#i wanted to practice his dumb hair and figure out his outfit

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

If Steve behaves during workouts over the next few days, he can’t be blamed. He’s trying to prove to his coaches and the team’s medical staff that he’s not rushing a return to the ice, but that he’s ready to lace up and get back out there. He bargains his way out of the full plastic face protection mask, opting for a full cage instead. By Sunday, he’s participating in the last full team practice before they pack up to leave Chicago, keeping up with his teammates despite how much he felt he’d been struggling just days earlier.

“You holding up?” Max asks, loudly, as he skates past where a few of the team doctors are sitting, observing and chatting.

“I’m fine,” He answers, and takes a shot, scoring past their goalie who had belly-flopped in the opposite direction of the puck. 

A few of his teammates ‘whoop’, while the goalie slams his stick against the ice, shoving a glove off his hand to flip Steve off, before getting back to work. 

Steve just snorts and skates back toward Max, holding his arms out. “Would you like to do a formal exam? I promise I’m good. I feel good.” He swears, winking at the redhead, scrunching up the side of his face still recovering, immediately wincing. She rolls her eyes and he laughs softly at himself. “Okay, that didn’t feel good, but that’s just because I’m dumb.”

“Not dumb!” She chastises, pointing at him, and the look on her face tells him he’s about to get a scheduled lecture from the entire Party about how he talks about himself again, so he opts to skate away instead, avoiding digging a hole for himself he can’t get out of.

It’s suspiciously quiet and seemingly empty at the apartment that afternoon until Steve ultimately finds Robin lying across his bed. His clothes are scattered everywhere around her. She shoots him a sheepish smile when he drops his bag beside her and raises an eyebrow.

“I was hoping to figure out a few outfits for you to take and look hot for your date with Eddie, but then I realized I have no idea how to dress you to impress a man.” She says, flopping back into the pillows.

Steve snorts and rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that was supposed to be an insult, but, ya know…” He trails off and laughs as Robin tosses a pillow in his direction.

“You know what I mean!”

“I do,” Steve laughs, catching the pillow and sitting beside Robin, picking at the seam of the pillowcase. “If it’s any consolation, I also have no idea how to dress me to impress guys. But I also don’t think impressing Eddie is going to have anything to do with what I wear. At least I hope it won’t.”

Robin makes a gagging noise, but it’s around a little smile, and Steve rolls his eyes before laying beside her, shoving a few tops out of his way. She waits until he’s not looking at her to speak again, both of them looking at the ceiling over his bed. “I just really want this to work for you. You deserve to be happy.” 

“I am happy, Robbie. I promise.” Steve’s softer, and for the first time in a long time, he thinks he honestly means it. Robin turns her head to look at him for a second before she wiggles closer to him and rests her head against his shoulder.

“You’re going to have to actually ask him out on a date, though, you know.” She says after a few beats, which makes him laugh.

“Not if he beats me to it,” He teases, pressing a little kiss to Robin’s temple. “But yeah, I know. I think I’m getting there.”

They lay like that for a few more minutes before Robin eventually shoves herself away from him, demanding he shower before they cuddle anymore. When Steve reenters his bedroom after a hot shower, he finds Robin has paired several tops to pants and folded them together, giving him options for outfits.

“I am humanly capable of dressing myself. I’ve been doing it for nearly 30 years now, you know.” He teases, and she rolls her eyes as he towel dries his hair. He drops the towel into his hamper and tips his head, makes an impressed face. “I wouldn’t have thought to put those pants with that top though, and I think it might just work.” He adds, lifting one of the pairings Robin has come up with and setting it into his travel bag. Robin grins and holds a finger up for him to wait, dashes out of the room, and returns a few moments later with a gray cardigan. “One step too far.” He teases, taking it from her hands and eyeing it skeptically.

“Just trust me on this? You look cuddly when you’re cozy.” She insists, so he sighs and packs it away despite his reservations.

Robin haphazardly throws a few pair of underwear, three tops and a single pair of jeans into a backpack and declares she’s ready to make the trip. 

It’s an early call at the airport on Monday, and Steve’s mostly still asleep as Robin slips into the window seat, pulling him along with her. He uses her shoulder, in combination with a neck pillow, as a headrest to sleep the flight away and he wakes up to his ears popping on the dissent, feeling a little more rested.

The players travel from the airport to check in at the hotel, then a few make their way to do tourist-y things around the city. Steve and Robin tag along, but end up breaking off from the group a few bars in along Broadway. They settle themselves into a corner and share a fishbowl sized concoction, and Steve texts Eddie to let him know they’ve arrived safe and sound and have already hit the town.

Eddie responds to the photo of Steve and Robin sipping from straws in the same bowl with a selfie Gareth took. Eddie’s in the background, using what looks to Steve like an oversized inhaler. He’s up in an instant, making his way around the woman performing on the small stage and outside onto the street where it’s not as noisy so he can call Eddie.

“That was fast,” Eddie teases, and he sounds fine, which confuses Steve further.

“Are you okay? What’s with the inhaler?” He asks, and Eddie’s quiet for a beat.

“Oh, no, Stevie, that’s not a… it’s a nebulizer. I was laying down vocal tracks earlier and it helps keep me from losing my voice.” He explains, then quickly follows up. “Oh my god, did you call because you were worried? That’s so… god, you’re adorable, you know that?”

Steve feels himself blush, and is grateful that they’re on a voice call and not a FaceTime, because Eddie would only tease him more if he could see the shade of red he’s sure his face is. “Shut up, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“You’re so fucking sweet, Stevie.” Eddie’s voice is like butter, his charm on maximum, and Steve bites at his lip as he listens. “How long are you in town after the game?”

“Back to Chicago on Thursday for two days, then we hit a road stretch for most of next week.” Steve answers, and Eddie hums. “What’s that for?” Steve asks, genuinely curious.

“Means I’m trying to figure out if I want to hit the road, or wait until you’re back in Chicago for more than two days to make the next trip to see you.” 

Steve takes a deep breath at that, smiles, and lets out a huff of air that sounds like a light laugh. “I’m going to go back into the bar and finish this fishbowl, then we’re going back to the hotel to swim and sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow, after the game, okay?”

“I thought you didn’t drink before games?” Eddie asks, and Steve tries not to melt at the details the other remembers.

“I’m not taking the ice tomorrow, and I… usually just have a cut-off time. When we first met, I was worried I would say something stupid if I started drinking and end up scaring you off.” It’s more honest than he intends to be, more information than he means to share, but he doesn’t regret telling Eddie, and he isn’t embarrassed.

“I think we both know it takes more than that to scare me off, sweetheart.”

