearly married’ part later. What was this plan to destroy the Lazarus Pits?” Sabine thought she was already used to Marinette’s brand of craziness that was her normal but apparently, not.

“I am currently on my way there. Plagg said we need Tikki to get rid of them. Since the League pissed me off and by extension you and the rest of the Guild, I thought our first move against them is to destroy the Pits and a trail of bodies. By the way, can you get some cheese for Plagg?” Marinette ran through the halls, knocking out some poor sod with a whack on the head.

Silence. She thought Sabine had hung up when-

“Voyage. Alix, where are you? We need Tikki for one of Marinette’s insane plans. And Marinette, stay safe, sweety, I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

“Bye, Maman. See you there.”

Marinette turned another corner, the last one before the path that leads to the entrance where the Lazarus Pits were. She only managed to find it with Plagg’s voice in her head, whispering directions and Tikki’s luck. Unfortunately, the luck ran out because the entrance had a lot of guards who had spotted her.

Crap.

She hoped her mother would get here soon. Thankfully, being transformed gave her a boost and would help her to hold her ground for a while.

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

Damian and Red Hood followed the trail of unconscious bodies and sounds of fights, trying to find Lady. Damian was impressed at the level of her skills to defeat many of the League’s assassins although he could probably do better. They relied on his memory to find the Lazarus Pits which was their best bet to finding her as she claimed to be able to destroy them. If Lady possessed such powers, they must find out whether she is a threat to the world or not. And also break the infernal curse they have.

Red Hood was silent mostly. He made a few jabs about how kick ass his ‘bride’ was and how the current Robin should not let her get away. Damian tried really hard not to just maim his adopted brother and also ignore that little fluttering in his chest that happened every time they saw an unconscious assassin left behind by Lady. The sounds of fighting got louder as they got nearer to the entrance. They turned the final corner to see Lady fighting against the guards who outnumbered her. But she seemed to be doing fine against them. Mostly.

One had slipped through her defenses and nearly stabbed her in the back if it weren’t for Damian grabbing one of Red Hood’s guns and shooting a rubber bullet to the neck. He jumped into the fight, grabbing the fallen assassin’s sword and taking out the knife he got from his mother. Jason joined in too, not going to let the two teens have all the fun.

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

“Thanks for the save, Al Ghul but I don’t know why you bothered when me being dead would solve your curse problem.” Lady said as the guards laid around them and they tried to catch their breath.

“It’s Wayne. I go by Wayne these days. Being an Al Ghul is not something I learned to be proud of. And as much as I don’t want this curse, your death is not worth that price.” he replied, “Although, I have to wonder why you would choose to die rather than live.”

She chuckled, “Okay, Wayne, to answer your question. Petty teenage drama makes death much more preferable. On top of that, I have responsibilities that I was practically forced into for doing one little act of kindness.” Her tone was joking but there was a touch of bitterness in it. It made Damian want to find out what caused it. Red Hood looked at her in concern. Lady went down the stairs, ignoring their reactions to her words. They followed her, not wanting to lose sight of her again.

The Lazarus Pits emitted a green glow that lit up the cave and cast strange shadows on the walls. At the edge of the glowing toxic green waters was a woman in dark blue clothing and strangely enough wearing sunglasses. Strapped to her sides were two Dao, ancient Chinese swords. She wore a vindictive expression on her face as she stood staring at the green lake, likely to kill anyone who gets in her way. Damian didn’t recognize the woman as part of the League but taking no chances, he got into a fighting stance and Hood did the same. Lady calmly approached the woman. He reached out to grab her to stop her suicidal nature when she shocked him by speaking to the blue-clad assassin in French,

“Hey, Maman, sorry I am late. I had a little trouble with the guards upstairs. You have Tikki?”

Lady’s mother rushed to hug her, “灵儿 (líng er), I am just glad you are alright. I knew you could handle yourself.”

How the hell did Lady’s mother get to the Lazarus Pits faster than them and snuck past several vigilant guards? Before Damian could question further, a red blur appeared and went to Lady’s face, hugging her cheek. It appeared to be the same size as Plagg but was red, looked like a bug and had a black dot on its forehead.

“Oh, Marinette, you are alright. I was so worried when your mother showed up, saying you were kidnapped and needed my earrings to escape.” Unlike Plagg’s nasally voice, her voice was sweet and shrill.

So, my bride’s name is Marinette. Such a unique name for an intriguing girl.

Wait what?

Wayne, stop thinking such ridiculous notions. That is probably the curse working. Resist against it. He will not be ensnared in the traps of such magic. He hoped that the curse will be reversed before he turns and act like those fools in Grayson’s idiotic shows or Todd’s ‘secret’ romance novels.

“I am fine now. See,” reassured Lady, “We actually need you and Plagg to reverse the Lazarus Pits to what it was before someone made the wish that resulted in them in the first place. Oh, I almost forgot. Plagg, claws in.”

Green light flashed, leaving Lady in her wedding robes (which actually flatter her body. Shit. Think of something else. Drake with a smug superior smile that needs to be wiped off his face. Grayson and his plans for ‘family bonding’) and Plagg to reappear.

“Cheese.” whined the cat-like kwami(?) to which the older woman held out a brown bag that smelled and made Plagg perk up in delight. He proceeded to open the bag, taking out a slice of stinky cheese, muttering about the greatness of camembert.