Steve’s pretty sure he stops breathing at the term of endearment and he can’t tell if Eddie is freaking out or proud of himself, because he doesn’t say anything for a moment before he gives a quick goodbye and hangs up, leaving Steve standing on Broadway, looking up at the “Tootsies Orchid Lounge” sign, trying to keep himself from spiraling.

Some time must pass, then, before Robin comes out to check on him, gently lays a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Dude, you okay?”

“He, uh. He called me sweetheart.” 

“Good grief,” Robin mumbles, resting her head on Steve’s shoulder. “I thought he broke up with you or something.”

“Kinda hard to break up with someone you aren’t dating, Robbie.” Steve shakes his head in an effort to pull himself together.

“Whatever you say,” she tugs his arm, then, leading him back into the bar where they finish their drink and head back to the hotel. 

~~~

Open mouth, insert foot. The Eddie Special. The one thing becoming a constant during his conversations with Steve.

“What did you call him?” Jeff asks around a smile after Eddie hangs up the phone, grabs the nearest throw pillow, and shoves his face into it.

“I’m pretty sure he said sweetheart.” Gareth provides in the least helpful moment he’s ever been to Eddie, confirming he had, indeed, used a fucking pet name while speaking with Steve.

“How did he take that?” Jeff is softer, no longer following the initial taunting route he seemed to be heading down, likely sensing Eddie’s unraveling.

“I don’t know, I think I blacked out.” He speaks into the pillow, muffled, before he drops it into his lap and stares blankly at the wall.

“Well, me and Jeff’ll be there tomorrow. We can try to prevent any catastrophes within our capabilities?” Gareth smacks Jeff’s leg, who nods in agreement, and Eddie sighs and throws himself back into the studio sofa.

The next day, they get to Bridgestone Arena early enough to grab snacks and not run into too many people who recognize them before filling into their suite. Eddie settles into his seat, comfortable with the temperature now that he knows how to dress for a game. 

The teams eventually make their way to the ice, and Eddie zeroes in on Steve until he skates into the Blackhawk’s box after the anthem.

This time around, Eddie manages to follow a good deal of what’s happening. He’s learned a lot about the game since his first attendance, and he finds it easier to track the puck now than it had seemed previously. He watches as the Preds make an early goal, how the Blackhawks are quick to respond by securing their own point. Watches as a play goes sideways, and a Blackhawk player ends up flipping over another player, then lays on the ice in just the right position to know something is wrong, that he’s hurt.

Play doesn’t stop for long, and when things pick back up, Steve takes the ice. Eddie snaps his fingers between Jeff and Gareth once before he’s on his feet, cheering. The boys join him, and soon, most of the Arena is giving Steve a standing ovation. Steve, though, is facing the direction of Eddie’s suite and gives a little salute before dropping into position, ready for the puck to hit the ice. 

~~~

When the backup forward goes down, Steve springs to his feet from inside the visitors box. An attempt at goal had drawn everyone near the Blackhawk’s net. A Predator had dove for the puck, and things went south fast. Watching from the sidelines was like watching in slow motion, as the med staff checked in on everyone involved and eventually carted the forward off the ice to be evaluated.

Behind him, the coaches evaluate their options as Steve checks his laces and lifts his helmet before tapping the coach's arm.

“I got this,” he promises, settling the helmet over his head and securing the cage over his face. With just a moment of hesitation, the coaches agree and Steve skates to center ice.

He bends down, waiting for the Predator’s forward to join him in their wait for the ref with the puck, but cheers erupt from one end of the arena and slowly, the noise wraps around the room. 

Steve straightens to look around, taking in who exactly was cheering. Fans in both Blackhawks gear and Predators are standing together, cheering and clapping. He glances around, confused before he notices a few of the players on both sides of the ice are also clapping toward him. That’s when it clicks, that all the noise is for him. 

He turns to where the cheering originated, zeroes in on the curly hair over a jersey with his number on the sleeves and he can’t help but grin. Steve gives a little gesture in Eddie’s direction, before skating back to the center ice with the Predator’s forward.

“Welcome back, Harrington.” The other forward says, just as the ref drops the puck and the game picked back up.

~~~

The Blackhawks don’t win the game, but it feels like the cement is drying around the memory in his mind as he showers after the game. He’d played well, even scored a goal, but the Predators manage to get a buzzer-beater in at the last minute after tying things up near the end of the third. But the cheering when he stepped back out onto the ice was an experience he’d never forget.

Eddie texts Steve the address to a brewery in East Nashville, and that’s where he and Robin head as everyone else makes their way into the city. 

Upon arrival, Robin b-lines across the parking lot for the door, but Steve spots a thin trail of smoke that catches his attention. He follows it, smiles when it turns out to be exactly who he expected. Eddie’s propped up against the side of the building, foot resting flat as his back against the wall behind him, smoking a cigarette.

“Kinda figured I’d find you at the end of the smoke trail.” Steve teased softly, catching Eddie’s attention. 

“Looks like I’ve been caught, then,” Eddie laughs, and takes a long, final drag from the cigarette before putting it out into the ash urn. He blows the smoke away from Steve, and keeps a smile on his face. “Wanna grab a drink? I had the guys order appetizers, but we can get real food, too, if you want?”

“I actually….” Steve hesitates, and Eddie raises his eyebrows. Steve considers dropping it, just agreeing to go inside and eat and have a good time with everyone. But then Eddie’s face softens into a little smile and Steve’s chest warms. “Fuck it. Do you want to grab dinner tomorrow? Just the two of us?”

Eddie visibly blue screens. There’s no emotion on his face as he watches Steve before him for a moment, then breaks out into a grin. “You asking me on a date, Harrington?”

“I am.” Steve nods, grins back at Eddie, watches as he twists a curl around his finger and pulls it in front of his face, twisting his body so his arm is propped against the wall, facing Steve head on.

“I think I would like that, yeah.” Eddie agrees. Steve smiles, feels like something has lifted between the two of them, and holds his hand out. Eddie tangles their fingers together and lets Steve pull him into the brewery.

Robin seems suspicious as they enter, but drops her interest as they sit at the end of the table across from one another, sipping on beers and munching on nachos and mozzarella sticks, chatting about the game and the new music the band is recording. 

And if Steve manages to keep his composure when Eddie hooks an ankle around his own under the table, it’s because he’s an adult and not a high schooler tripping over his own feet to impress the guy across from him, and totally not because he knows the entire rest of the table would have a field day if he got flustered by the littlest touch.

[chaoticloving]

my muse

harry styles x reader (masterlist)

summary: a lil blurb about the important moments leading up to Harry's wins, and little after <3

warnings: implied smut

As they’ve grown up and gotten use to being in the spotlight, Y/n and Harry have learned to enjoy teasing their relationship to the public. They still play dumb in interviews, even when the evidence is stacked against them, but as Y/n and Harry get older, they start to not care about the publicity of relationship.

One of those ways was going to events together. Ever since they've gotten invites to these types of things, their plus one has always been each other; whether it was the grammys or the oscars, they always were right there to support each other.

Tonight was no exception.

Harry was fidgeting with the rings on his figures as they were in the limo, waiting in the queue to get out and walk the carpet. He lifted up the ring on his left ring fingure to reveal a tattoo, one that matched the one on Y/n's same finger.

Y/n noticed Harry’s gazed on the ink and nudged him. “Don’t tell me that’s the one tattoo you regret.”

Harry’s smiled and shook his head. “Never would regret marrying you.” The inked band was delicately done, matching their actual wedding bands perfectly. Y/n took off one of her rings to reveal her matching one too, putting her hand next to Harry’s larger one.

“You’re going to do great tonight.” Y/n reassured. She squeezed his hand three times, a simple thing they did for each other just as a way to show their love. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They were blinded by the lights before they got the knock of the window from Harry’s security team. For shaded windows they did nothing to stop the bright flashes.

"Ready?" Y/n nodded and slid her ring back on. She followed Harry out of the limo door and put on a smile.

"Harry! Harry! Look this way!"

"Y/n! Harry! Are you two official?"

"Harry! Are you going to go home with Y/n?"

They smiled as they posed for the cameras. After nearly ten years of the "are-they-aren't-they", you'd think they would get over it.

"Hey." Y/n whispered into Harry's ear. "You're doing a costume change right?"

"Yup."

“Want me to give you a pre-celebration present?” Y/n whispered, her voice airy and breathy against her husbands ear.

Harry gulped, not sure if she’s implying what he thinks he is—he’s been caught out too many times with misinterpreting her comments. “What-ah, would that be?”

“Head.”

He gave a flashy grin for the camera.

“Thank you for the pictures but I think it’s time we should go.” Harry announces to the photographers and interviewers lined up. He causes a commotion, but when does he not? He doesn’t care as he grabs Y/n’s hand.

~~

“I think that’s a new record.” Y/n jokes as she fixes her lipstick. “Get off from the couch and fix your hair. You look like a mess.”

“That was so good.” Harry practically moaned, still in his post orgasm high. “That thing you did with your tongue was truly some really great work.”

Harry was spread out on the couch of a small yet lavish room for performers of the night. It had a vanity, bathroom and small kitchen area inside--Harry thought he could live here.

“Nothing fancy.” She mumbled, but Harry wasn't yet done.

“And your hand groping my thighs and balls.” Harry gasped. "So good."

“Styles!” A loud bang, a distinct one at that. “Put your clothes on! I don’t want another Munich situation!”

Harry’s dazed was cut short by tripping over his old outfit—didn’t even take it fully off before Y/n went down on him—and racing to the hanger with his outfit for the evening. He knew that angry pounding on the door, and he did not want Jeff to see him naked again.

Y/n was giggling as she fixed her hair and got some spray to keep her makeup in place. "Stop ya laughin'"

Y/n shook her head as she got up from the vanity chair and opened the door, peeking her head out. "Jeff."

"Y/n." Jeff sighed and stifled a laugh. "Is he getting dressed?"

"Yup."

"Alright, just be out in five. Make sure he looks good."

"Will do."

She shut the door and was met with Harry tucking in his shimmery tank and buttoning the pants. Y/n smiled as Harry looked up, causing him to grin.

"Wha?" Harry grinned, walking over to his love. "Want another round? Could pay ya back."

"As much as I would love that I think Jeff is ready to kill us." They giggled as they lightly kissed, foreheads resting on each other.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

~

"And the grammy, for Album of the year goes to..." Trevor Noah held his breath as he opened the envelope, smiling as he read out the card. "Harry Styles, Harry's House!"

Applause rang out as Harry cupped his face with his hands and then reached over to topple onto Y/n--who was frozen with shock--engulfing her in the tightest hug they've had since their wedding.

"I-I won." He voice was shaky, breathless despite sitting. "They called my name right?"

They broke apart, staring deep into each others eyes as Y/n nodded, eyes watering. "Yeah, go accept your award!”

She pushed Harry away, towards the stairs and the award. Lizzo was filming their hug and kept her camera focused on Y/n a bit longer before she flipped it round and filmed her face.

"Shit." Harry's voice rang out. "Thank you for this award. Since it's a big one, I want to explain this album a bit more."