Todd cleared his throat and asked in English, “Umm...Pixie as much as your reunion is touching. Who’s the new lady?”

“Oh Right, sorry. Well, Red Hood, this is my mother, the Blue Reaper of the Guild of Night. Maman, this is Red Hood and the one next to him is my husband-to-be and Talia’s Spawn, Damian Wayne.”

Lady introduced them, also in English. Damian stilled in fear, recognizing the name. The Blue Reaper nearly became his mother-in-law. She was famous for her efficiency and ruthlessness. And gained her nickname from the blue clothing she often wore as she killed her targets. His eyes also widened at how his grandfather had gone a little too far now by kidnapping the Reaper’s daughter. There were other organizations that could possibly take down the League if it weren’t for the somewhat truce between Ra’s and the other leaders. The Guild was one of them and having the Lazarus Pits to revive their soldiers made the League a little more powerful. But if what the mother-daughter duo were planning succeeded, then the League was going to have one of its most deadly wars in its history and would probably never recover from.

“Tikki, Plagg, you guys ready?” asked Lady.

“Yes, Guardian.” They both replied and emitted a blinding red and green light which Damian shielded his eyes from. When it died down, the Lazarus Pits no longer glowed a toxic green and looked… like normal hot spring water.

“Oh. I wished I could see Ra’s face when he finds out.” Lady laughed. Plagg and Todd joined in.

“Pixie, I am beginning to like you.”

“Voyage. That being said, it’s time to go home, Marinette. Your father must be worried sick about us by now. I hope you boys can find your own way back.” A portal opened up, showing a cozy living room. Damian grabbed Lady’s wrist as she moved towards it.

“Wait, let us come with you. We need to contact someone to get rid of the curse on both of us. And we can also call our father to send us tickets for a ride home wherever you live.”

“Curse? Marinette, you never mentioned a curse in your call.” Blue Reaper said, raising her eyebrow.

“I will explain later. They can come with us and I am pretty sure Ra’s knows that we have escaped by now.” Lady grabbed the two brothers and dragged them through the portal.

She then threw herself onto the couch after releasing her hold on them and the two pocket gods went to comfort her after her ordeal. The Blue Reaper stood where the other portal was and fed a floating tiny gray horse, that must be the same species as Tikki or Plagg, some sugarcubes.

“You boys must be tired but the showers are upstairs and we might have some clothes your size. Dinner will be ready in an hour. You can stay the night if you want. Welcome to Paris.”

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

Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe. @tonicxworld, @toodaloo-kangaroo, @frieddonutsweets, @local-witch-of-mn, @lady-bee-fechin, @iglowinggemma28, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @k-tea-and-coffee, @jayjayspixiepop, @all-mights-asscheeks, @idk-j-go-with-it , @loysydark, @thenillabean, @lolieg, @zalladane, @silvergold-swirl

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

(Part 5)

[after-witch]

Sweet Escape [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Sweet Escape [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: Escape isn’t easy. Nor is it very long-lasting. When Overhaul’s men drag you back into captivity, you brace yourself and wait for what your captor will do with you. 

Word Count: 7,592

Notes: yandere, kidnapped, humiliation, degradation, mentions of eating disorder behavior, improper use of household cleaning products, Overhaul is a mean man 90% of this fic is just Overhaul being an asshole to you

There are going to be bruises on your shoulders. Fingerprint shaped bruises from the men holding you steady, afraid that you'll try to sprint off--maybe afraid that you'll try to spring at their boss, disobedient, unruly possession that you are.

You know that Overhaul won't like it when he eventually sees those black-and-blue fingerprints marring your skin--he might kill them for it, or worse. They're digging in too hard, but you don't warn them to ease up lest they find themselves on the wrong end of Overhaul's hands; they brought you back to this place, after all, and they deserve nothing but your hot, raw contempt.

You could run. You could slip out of their grip, if you put your mind to it. Your clothes are wet and the medical table that you're sitting on is slippery from the rainwater that's dripped out from your soaked clothes. But Chisaki Kai--no, Overhaul, you remind yourself, for the energy he’s exuding now is very much that of a foreboding boss--is standing in front of you, and you'd never make it to the doorway.

"Leave us," Overhaul says, not bothering to move as the men gripping your shoulders release their painful hold and swiftly leave the room. He tears off a sanitizing wipe from the ever-present canister on his desk and wipes down the doorknobs that they touched, before locking the door. An unnecessary precaution, given your nerves, given your state, given your realization that your escape attempt was a massive fluke that would never be allowed to happen again.

You numbly watch as he gathers up supplies from around the makeshift clinic he'd created in the small suite of rooms he allowed you to exist in. The canister of disinfectant. Medical-grade soaps. Sponges. A bucket. Needles, needles, needles... you remember the feel of the syringe you'd stolen in your hand and distract yourself from the fear of what he's going to do to you by retracing the steps of the past day.

**

You got farther than you thought you would--really, you did. At every stage of your plan, you expected Chisaki to suddenly reveal that he knew every step you'd taken so far. That he'd catalogued every act of false obedience to lure him into relaxing the rules, that he saw you swipe the syringe of tranquilizer from the clinic when he'd left for a moment to grab a fresh pair of clothes for you, that he knew you asked to sit with him at his desk only to sneak a glance at his calendar, so you could sweetly plead for an afternoon in the garden when he would be busy, when he would surely ask a highly trusted subordinate to watch over you.