Harry cleared his throat before he spoke. "I wrote this album for my person. Someone that has been by my side for everything in my life. All of the big things and all of the things that caused me to go to my lowest, you've been there, and I hope you could tell by this album."

Harry looked at y/n directly, something that was not missed by the room.

"I always keep you in my heart, especially when I can't be with you physically. Writing about you makes it seem like you're there right beside me. And I want you to know how much I love you when we are apart, when you can't reach me or my mum won't let me hang up the phone."

Harry sighed, not sure what to say next, except for one thing.

"For family." Harry lifted up the grammy and applause rang out. He was escorted off the to the side of stage, making sure to catch one last look at his muse. He didn't want to be apart from her for much longer. He wanted to go spend time with her, but of course, photos needed to be done.

He tried to reach for his phone in his pocket every now and then, wanting to call his mum and sister, tell them the big news even though he knew they would be home watching it on their telly—no doubt they were calling Y/n as he poses for some updates on the boy—but he left it with y/n who no doubt was taking a bunch of photos of herself while waiting.

Harry ment everything he said about his family, his with his wife and child, even the little critters that he wasn't too sure of at first; Harry just couldn't believe his life was going this perfect.

Once he was finally released from the photographers hold, Harry ran back to Y/n, making a couple wrong turns along the way, but eventually running in to the girl he was looking for in a small room outside of where they were filming the show.

"I won!" Harry's voice broke, nearly in tears again as Y/n's head whipped from who she was talking to--Adele, who quickly excused herself with a smile-- to embrace her love.

"I'm so proud of you!" They squeezed each other until both could hardly breath. "You deserved both of those grammys, love."

She started peckering a bunch of kisses all over his face, hands now squeezing his so squeezable face. "What do you want to do now? Go back to the show? After party? I got us invited to a couple so you can pick-"

"I kind of want to head home." Harry admitted. "Spend some time with you and the babe. That's all I want now."

Y/n smiled, giving him one last kiss on his little stumble. "Not even sex?"

Thats caused Harry to smile, kissing her cheek. "As enticing as that sounds I think it would be best to keep that for the morning." Harry sighed, starring into the mother of his child, his wife, his love, his one and only's eyes. "I love you. More than anything I could describe."

"You're going to make me cry." Harry's own eyes started to water, kissing the corner of her eye. He pulled her down the hall, to the back, where he organized a limo to be able to drop them off home whenever they pleased. Now seemed like a good time.

Harry came, saw, and conquered. Now, all he wanted to do was spend time at home with the ones who mattered.

[kinkandkreep]

TokRev Boyos Dad-canons:

Baji-boo:

Learned how to be a dad from observing his mom be a mom

I think the consensus is that Ryoko is a major contributing factor for Baji ranking number 1 out of the best boyfriends to have in TokRev

I would venture a guess and say that though Baji was influenced by his mother’s parenting, he knows that she didn’t do a perfect job, as with any parent, and he intends to make up for where she might have stumbled

Now, I’ma keep it trill wit y’all, I ain’t read Letter from Keisuke Baji and don’t know much about it 😭

BUT from what I’ve gathered, we do see more of Baji and his mother’s interactions

I think overall, Baji is a very chill dad

He’s one who never really gave deep thought about the prospect of having kids, but figured that if it happened, it happened

Initially, Keisuke does have some insecurity concerning whether he could be an adequate father or not

But once the time actually arrives, he’s very self assured and confident in his ability to be a great parent

Contrary to popular belief, Keisuke isn’t stupid stupid, he’s just book dumb

He’s got good common sense and reasoning skills, and he’s very well aware that both pregnant women and babies are fragile 

So, he acts accordingly 

Keisuke tries his best to be gentle during your pregnancy and after 

He insists upon doing practically everything for you 

He doesn’t like to dwell on it, but he frets a lot during the whole process

Everything is liable to harm you and your baby and the thought makes him simultaneously furious and so anxious he can at times visibly vibrate from feeling both emotions

You do a fair amount of damage control during and after your pregnancy, even though you’re technically the one meant to be hormonal and sensitive

Keisuke, perhaps surprisingly, doesn’t really cry when you give birth

His eyes more so water really hard but no tears fall

He’s actually really supportive and calm throughout the birthing process (which he insisted on being present for) and once your little bundle of joy has been safely and successfully brought into the world, he’s immediately overtaken with such a sense of happiness and fulfillment and the urge to protect that he’s slightly taken aback

Rather randomly, he looks great in all the hospital pictures taken the day your baby is born 🙃

I could honestly see Keisuke having either a boy or a girl in about equal measure, so I’ll let you decide what the two of you have

Either way, he adores his child

He’s kinda like Mikey, in that he can be firm but also very accommodating with his kid(s)

Is somewhat familiar with Cocomelon and prays your child never has to be 🙃 (mostly for his own sanity)

Bubble Guppies is his stuff though

Coos at your child all the time

Like everytime he sees them he’s just overwhelmed with this desire to make cute noises at them 😂

Would beat anybody up who tried to make fun of him for it though *coughMIKEYcough*

Takes care of the majority of baby related and household duties for quite some time after you’ve given birth

He just wants to be helpful, you’ll let ‘im won’t you? 🥺

He tries not to coddle you though, since he knows you’re not like, bedridden, just recovering

His favorite baby cartoon is probably Paw Patrol and his favorite pup is, perhaps predictably, Chase (though he does also have a soft spot for Zuma) 

MATCHING. OUTFITS. 

Keisuke loves to match outfits with his baby

And like he’s not normally a fashion focused guy, like Mitsuya, but when it comes to coordinating with his little “mini me,” he really goes all out 

Of course, who would Keisuke be if he didn’t let your child(ren) play with his long, luscious locks?

A terrible father, that’s who 😤

I can see Keisuke’s baby or babies all having hair like his, and this makes for some…interesting wash days

Especially if you got temperamental 4C hair, like me

And then combine that with how thick Baji’s hair is too???

Girl, my arms hurt and I’m ti’ed just thinkin’ about it 😂

Luckily, whatever texture your hair is, Baji doesn’t mind being the one to handle wash days, once you’ve shown him the proper hair care techniques

Loves to go on outings and do different activities to engage your little one

Keisuke knows he wasn’t the most academically gifted, so he does everything in his power to make sure that your child is mentally stimulated from a young age to hopefully encourage a greater academic ability 

All that being said, Baji is a superb dad, and he believes wholeheartedly that fatherhood has changed him for the better 🙂

Draken here

[albatmobile]

The Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds Chapter 7

𓅪 After not hearing from Roy or Jason for five years, you suddenly find yourself taking in extra income as a babysitter for Roy and Jason's child.

𓅪 Rated: M | 7k  includes: bumping into Tim, arsenal and red hood “save you” from a robbery, Lian heart to heart, opening up to Jayroy, Bed sharing what more can I say?

fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist]

Chapter Seven: There is a Light | ao3 - wattpad

Once Roy leaves, Lian begs you to cook. You end up deciding to make scones so she can also have them for tomorrow.  

“Are you sleeping over again?” she asks cutely.

You chuckle, ruffling her hair a bit, “That was by accident, but no. You already have two dads; you don’t need me here too.”

“I only have one dad.”

There it is again.

“Why do you keep saying that when you have two?” you ask.

“Oh, you mean daddy?” She's looking at you like you're slow.

“Yes, dad, daddy, whatever! You have two dads, though, right?”

She gives you a tiny head tilt. “No, just one,” she startles you by holding up a singular finger directly in front of your face, “my dad.”

You push her finger away lightly with a snort, “Alright. One dad it is, then.” 

You're definitely bringing this up to Roy and Jason later. You hope in bringing it up that they'll tell you why they’d contacted you in the first place if this isn’t even their kid. All things considered, Lian looks absolutely nothing like either of them.

“You keep promising me a real tea party.” 

You know where this is going. Ever since you’d shown her videos of baristas making specialty tea drinks, she’s wanted to experience one for herself.

“What do you mean? We do have real tea parties,” you try to reason with her.

“That’s apple juice." She looks at you like you're dumb. "Maybe if I were three, I wouldn’t know the difference.”

You can’t help but guffaw, imagining a toddler Damian saying something similar. 

“You want tea?” She bobs her little head up and down at your question. “Alright, let’s go get tea.”

You’ll never say no to a quick caffeine boost, even if it is already practically dusk. That and you're still equipped in Roy’s highly questionable outfit.

You take her to the small coffee shop just down the street where you'd spent endless hours studying during your year at GSU, figuring it’d be good and cheap enough for the both of you. Lian’s content to skip beside you the entire way, humming some theme song adorably enough to bring a smile to your face. Inside, there’s a young barista behind the counter who's taking an order for a dark-haired man. Over in the back corner booth sits a group of four older gentlemen who seem to be deep in conversation.

You let Lian order when it comes time, but not before you can ask if they offer decaf. The barista nods, showing you the selection of decaffeinated tea. Lian, on her tip-toes, picks which two she wants, considering she’s probably going to want to try yours too (aka end up drinking it all, too).

Before you can finish collecting your change, your cups are set down at the pick-up counter. 

Considering all the barista has to do is pour hot water and add the tea pouch, your order comes out while the man in front of you in line is still waiting on his coffee. He silently steps back to let you grab your cups. When you turn around with your drinks, you nearly spill them all over a flustered Tim Drake. 

You gasp at the sight of him. How many years has it been?

You notice with great amusement that Tim’s less focused on the fact that he almost had two cups of boiling hot tea spilled on him and is, instead, short-circuiting at the sight of your erect nipples through Roy’s provocative shirt. 

You figured it would probably be best to leave the booty shorts at home after what happened during your last stroll in them. Instead, you elected to change into the oversized sweats Roy’d given you. 

Watching Tim eye you up and down, greedily absorbing your form into his memory, you hear Stephanie’s words ringing true in your head. You wonder if maybe some of the other things they said were true then, too...

After a few seconds have passed and he’s done taking you in with dark cheeks, he looks down at your side. 

“Woah, guess I missed a lot these past few years,” Tim says after he catches site of the little girl running in circles around you. It’s then that glances from Lian to you with a calculating gaze. “You guys look nothing alike.”

“That’s because I’m the babysitter,” you say. “This is Roy and Jason’s kid.”

“Jason has a kid?” Tim rubs at the nonexistent wrinkles on his forehead. “Guess I’ve been out of that loop for too long.”

You shrug, understanding that it’s just something that happens when you get older. 

“Supposedly, but she keeps saying she just has one dad, so who really knows.” Lian scurries off at this point to get the biggest booth in the whole store for just the two of you, but it seems empty enough that it wouldn’t be an issue. After all, it's just you, Lian, Tim, the barista and the group of guys in the entire place. “Anyway, what’ve you been up to? Have you and Bernard moved in together yet?”

“Ah, yeah. That.” You tilt your head in confusion at his words. “We broke up a little over a year ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you said genuinely. You hadn’t meant to bring up anything uncomfortable.

“It’s not like Damian keeps tabs on me enough to let you know, so,” he trails off awkwardly. 

You wince, feeling the ever-present wall still very much present between them. You think back on your past interactions with Bernard before shifting to how Stephanie's words from the restaurant ring true in this case too. 

Bernard has always had an unhealthy dose of jealousy. Maybe Tim had finally had enough. Bernard's effects still obviously linger, though, with how difficult it is to catch up with each other like how you used to.

“Well, I could reach out to you…” Is it still considered awkward? “If that’s okay, that is,” you add quickly, not wanting to overstep.

You and Tim had been so close until Bernard came into the picture. Ever since his appearance, it'd been radio silence. Each time you tried to talk to Tim, Bernard was always somehow there, swooping in with an excuse for Tim to leave.

“For sure,” Tim says with one of his signature sweet smiles, handing you his phone to put your number into. “We still haven’t gone on that photo shoot.” You're drawing a blank, unable to remember what he's talking about when it hits you- your old Red Robin fanblog.

“Oh, god. I totally forgot about those photos.” You shake your head in embarrassment, remembering how you'd shown Tim your ass-shot collection of Red Robin. “I haven’t really been out since then, to be honest.” 

You’d mostly been preoccupied with graduating, getting a job and paying bills. You've been so concentrated on maintaining financial stability that everything else somehow finds its way to the back burner. Anything to avoid the burden your parents have placed upon you.

“Not a Red Robin fangirl anymore?” He looks at you doubtfully.

"Please," you laughed, “the more I’m coming into contact with these vigilantes, the less I'm enjoying the comics."

“Ah.” He smiles lightly, causing his deep blue eyes to crinkle. "They say never meet your heroes, right?”

You laughed again, “Seriously.”

“Hey!” Lian calls your name. You look over to see her waving at you. “Bring your dad over here.”

You and Tim burst out laughing and offer him a way out of it. “I think he’s got a paper to work on, Lian. Tim has to get going.” Tim's carrying his backpack and laptop with him- typical Tim Drake study gear. “You’re still at GSU?”

“Not all of us can be super-freaky hacker geniuses like you and skip out on three years of college,” he says as he points to his Gotham State University course syllabus. “I’m graduating later this year, so I’ll get out somewhat early.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard that nickname yet," you giggle at his description of you. "I like it a lot, though.”

“Super-freaky hacker genius who’s also psychic because I do actually have a paper that’s due in,” he looks down at his silver Rolex and then back at you, “t-minus two hours? So, wish me luck!” He gives you a half hug with his computer secured in the other arm before going over and giving Lian a high-five. “See ya, cutie.” She gives him an adorable toothy grin that you can tell melts Tim’s heart. “One thing I know for sure is that nothing this sweet could’ve come from Jason.”

“Don’t I know it,” you concur.

After this, Tim leaves with a final wave. You let Lian sit to finish her tea before making to leave as well.

You make it to the threshold of the entrance when the doors burst open to reveal two unruly-looking men in long coats and hats walking in. 