A highly trusted subordinate who knew all about your weeks of good, sweet behavior and who was none the wiser when you'd jabbed him with the syringe, plunging the medicine, the same kind your captor once used to 'calm you down' when you were having fits, right into the man’s thigh. 

You didn't hesitate: you'd dipped your hands into the man's pockets, pulled out his wallet and ran. You barely remember anything until you were in the forest--you vaguely remember using the key card to open the gates surrounding the base, you remember the fear that at any moment you would hear an alarm sound; but from there, everything was a blur as you sped into the forest wearing only the soft day shoes you'd been given to go outside.

You made it through the forest, though not without bumps and cuts and sore feet and a dimly throbbing ankle that was thankfully only turned. You ran until you reached a small town, one you'd never been in before. You buried your first instinct deep, deep, deep: do not contact the authorities. Who knows what connections Overhaul had, especially in a town so close to where he operated? So instead you waltzed into a little corner shop and made a beeline for the bathroom--where you promptly vomited out your breakfast as all of the anxiety and fear and adrenaline caught up with you in an instant.

You remember staring into the bathroom mirror afterwards, your face cold with splashed water. It was then, staring into your pale and anxious face, a face you hadn’t been allowed to see in a mirror for ages, that you felt freedom slamming back into you. You could do what you wanted, now. You were going to get your life back. You could make your own schedule and have your own hobbies back and eat what you wanted and--your stomach had gurgled, as if on cue. You had to get something to eat. But how would you pay?

The wallet you'd pilfered felt heavy in your pocket, and you opened it without a second thought. No cash. But a credit card. It would do, until you were able to get some cash of your own. You wandered back into the shop and even now, you can still feel how struck you were by how cozy, how nice, how different it felt. Just a small general store with big open windows and soft music in the background, and an old woman behind the register who immediately asked you if you needed any help finding this or that.

You smiled--a real smile, how nice that felt--and shook your head and loaded up a basket. A first-aid kit, a large water bottle, a toothbrush and toothpaste... then came the snacks. Candy. Chips. Soda. Things you hadn't tasted in so long. You even grabbed a pointless fashion magazine. The old woman had glanced at the name on the card and you offered a sheepish smile, a fake one that made you feel a pang of guilt for lying to her: "My boyfriend sent me to do the shopping. He's no good at this stuff." She'd smiled and nodded, oh I understand dear, before packing up your order.

You stepped out into the sunshine--you can't pretend like you remember how it feels, right now, shivering from the damp rain on this table--and took a deep breath of fresh air. It smelled crisp and sweet and clean. Not the sterile cleanliness of your captor's clinic, but truly pure--real. There was a slight tinge to the air, and you spotted grey clouds on the horizon. Not an omen, no: just another sign that you were outside, you were in nature, you were free. The smell was the promise of thunder, of electricity, of cool rain.

It also smelled like... well, lunch. Or more precisely, you smelled the vague scents of the little pizza shop a few shops down.

And here is where you made, looking back, your biggest mistake. You should have headed to a bus station. Or called for a taxi. You should have gotten the hell out of there right that second. But your mind flashed back to Overhaul's little calendar, the words printed neatly in the little square for today: he would be away until the evening, which meant you (surely, surely) had a few more hours before he came back and discovered your escape.

He’d ordered no one to bother you and your now-unconscious guard in the garden, so if no one saw you run out, then an alarm certainly wouldn’t raised for a while. You had time, didn't you? Time to grab a meal? You could always get it to go, and you could even ask an employee inside about buses or taxes. Yes, it was fine--you would get a few slices to go and hop on a bus and leave forever. More than that, it was practical. You needed energy, and the junk in your bag--while undoubtedly delicious--wasn't going to be enough to sustain you for long.

The door to the pizza place dinged when you entered, and you almost teared up at the normality of it. It was a buffet style place, with rows of pizzas under yellow-cast lights and rows of red booths and people lifting slices onto their plates with shared tongs. Unusual for a small town, but maybe it was a remnant from a more bustling time, when American-style pizza places were all the rage. For a moment, your thoughts had turned back to your captivity: Overhaul would have never set foot into a place like this--nor would he have let you. Germs, germs, everywhere. And you loved it.

You paid with the card, but there was no need for excuses this time--the young man behind the register didn't even check for a name or signature, much less ask for identification. You asked about a to-go box and he'd shrugged, mumbled out an apology--they didn't do that here. You have to eat inside.

For a moment, the rational part of your mind screamed: get the hell out of here, then! But your stomach growled, and hunger beckoned, and damn if that row of glistening pizza slices didn't make you want to eat. And eat.  And… eat. You shoved repressed thoughts deep down, your heart hammering all the while, and took a tentative step towards the buffet. Thunder rumbled as you debated. You could be out of here in... 30 minutes? Enough time to eat--to binge, your mind whispered, you can now--and maybe get it out after? Yes, it would be fine. (It would not. Future you, the one sitting on the table and watching in increasing anxiety as Overhaul finishes up his tasks, wishes she could tell you.)

You should have seen the start of the rain, sudden and relentless, as a bad sign. Instead you ignored it and filled up a large cup with diet soda that spilled a little when you forgot to let go of the button. You ate without thinking, not even really enjoying the taste of the first greasy pizza slices you’d had in ages.