It definitely looks like trouble. 

Your first thought is to just leave. You are at the entrance and everything. One thing stops you, though. A quick glance at the sidewalk outside shows a man in similar attire posted up right next to the entrance, essentially blocking it off.

You don’t hesitate to grab Lian’s hand and hightail it to the bathroom just as you see the two men unveil their semi-automatic rifles to the extremely frightened barista. 

You feel guilt settle in the minute milliseconds between the rapid beats of your heart, shifting into autopilot with only one thought: keep Lian safe.

You click the bathroom door shut as quietly as you can and turn to her tearful eyes. 

You put a finger over your mouth and ‘shh.' She repeats your action with a wobbly mouth. You give her a thumbs up and start to look around for anything you could possibly use to your advantage, just like the Waynes had taught you. You sigh, looking around, only finding paper towels, toilet paper rolls and a trashcan.

Trashcan! 

You quietly remove the top of it and place Lian into it before pressing your ear against the bathroom door. Upon placing your ear on the wood, you startle backward, nearly tripping in the process as the thugs begin to fire off a couple of rounds. You pull yourself together, using the noise to cover up the sound of you placing the lid back over the trashcan and go to the sink to grab a stack of paper towels to dump on her head to conceal her further.

You duck quickly when a stray bullet comes barreling through the door. The bouncing bullet begins to ricochet until it hits the porcelain base of the toilet, shattering part of it upon contact while jostling the tank lid on top. This is definitely something you can use.

During the next round of bullets, you use as noise to cover up the removal of the hefty porcelain lid. In the meantime, you ready yourself to smack the shit out of anyone who dares to fuck with the door… Which ends up being way sooner than you expected. 

Your heart sputters when the door handle begins to jiggle, then drops when whoever's out there begins to kick it in.

You count the seconds in between each kick and prepare to unlock the door in between them. You estimate an average of 3-4 seconds in between each and steel yourself when you unlock the lock and throw the door open. You back up just in time to miss the strong kick that's sent toward the now-opened door and smash the toilet tank lid right on top of the intruder’s familiar red helmet.

Red Hood.

By the time you realize it's him, it's too late. The lid is already shattering across his head, leaving him visibly dazed by your unexpected attack.

A man with a bionic arm complete with a crossbow frantically makes his way over to you. He briefly looks down at his partner before acknowledging you. “Anyone else in here?”

You squint at his panicked voice, wondering how he knew to ask. “Are you with the guys robbing the place?” you respond cautiously.

You’ve never seen his suit before.

“Does it look like it?” He gestures down to his obnoxious red suit, placing a gentle hand against your forehead. “You look a bit flushed. Maybe you should sit down.”

You feel your own forehead and notice that, yes, you are extremely warm. It probably has nothing to do with his ripped arm and crazy hot bionic one that leaves you captivated. Yeah, nothing…

You don’t mean to stare, but it’s truly an insane prosthetic.

“It looks like it could have a laser gun or something,” you say, biting lightly at your lower lip, nodding your head in its direction. He looks at you, then looks down at it like he’s making sure you’re talking about his arm. “You’re like Cyborg or, no, wait- Bucky Barnes.” You can’t help but internally swoon at the imagery of the Winter Solider. 

Definitely, Bucky.

“Enough drooling, kid, you’re gonna make me blush. It's just Arsenal.” He rubs slightly self-consciously at the metallic forearm currently under your inspection as you take in his name. “Now, are there any others in here?”

You sigh. You don't necessarily consider Red Hood, who's currently pulling himself off the ground, a threat. This Arsenal dude, though you don't exactly know much about him, doesn't seem to be one either. 

You hastily decide you can trust them as you hesitantly retreat back into the bathroom to pull Lian from the trash. Once she's out, you remove a stray paper towel from her hair, quickly checking her over for any injuries. To everyone's surprise, she reaches out toward the men in front of you like she's going to hug them. 

Okay, no. Nope. They may not be threats, but they're also definitely not touching Lian. You quickly hug her to your side.

“Lian, stop. We don’t touch strange men!” She looks at you like you’re crazy and attempts to reach for Arsenal again. “Lian, stop!” you chastise, wasting no time in picking her up to prevent her from trying it again. “I get you tea and this is how you repay me?” You boop her on the nose, causing her to laugh. “And you,” you point to Red Hood, “are you stalking me?”

"Woah, there," he holds up his hands defensively, “presumptuous of you to think I’d even remember you.”

"But you do," you challenge him with a gaze so strong that he has no choice but to give in to it. “How could you not?”

His partner audibly gulps, but Red Hood remains his ever-elusive self.

“Nice to see you in somewhat normal clothes, I guess.” At his admission, you cover your nipples by adjusting Lian in front of your chest. “Your kid?” He motions to Lian, who giggles at his tiny wave to her.

“Daddy!” she says, leaving you to flush again.

“Seems like she’s more yours than mine. I’m so sorry, I don’t know why she’s acting like this.” You look down at her with a look that says, ‘please be normal,’ “Lian, what is going on with you today?” 

You tickle the tip of her nose until she retaliates with attempted bites, eventually coming a little too close to actually chomping down on your finger.

Red Hood saves the day again when he reaches over to let her bite at his gloved hand. “She’s cute,” is all he says.

“Again, not mine, but thanks.” You look between the two vigilantes, then at the robbers who are tied up and knocked out on the ground. “Alright, well, nice seeing you again, and, uh,” you casually step over piles of rubble and discarded goons as you make your way toward the entrance with Lian still in your arms, “don’t follow me home. Awesome, ‘kay, bye!”

“Woah, wait there, missy.” The voice comes from the arrow dude whose name you’ve already forgotten. You’ll have to remind yourself to look up ‘bionic crossbow arrow vigilante’ later. “We can’t just let you walk off like that. There could still be trouble out there. At least save us the trouble of saving you later and let us walk you home.”

You feel like he's fucking with you, but you know nothing about him, so you aren’t exactly sure. 

With Lian constantly reaching out for him, all you want to do is get away from these two, regardless of how they’d helped you.

“It’s daylight and it’s not happening. Take a hike.” 

You sigh when you feel their bulky presence behind you as you set off in the opposite direction, hoping Red Hood won’t notice or remember, but, of course, he does.

“I think you’re supposed to be going in the opposite direction,” he chastises you playfully. Well, as playfully as he can through his voice modulator. He leans in over the shoulder where Lian isn’t perched over to warn, “Wouldn’t want to lead me on another goose chase, now would we, sweetheart?”

“Stop calling me that.” You cringe away from him and hold Lian closer to your chest.

The arrow dude, whose name still escapes you, pulls Red Hood back towards him with a commanding bionic grip. “Stop being a creep, dude,” you catch him lowering his voice to reprimand his partner for scaring you off.

You don’t want to admit to yourself how much the arm is doing it for you, but that was when you were trying to stay focused on keeping Lian and yourself safe. Now, though? Now you can't help but bite your lip at the thought of Roy’s own prosthetic arm.

Actually, now that you think about it, it seems to be the exact same color as Roy’s. You turn back with a squint to watch them bickering.