You were on your fifth slice when the restaurant doors dinged, but the sense of small town charm was overrun by the immediate realization that you were caught. You were fucked. The air thickened--were you the only one to notice?--as two men in slim suits entered the restaurant with an air of immediacy. You were spotted in a second, if that. You thought about running.

But then you thought about the bored teenager behind the register and the old man cutting up his wife's pizza slices because she had trouble chewing and the little girl stacking up pepperonis while her mom chatted on the phone and you resigned yourself. You didn’t want anyone else to get hurt…even if it meant giving in. You didn't struggle, couldn't struggle, and let them lead you swiftly outside where the torrent of rain soaked you immediately  as they pushed you down the block, where an unmarked car waited. You glanced up helplessly as the cloudy sky and rain streamed down your face before you were unceremoniously pushed into the backseat.

Overhaul was sitting inside, staring at you with an intensity you've never seen before.

**

Your backpack drops with a thump next to you and you flinch out of your memories.

"Let's see what you bought with that stolen card during your little adventure."  His voice is deceptively calm. He must be furious with you, you think. And you can't believe you didn't think about credit fraud alerts before you used the damn card.

The noise of the zipper is thunderous and you scoot yourself back on the exam table, pressing against the wall to put a little more room--even if it's only inches--between you and your captor. He begins to pull everything out of the bag, one by one, and seeing it all lined up makes it clear what type of lecture is coming.

A few bags of chips, a bottle of soda, bars of chocolate, all junk, junk, junk. All food he would never permit you to eat, and certainly not in such quantities.

"Disgusting," he murmurs, before tossing each item into a trash bin kept against the wall, one by one. You cringe at the sound of each bag, each bottle, hitting the bottom of the trash. You didn't even get to taste them. He stares at the trash, eyes narrowed, as if the food itself was worthy of his venom. "Full of unnecessary sugars and fats and oils. Eating so much of this will make you sick. We've talked about this."

You say nothing. You press your lips together. You won't give him the satisfaction of argument. You won't let him pretend like he has any right to lecture you on what you eat, and certainly not what you eat after you've escaped (however briefly) from his clutches.

"At least you didn't have time to ingest them during your ill-planned escape, hm?" He replaces his previous gloves--tainted with the thought of germs on the junk food bags, no doubt--and your stomach flips at the sound of the medical gloves he's snapped on in their place. "Which is more than I can say for the pizza." You never knew someone could say pizza with such a ridiculously nasty tone, but you've learned a lot of things during your captivity.

"You weren't content with this junk hoard," he says, gesturing towards the trash while keeping his eyes firmly on you. "You had to gorge yourself on greasy pizza from a dirty buffet, too? We are going to clean your mouth out, by the way.”

You hate the way he says gorge--you hate the way he says greasy--you hate the anxiety that comes with wondering what he’ll do to ‘clean’ your mouth. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him. The hate makes you answer defensively, despite your earlier resolution to stay quiet. You can't help yourself, in a lot of ways.

"I was hungry," you say, still feeling defiant.

"No one working on their fifth slice of pizza is hungry," he answers, simply. You feel diminished, but not enough to shut you up.

"So? It's not your business what I eat anyway.” A familiar tightness is springing to your throat. You don't want to cry in front of him ever again, so you clip the words out, fighting to retain control.

He presses a fist to his forehead in a sudden, rather surprising show of frustration. "Not my business? Not my business? It's my business to take care of you. Do you have any idea what could have happened to you out there?"

The fullness in your stomach, the cold rain soaking you, the remembrance of the wind and branches lashing at you as you ran hours before, all these freedoms have made you feel bold. Or maybe you're succumbing to the effects of an adrenaline crash and you just can't control your mouth.

"I could have been free. You can’t--you can't just keep me here. You can't just kidnap someone and decide you know what's best for them."

There's a long, steady pause as he stares at you. His expression--what you can see from his eyes--is blank, and you almost wonder if perhaps you've stumped him.

"I can," he says, lightly. Easily.

Fucker.

He sighs, and you get the distinct impression that you’re a nuisance, something to deal with, something he’s having to deal with instead of doing far more important things. "You’re showing a severe lack of appreciation for all the work I do to take care of you."

You don't know how to respond to that. "You kidnapped me.” It’s all you can think of--the bare truth.

He doesn't speak at first. Then he lifts something from the supply tray he's set up--a blue hospital gown, thin and short, and tosses it towards you. You catch it instinctively, feeling the thin, feather-light material in your fingers. He tosses a towel, next, and you hold it against your damp chest. He turns around.

"Change."

You don't want to. You don't want to. But you've never pressed your luck on what would happen if you refused to get dressed before, afraid that he might do it himself, and that fear overrides any thoughts of outright rebellion. For now. You slide off your wet clothes and push them towards the end of the table, then use the towel to dry off your skin. There are scratches and bruises, including a nasty looking one that's already turning green on your ankle. Your feet are swollen from running on the hard forest floor with your thin day shoes.

When you're finished, you clear your throat, and he turns back around. He tosses your wet clothes right into the trash--damn, you liked that shirt--and wipes off the table with a separate towel. You sit, legs dangling off the table, and wish he'd just get the punishment or examination or whatever it is he has planned over with. You can feel the coldness of the table through the medical gown, and its thinness makes you feel even more helpless. Weak. You want to retain that feeling of freedom that you had earlier in the day. Even choosing to return without a fight, choosing to avoid hurting the innocent people in that town, made you feel bold.

He stands in front of you until you force yourself to look up, to get it over with. He's swapped out his mask for a medical one.

"Have I ever hurt you?"

You hate this.

"No," you admit, voice tight. "Not physically," you add spitefully, because fuck him for trying to make himself sound like a decent person because he kidnapped you but didn't happen to hit you.

"Do I take care of you?" His tone is firm, commanding. It leaves no room for silences. Instead, it makes your stomach feel light, makes your heart feel like it wants to race.

"I can do that on my own," you counter.

"Can you?" He says, voice dripping in condescension.

"Yes," you spite, bile rising into your throat. "I can take care of myself."

He reaches back and grabs the little stool he keeps in this room, rolling it up to rest in front of the table and in front of you. He sits down and cups his hands together, resting them on his thigh. He leans forward. An easy gesture. Like he wants to have a conversation. But something about his movements sends out warning signals. Big, glaring, flashing warning lights that scream DANGER.

“You can take care of yourself.” It’s a statement, yet the way he says it is brutally mocking.

“I can,” you insist, your voice cracking just the slightest bit under his gaze.

"So, where would you live?" He watches you intently and it takes a moment for you to realize what he just asked you. He isn't offering you freedom, no. But maybe you can win an argument, just this once, and forcibly stop his delusions that he's "taking care of you."

"Anywhere," you say, but he looks unimpressed. "An apartment," you correct. "Like my old one. Doesn't have to be big." Your heart pangs with nostalgia for your old place, for your independence, for your life.

"Ah." Overhaul brings a gloved finger up to his chin and rests is there, nodding, as if he's seriously considering your words. "And how will you pay for rent at this apartment?"

You can't resist the snarky tone. "A job."

He rests both hands on his thighs. "Tell me, how much did you make at your last job, again? No--tell me, how long did you hold your last job?" You cross your arms defensively around your waist as he continues. "If I recall correctly, you were fired rather quickly from that one... and the one before."

You squeeze your waist, hoping for the tiniest bit of comfort from the gesture. "I... it wasn’t my fault.” You feel like you’re under a magnifying glass. “The first time. And the second, well, I was looking for something better, anyway."

He raises his eyebrows, curious. "Looking where? At the bottom of a bottle?"

Your entire body tenses.

"After all," he continues, voice almost taking on a syrupy sweet tone. "Your fridge was so well-stocked with them. Hmm. Do you think it's responsible to spend so much money on alcohol when you're behind on rent payments?"

"No," you say, voice tighter, "But--"

He doesn't give you a chance to finish. He stands, and you immediately squeeze your arms again. "And how much were you spending on other luxuries? Those clothes you kept carelessly shoved in your closet... they were a name brand, weren't they?"

Your throat is dry and your mouth is dry and you lick your lips. "There were sales," you insist.

"Ohh," he says, his voice lifting in mockery. "And I bet there were sales on the jewelry, the trinkets, the--" his eyes drift upwards, an implication of his disdain, "--figurines."

You lift your chin in defiance. "I'm allowed to buy things that I like."

He begins to pace. Not aimlessly, no, nothing with him is ever aimless. He paces until he stops in front of you, turning to face you for effect.

"What happens if you're late on three rent payments? Remind me of the policy that decrepit building you called an apartment complex had."

You squirm on the table. "I was only behind on two--"

"What happens?" His voice is firm. You can't avoid it.

There's a pause before you murmur, unwillingly. "You get evicted."

"So." He takes another step, and turns back towards you. "Do you think it's responsible to spend money you don't have on luxuries, when you're behind on rent?"

You want to run. Maybe you should have run at him earlier. Getting tossed into a solitary room after attacking him might be better than this interrogation.

"No," you admit. You swallow, dry and thick and a bit painful. "Okay. I'm not great with money. I bought things to make me happy because I was stressed out about---life. It's not that big a deal. I--I didn't get kicked out, anyway."

He sits again, but keeps himself upright, the air of faux casualness replaced with an air of command. "How did you catch up on your rent? Tell me."

You hate him. You stare at him, hoping he'll end this, but he simply stares at you until you blurt out the words. "You paid my landlord. Anonymously." You stare down at the floor, at the drops of water still there from earlier. "I didn't ask you to. I would have figured something out."

"I'm sure."

He stands, and you stare at the wall until you hear him roll the tray of supplies towards the table. Your body trembles of its own accord when he grabs your arm firmly and wraps a blood pressure cuff around the top. You sit in silence as the cuff gets tighter then mercifully deflates.

He tsks at the number, and jots it down on the pad resting on the table. For once, you're not tempted to peek.

"I need to take some blood," he says, and you stick out your arm in automatic, habitual compliance before your brain even realizes it. He grips your wrist firmly while he swipes your arm with an anti-bacterial agent.

"How much do you weigh?" He asks suddenly, voice nonchalant.

You stare at him, incredulous. He's never brought up weight before. He’s always been careful to avoid details about weight, nutrition--calories. The most he would do is point out that you need a well-rounded diet with the right vitamins and nutrients, and ignore your questions about sauces and cooking oils and grams, all attempts to find out something that could give you an ounce of control over what’s going into your body.

"I--I don't know.  You don't let me look at the scale when I step on it." He knows this. He knows that he's forbidden you from seeing the number, because he knows about your past, knows your tendency to get obsessive and strict and focus on food and weight and worth.