“Oh, that’s rich,” comes Red Hood’s signature robotic tone. 

You can hear them arguing now in hushed tones behind you as they try to agree on a new approach. This is how you reluctantly decide to let them trail behind you as you walk them back to Roy and Jason’s apartment. The exact same place Red Hood had attempted to drop you off after your run-in, for lack of better terms, in the alley.

When you arrive, you hope they’ll take the hint to fuck off, but they don’t. More and more, you're coming to realize these costumed-fucks are nothing like the comics modeled after them. No. Rather, they're insanely invasive.

“Thanks for the help and all, I guess,” you offer. They both look at you funny, well, you're only able to read arrow's face on account of being unable to see through Red Hood’s helmet. “Have a great day,” you say before shuffling Lian toward the safety of the apartment building.

Yes, reading comic books and experiencing vigilantes in real life are seriously two different stories. After all, you can’t just tell someone’s motive by looking at them, so why should you put any more trust into them than necessary?

“Do you need any money?”

You startle from your thoughts instantly. “Excuse me?” 

You turn on your heel to glare at the offending vigilante. It’d been the arrow dude who'd spoken.

The fuck do you look like? Charity? Besides, you had the whole thing under control… Mostly.

“I don’t know why I said that," he sputters out sheepishly, but it's too late. You're pissed. "I’m sorry,” he adds quietly.

You give them an incredulous glare, not bothering to respond as you slam the apartment building's door shut behind you. You check behind yourself once inside with a stern gaze to make sure neither are following you, but they remain exactly where they are. Whatever.

You can’t believe the audacity of these motherfuckers.

As soon as you get back to their unit, you call Roy to let him know what happened and to assure him that you’re both safe.

“That’s horrible. Who saved you?”

“Well, I mainly did,” you boast, leaving him to laugh easily. “But Red Hood and some arrow dude, too, that I don’t know.” You hear Jason cackling in the background and begin to chuckle a bit in confusion. “What?”

Jason’s voice cuts through, “Forget it, babe.”

You draw in a quick breath at Jason’s nickname, hoping your slip-up isn’t audible enough over the phone for him to be able to hear it.

“We’ll be back soon," he reassures you. "Just stay put.”

You nod in relief before realizing they can’t see you. “Sounds good.” 

You didn’t realize you’d begun to shake until you couldn’t steady your index finger enough to click ‘end.’

If you're feeling like this, how is Lian faring?

“How are you holding up? That was really scary today at our tea party.”

 “It was too loud,” she agrees by covering her ears with her hands. 

You rub gently at her tiny shoulder. “I’m really sorry. You can always talk about how you're feeling with me,” you sigh, not really knowing what else to say. “I want you to know that I will always protect you no matter what, just like today. We’re in this together." 

"We are?" she asks. 

"You helped me today, too.”

God, you really don’t know how to do this comforting thing.

“I did?” Her eyes gleam back at yours.

You think back to how her presence alone forced you into your training mindset, allowing you to keep a cool head to attack the situation.

“You kept me calm and helped me think of a plan. Plus, you followed all of my instructions by keeping quiet, which is all I could’ve asked for from you,” you say as you run your fingers through her short, inky hair. “You're as brave as Superboy.”

She beams toothily at you. “You think?”

“For sure.” You ruffle her hair lightly with a smile. “Now, do you want to help me cook dinner before your dad comes home?” You’d given up on saying ‘dads’ because she'd only correct you that she only has one dad.

“And scones,” she says as she follows you into the kitchen, where the two of you go through the motions of cooking enchiladas and chocolate chip scones. An odd combo for an odd day. 

You think about Jason and Roy and decide that it won’t be too much more trouble to make a few quiches as well. God, you spoil them. Well, anything to get your mind off of...

You know that if you feel this stressed, she must be feeling it ten times over for being so much younger. After your conversation earlier, it's clear that she understands enough about what happened to be affected by the robbery and those feelings don't just go away after one talk.

As dinner nears completion, you're taking the scones and quiches out of the oven when Lian suddenly stops and looks at you. 

“Do you think I can sit down?”

“Of course,” you say, placing the tray of scones on the stovetop to cool before taking the oven mitt off to guide her to the couch. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I feel tired.” She looks like she wants to say more and after some gentle coaxing, she does. “I feel scared and that makes me weak.”

Damn.

How old was she again?

“You’re probably feeling drained from the stressful moment we had today, but that’s totally normal.” You can’t deny the ever-present dull headache you'd acquired nor how sore your body feels after the extended release of adrenaline that now leaves you feeling empty. “And being scared does not make you weak. You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

“I think you’re brave,” she says shyly.

“Thank you.” You hear the timer buzz and you pat her shoulder. “I’m gonna go get you a plate, then we can do an early bedtime story, okay?” you yawn as you stretch and get up from the couch.

“Can you turn on Superboy?” That was her way of asking you to turn on Young Justice. You nod, grabbing the remote to turn it on. When the TV blinks to life, Speedy and Robin are on screen, followed by some girl in an odd mask with sais for weapons. “Those are my parents,” she insists while pointing at the screen, causing you to laugh.

“You and me both, kid.” 

Kids say the weirdest shit, though you can't deny that it helps bring your mood up a bit.

You get her a plate and sit down and watch the episode with her where she dozes off halfway through finishing. You discard your plates in the sink and shuffle her off to get ready for bed while you clean up.

You think she’s asleep when you get to her room and are partially hoping she is because you’re ready to drop any moment yourself, but she has a book already picked out for you. You let out a soft laugh when she sleepily forces the book into your hand. The one she picked out is a short book, it really is, but it’s so mind-numbingly repetitive that four pages in, you’re falling asleep alongside Lian.

You awaken with a snort to the sounds of pained grunting just in time for Roy and Jason to see you with drool dripping down your chin and the book page that's still stuck to your cheek. You all shoot each other questioning glances before painfully ripping the page from your skin. You yawn as you get up to place the book back on Lian’s bookcase, wiping at the remaining spit on your face.

You watch Roy limp around and shoot him a questioning glance that Jason answers as soon as you shut Lian’s door.

“It was a rough night,” Jason groans tiredly, smacking Roy on the ass, who, in turn, groans in pain. 

Your mouth drops at the sight in front of you and you quickly shut it, hoping it was before either of them could notice. You all walk, well, Roy limps, into the kitchen, where they earnestly begin digging into the leftovers you'd made with fervor.

Staring across the kitchen island at them, you can see that they're both covered in impressions of something on their faces, with spatters of dirt and blood all over their clothes, but you don’t push. If they're allowing you to see this much into whatever this is, you can only take it to mean that it’s them trying to break down their walls a bit with you. 

You refuse to jeopardize anything by overstepping.

“Us too,” you remind them gently.

The playful attitude is sucked from the air instantly. Jason’s fork stills. “How are you holding up?”

You shrug. 