"Why don't I let you look at the scale?"

Your stomach feels like it's twisting.

"I don't know." The lie is bitter on your tongue.

The casual tone in his voice when he replies is far more biting than any cruel insult. "Yes, you do." 

His words are punctuated by the harsh medicinal smell of the next wipe. But you're in no mood to appreciate that he's still choosing to numb your skin despite your earlier transgressions.

The tears you felt building earlier begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. You don't want to cry, you don't want to cry, you don't want to cry.

“Why don’t I let you look at the scale?” He repeats, firmer, more insisting. He winds a band around your arm and taps at your veins.

Your arm looks fatter, like this. You swear it does. You look away to avoid your arm and the needle and his gaze.

“Because, um, I sometimes have problems with food. Or weight. Or whatever.”

“You have an eating disorder,” he tells you, all business as he plunges the needle into your skin; there’s only the ghost of a sting as he begins to slowly draw your blood. But you barely feel it, you can only feel the impact of his words, blunt and hateful.

"You were going to throw up in that germ-infested hovel. Eat until your stomach was distended, then head into a bathroom--which I'm sure the staff hadn't cleaned in ages--and stick your unwashed, greasy fingers down your throat until it all came back up. Am I correct?"

You can't tell if you feel woozy because of the needle or the way that your heart is racing at his words. Throw up. Greasy. Disgusting. You're disgusting.

"Stop it," you say, voice muddled with humiliation and anger.

He pulls the needle out, and quickly presses a bandage to your skin. He keeps a finger there, firm and pressing. He looks up at you, now, as he continues his onslaught.

"And then what? Let me make an educated guess. You were going to get on some filthy bus and open up all the junk you bought earlier? Perhaps," he muses, as he rips off a piece of tape to keep the gauze in place, "you could have asked the bus driver to stop at a public bathroom for a vomit break. And you'd probably make sure that whatever flea-ridden hotel you found along the way had a scale in the bathroom so you could keep track. And another one of your delightful," he practically spits the word out, "cycles would have started, hm?"

"Stop it," you repeat, voice breaking. "I wasn't--I wouldn't have--"

"You were going to," he says simply, interrupting. "Thankfully, we got there in time. Although I'm sure now you will endure a stomach ache after your reckless indulgence. A lesson, perhaps, though not the exact one I would inflict myself."

As if on cue, your stomach rolls and clenches. You’re keenly aware that you’re going to have digestive problems tonight, and the thought of being at his mercy while you’re dealing with them threatens to send you over the edge.  Could you get even more disgusting? The thought of how you look right now, stomach no doubt bulging, hair disheveled and damp, covered in ugly bruises and cuts--combined with the fear of spending the night on a toilet sends you over the edge.

You press your knuckles against your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut and try to force the sobs down. Your body begins to tremble, even more so as he lifts your leg. Without warning, he begins to unceremoniously scrub it down with a sponge dipped in disinfectant.

It stings and your eyes feel like they might pop at the sudden pain. You hiss at the feeling of the liquid on your cuts and try to pull away, to no avail. Your legs feel like jelly in his grip.

“That hurts,” you whine. 

“It can’t be helped,” he tells you, holding your leg firmly as he scrubs the sore bottom of your feet. Any sensitivity you had there is overruled by the soreness and pain from running, from the stinging aches that remain in your cuts. “I have to clean every cut or you may get an infection.”

He sets your leg down and lifts up the other, and you cringe before he even begins to move. You can’t help but whimper as he scrubs your leg, and the helpless stings of pain only increase when he moves on to your arms.

“Please,” you say, feeling low, nearly flattened. “I can’t… I can’t take this.”

He pauses, and the seemingly genuine concern in his eyes (it’s not, you remind yourself, it’s not--you think of the shop and the pizza place and the old man cutting his wife’s food, that was concern, that was care) has you feeling sorry for yourself.

“The stinging will go away in a few minutes. You chose to run away, you can certainly deal with this minor consequence.” He retains his grip on your upper arm and he swipes the sponge across your shoulders, briefly pushing the fabric aside as he does so. He pauses when he sees the blooming fingerprints on your shoulders, but says nothing.  You wonder if those men will survive the night.

There’s a a cut, thin and long, dragging from your collarbone down across your chest. He dips unceremoniously below the gown, touching you in a spot he normally avoids. The feeling of him so close, touching you--not quite on your chest, but close enough--only intensifies your humiliation. You whimper again and try to pull away, but his grip offers no room to move.

“I can’t--” You don’t finish. Your throat is so tight and you hate it, you hate that you can never talk about anything with him, never argue with him without clamming up with tears and a thick throat.

You bring your hands up to your hair, tugging on it until it prickles. Your breath starts to come in short bursts, your chest having as you pull on your hair and will yourself to be anywhere but here. For a flashing moment, you wish you’d never tried to escape. If you didn’t, you’d be getting ready for bed right now. Things would be--not okay. Never okay. But you wouldn’t be here, on this table, cold and stinging and in pain and utterly despondent from having your failures shoved in your face. But then you remember that if he’d never kidnapped you, you wouldn’t have had to try to escape in the first place, and the wish fades.

He remains silent, and instead simply keeps a steady, firm grip on your upper arm until your breath slows, until you can control yourself. Your skin feels at once numb and prickling in anxiety and adrenaline and emotions coursing through you.

Overhaul gives your arm a squeeze that is, perhaps, meant to be reassuring. “Are you suitably recovered?

You nod. Your stomach feels sour. You want to ask if you’re done, if you can just go sleep or get sent (you dread the idea) to solitary confinement or whatever it is he has planned in the wake of your escape. Anything would be better than this room and this soft, thin gown and his bright blue surgical gloves and your failure hanging in the air.

He extends his arm out and you pause for a moment before you grasp it, holding tight as you get off the table and stand on wobbly legs. You’re loathe to touch him, but you’re even more loathe to fall flat on your face on the hard floor.

He speaks before you get a chance to ask if you can change out of the medical gown.

“Now, we’ll go to the bathroom.”

Your knees suddenly feel like they might drop out from under you. “The bathroom?”

He nods, and pulls himself away from your weak grip as he begins walking towards the door. You follow without thinking, pausing when he stops to slide his medical gloves into the trash before slipping on another pair.

“We’re not finished here,” he tells you, and you swear his voice is almost giddy as he turns his head to meet your questioning face. “I told you earlier, we’re going to clean your mouth out.”

He can’t mean--

You take a step back, and your knee buckles. He’s quick--he catches you before you fall, but doesn’t let go. His pulls you upright and pulls you along. Your legs have no choice to walk--walk or be dragged--and you struggle for words as he leads you out of the clinic. Before you know it, you’re back in your room (familiar, warm, the same as it ways this morning) and led swiftly into the attached bathroom.

He pulls you in far enough that he’s able to shut the door behind him, trapping you inside. As if you wouldn’t be trapped by his mere presence. For a moment you wonder if he was bluffing, trying to scare you into submission, but by the time you take another breath he’s running the sink water and tearing into a new box of bar soap.

Your voice catches as you finally speak up. “You--you can’t be serious.”

“What makes you think I’m not serious?” He doesn’t even face you as he speaks. Instead, he turns on the tap and fills a paper cup with water before setting it on the sink’s edge. Next comes the bar of white soap, which grows slick underneath the water. He turns off the tap and lets the excess water drip off, before turning to you, soap bar in hand.

“Open your mouth.”

Your lips press together automatically, and you shake your head. No, no, and no. This isn’t happening.

He sighs, and again the feeling that you’re annoying him creeps under your skin. Why does it bother you that you’re annoying him? It shouldn’t bother you at all, but somehow you feel a pang of regret at how much has changed in less than 24 hours. 

“If you don’t open your mouth willingly, I will open it for you.” He takes a step closer, but your legs feel heavy now, rooted to the spot. It isn’t like there’s anywhere you could run, anyway. “I don’t want to do that,” he continues, voice slightly softened. “Cooperate and open your mouth.”

What choice do you have? You could protest, you could argue, you could leap into the bathtub and make him fight for what he wants. You could keep your mouth shut tight and force him to find a solution. But he is stronger than you, in more ways than one, and he would get his way in the end.

So you make the only choice available to you. Your entire mouth shakes and seems to fight against you as you slowly open your lips in compliance. You feel stupid, standing here with your mouth hanging open.

You can’t reflect on the feeling for long, as he wastes no time in shoving the bar inside your open lips. You can’t help but whimper at the intrusion, but he doesn’t let up and begins methodically scrubbing at your tongue. At first, there’s no taste--then the built-up slick of clinical soap makes itself known, and you take advantage of the soap slipping out of your lips to press them together again, denying him entry.

“Open,” he orders, soft and firm.

And you do, heaving your shoulders in an unreleased whimper. What else can you do but listen? He continues to scrub, this time moving the bar into the side of your mouth to scrub at your teeth. The clammy, greasy feeling of soap coating your teeth makes you curl your wide open lips downward. You must look ridiculous, in all respects, lips gaping in an unpleasant frown as your captor mercilessly soaps the inside of your mouth.

“Do you not like the taste?” His eyes glance over at your frown, and the mockery in his tone is more than blatant. 

“Uhh-uhh,” you mumble, open-mouthed, shaking your head. The position you’re in--Overhaul scrubbing into your mouth, your shaking body, the dim feeling of your bruises and cuts from earlier--makes you feel so painfully exposed. So painfully helpless.

He hums and rests the soap against your tongue. Before you can attempt to move your tongue, lessen the feeling of the taste of the soap against it, he gives you a command.

“Bite down.”

Your teeth sink into the soft bar, keeping it in place, and your whimpers grow stronger at the humiliating order you’ve just obeyed. Could you sink any lower?

You watch him through tear-brimmed eyes as he moves to stand in front of you. You know what’s coming before he even speaks and when he does, it’s no surprise.

“Have I ever hurt you?”

Back to this, again.

You shake your head, mumble around the soap: “No.”

“Are you capable of being on your own?”

You hesitate, and he merely jumps to another question, one far more pointed.

“Have you held a single job for longer than a year?”

You want to protest, but any attempt at complicated speech is marred by the soap--the weight of it, the taste, and your need to keep it steady in your mouth.

“No,” you admit, hating the feel of the bar as your lips press against it with the effort of speech.

“Would you have been evicted if I didn’t pay off your debts?”

“Yes.” Tears sting at your eyes. You want to wipe them away but you’re afraid you’ll get soap in them, somehow.

“Are you responsible enough with money to hold a job, maintain an apartment, and buy yourself the necessities for life without someone else stepping in?”

The soap somehow tastes even more bitter. “No, I can’t.” Your tongue pushes up against the soap at this, and you resolve to keep it to one-word answers only.

“If we didn’t intercept your little outing, would you have attempted to throw up at that restaurant today?”

You shake your head, but it’s a lie, and you know it’s a lie--and he knows it’s a lie. So you nod, weakly. “Mm-hmm.”

“Have I been feeding you healthy meals? Have I been ensuring that you don’t engage in disgusting self-destructive behaviors?”

He has, but that’s not--your mind wants to argue, but you’re so tired and sick and your stomach hurts and the taste of the soap is too much. So you nod, instead.

He nods in response, and you pray that he’ll take the soap out and end this. Instead, he lifts your chin with a single finger, making you keep eye contact as he speaks.

“Do I take care of you?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your words garbled around the wet soap bar. He releases your chin and it’s these words, this final question, that make you break entirely. Your shoulders ache from bruises as you cry, hunching over slightly and watching as some drool-laden soap droplets fall on the floor. “Yes, yes, yes,” you repeat, mechanically, crying around the bitter soap that’s digging into your front teeth.

Satisfied, he takes hold of the bar and waits for you to release it, then tosses it with ease into the trash. You blubber and spit, only succeeding in releasing a trail of soapy drool down your chin. Your tears are hot and stinging as they roll down your cheeks. You open your mouth, you try to say something, but all that comes out is soft cries punctuated by your attempts to spit out the soapy film.  

“Look at you,” he murmurs, bringing a gloved hand up to your cheek and wiping at the tears. “My poor thing. You can’t even speak. You can’t even articulate yourself. How could you ever hope to make it on your own?” His words are soft and cruel and you merely cry harder, humiliated and helpless.

Your throat is sore. Your stomach hurts. You want your warm nightgown on. You want to be in bed. You wish your stomach didn’t hurt so much from eating junk. You wish you weren’t covered in cuts and bruises. You wish you’d just enjoyed the garden and went back inside. You wish you’d never done this at all. You’re so stupid. You’re so stupid.

And you finally say so, all of it, blubbering, bits of soapy drool dribbling out of your mouth as you cry and admit your faults out loud.

After your wrought-out apology dissolves into meaningless whimpers, Overhaul finally grabs the glass of water he set on the edge of the sink, and you gratefully swish the lukewarm liquid with earnest. You lean over the sink and spit, body trembling, then fill the cup again and repeat the gesture again and again to get rid of every bit of white soap stuck in your mouth. Even as you spit, you realize that the taste isn’t going to be completely gone anytime soon--it’s stuck in your mouth like a bad memory.

You jerk when his hands are suddenly on your back, rubber gloves sliding up and down the thin medical gown covering your cold, helpless body. But he merely keeps rubbing, gentle and soothing, while you swish and spit, and cry and cry.

His hands leave your back only to grab a washcloth from the built-in shelves across from the toilet. You watch as he wets the cloth and you stand silently, allowing him to wipe up the drool and soap from your chin, your neck, even a bit on your chest where it dribble-dropped downward.

When you’re all cleaned up, he fills up a cup with mouth wash and silently hands it to you. You gratefully swish it for as long as possible before spitting it into the sink. The soap taste is still there, but lessened somewhat by the overpowering mint of the mouthwash. He gestures to your toothbrush and you pick it up, and begin mechanically brushing your teeth, stopping when the 2-minute timer flashes on the bottom. You instinctively grab your floss without having to be told and make quick work of that, too.

He opens the door to the bathroom, but gestures for you to wait. You do, standing numbly, wishing that he let you have a mirror so you could see your own state. But he doesn’t, and you can’t, and so you wait until he returns with a bundle in his arms.

It’s your pajamas. A soft, pink nightgown--he didn’t pick the soft blue one, tonight, and you’re grateful to avoid any reminders of the medical gown you have on--with matching socks and underwear. You nod and accept the bundle meekly. He turns around and you make quick work of the medical gown, tossing it in the trash yourself before you get dressed for bed.

“M’done,” you mumble, though you quickly realize speaking makes the lingering soap taste stronger. You follow him silently out of the bathroom and into your bedroom, which is just as you left it that morning. The only thing different is you. Subdued, humiliated, helpless.

Overhaul pulls the cover on your bed and you sit down, numb and chastened. You pull your legs up and tuck them under the soft comforter. You’re forcing yourself into the routine you’ve been following for the past few weeks, but the secret thrill you once had of obeying with ulterior movies is no longer there. It’s been replaced by a heavy stillness, the knowledge that you failed in more ways than one. The occasional roll of your stomach reminds you that the night may not be over, bedtime routine be damned.

But you ignore it for now, and you lean your head back on your pillow as he pulls the comforter towards your shoulders, tucking you in. Rather than leave immediately, he sits next to you on the bed, looking down at you with an obsessive, possessive expression in his eyes.

You force down an instinctive flinch when he suddenly begins to stroke the top of your forehead, moving up to pet your hair softly. His gloves are gone. While not completely new, it’s rare--rare enough that the feeling of his bare fingers is still an unusual sensation.

You close your eyes. It usually makes him leave faster. Your heart begins to pound as you hear him stand, as you sense him leaning in, as you feel the ghost of his breath against your face.

“Sweet dreams. We’ll start fresh in the morning.”

What a silly thing to say, you think. Your dreams are never sweet anymore.