It seems like a new habit of yours to run into trouble like this, but it doesn't mean you're handling it any better than before. “I was really worried something was going to happen to her and that I'd have to tell you guys that I let you down…” You're allowing yourself to be completely vulnerable with them.

They both come to your side instantly, well, as instantly as Roy can with whatever's going on with his leg, to wrap you up into their arms. You immediately allow yourself to melt in their grasp.

“You could never let us down as long as you live.”

“You truly care about her and we can see that,” Roy says, rubbing gently at your back.

“Of course, I always want to do right by you and your family.” You lean your head on his shoulder, quickly realizing that it’s not metal. Hmm. You attempt to play it cool, but you must’ve had a moment of hesitation at the contact that Roy interprets as rejection and goes to pull away. You're having none of this, though and pull him back before continuing where you’d left off. “I told her that today, too. I want to be able to protect her in any way I can.”

You really mean it after all they’d both done for you over the years. Even if they'd disappeared for so long, it doesn’t negate all the other times they and their families had been there for you when your own wasn’t.

Roy whispers your name, “You have no idea what it means to hear that from you.”

You blush at his sincerity, further weakening when you see Jason’s eyes soften when they meet your own. 

“You’re all my family,” you try to play your words off, but it’s hard when tears have already wedged their ugly way into your throat. “No matter what, I’ll always be around.” Even if you guys weren’t always around, goes unsaid. You change the subject. “I think the closest you guys came to losing your daughter today wasn’t the robbery. It was the vigilantes who came in at the end,” you joke. “She was seriously trying to pawn herself off to Red Hood and that arrow guy.”

Roy groans as Jason cackles, “I think the other dude’s name is Speedy.” Jason barely winces at the punch Roy throws his way and, if anything, only serves to make him howl louder.

You think back to the Speedy that ran around Star City while you were living there and compared it to the dude that saved you today.

“Mmm, I don’t think so. I’ve seen Speedy and this looked nothing like him.” You short circuit, attempting to recall his bionic arm to compare to Roy’s, but it’s tilted in just a way that keeps his hand out of your line of vision. Weird. “He had a really sick arm, just like Roy’s hand,” you start slowly, watching them but ultimately don't find anything suspicious about either of their reactions.

“That’s cool,” Jason says.

“Indeed, cool,” you respond, completing your old inside joke. He smiles lightly, seeming to pick up on it instantly.

“All this attention is making lil’ ol’ me blush.” Roy leans over and kisses Jason over you, unwittingly filling your head with thoughts of what may or may not have happened in the library all those years ago.

You still aren’t buying it.

You push at Roy’s stomach lightly, mindful of whatever injury he may have, to shift him off of you. “You can kiss and smack each other’s asses all you want, but your kid ratted you guys out.”

“How so?” Roy looks nervous. At the same time, Jason tenses.

You look between them awkwardly, not understanding why they've reacted in such a way unless they know that you're about to reveal some real shit.

“She says she only has one dad still.” you raise a confident brow, challenging them to prove you wrong this time. “And she keeps saying Red Arrow and the Cheshire lady from Young Justice are her parents,” you snort, expecting them to do the same. Instead, they elect to stare at you as if you've just uncovered some crazy secret, but that can't be it… Oh, shit. They're mad you let her watch something violent. Fuck. “What? I figured because it was on Cartoon Network it would be fine for her to watch…” you trail off uncertainly.

They both seem to breathe sighs of relief.

“Oh,” Roy says simply.

“Oh?” you squint at him.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Jason mocks before answering. “She calls me daddy.”

You choke at his casual use of a word that instantly gets you hot and bothered. So much so, that you don’t even care that he completely blew past your other piece of evidence.

Thinking back now, you remember all the times Lian had technically corrected you on dad and daddy.

You fucked up.

“Daddy?” you parrot dumbly.

“Yeah, just like that,” his deep voice reverberates deeply in the small space, which appears to be closing in with each word he forms.

You gulp, feeling a steady heat growing from your cheeks all the way down to the elastic band of Stephanie’s shorts.

“Alright, guess that solves it,” you play it off and tug self-consciously at Roy’s ‘World’s Sluttiest Dad’ t-shirt.

“Do you not want us to be together or something, princess?” Roy asks suddenly, throwing you off-guard.

You shake your head quickly to dispel any further awkwardness. He's completely misunderstood your angle.

“Did I say that?” You look at them incredulously, causing them to back up with hands held up in surrender instantly. “I’m still just trying to make sense of the whole situation.”

And make sense of your unsaid past and, now apparent, present feelings for both of them.

They may have left you, but the feelings they cursed you with never did. You know one thing: you aren't going to be the first one to open up.

It's all in their hands, seeing as you're growing tired of all the mixed signals and the even greater fact that you're no homewrecker. You know deep down that your delusional self probably made this whole thing up from the start, anyway, but you still can’t find it within yourself to come face to face with this fact just yet.

It'll crush you.

You reckon that Roy's always been a flirt, so he obviously never meant anything and Jason... Well, Jason was probably just picking on you, like how he picked on Damian. He probably thinks of you as an annoying little sister. God, how you hoped your obvious crush on him would wane with the years, but it never did.

You don’t want to make an embarrassment of yourself by reading into something that's not even there.

“You seem a bit tense,” Roy tries.

“Do I, Roy?” your response is completely sarcastic. You sigh, slumping a bit, “It’s hard getting used to the hours you need me for. I keep falling asleep at the weirdest times in the weirdest positions.” You think back to the other night when you’d fallen asleep on one of their towels. Hell, even back to just a few minutes ago in Lian's room.

They look a bit guilty, realizing that they've been calling you over randomly to come babysit for an untold number of hours a night and that it's probably not fair.

They’d also conveniently forgotten you're a young woman, you probably have other shit you want to do on a Saturday night (aka tonight). According to your usual weekend plans, you should be hanging out on Damian’s yacht... Not babysitting. No offense, Lian.

“We didn’t even think about that,” Roy says. He then peers over at Jason with a look Jason seems to respond to, but you’re clueless as to what nonverbal conversation they’re holding.

“We’re sorry.” They both seem earnest enough that you start to feel bad for even bringing the complaint up.

You wave them off, seeing as it isn’t the main problem you're plighted by, but you can’t let them know that. “It’s good. I’m just stressed.” 

It's been a long week, to say the least and today's been the cherry on top of it all.

Roy nods understandingly. “You've been attacked twice. I’m sure with your past, it must be difficult.”

Jason’s eyes hold your own as he addresses you, “We’re always here to, you know, talk and stuff if you want to.”

As hard as it is to comfort someone else, it's even harder to allow others to comfort you. You've been used to dealing with shit on your own ever since you can remember.

It seems like there's so much more he wants to say but can’t bring himself to.

You wonder if he's going to mention all the time they’d spent away, but you're only met with the usual dead end. If they're going to put up a wall, you'd be stupid not to put one up, too. After all, you aren’t going to allow yourself to get hurt by them again. You'll make sure of it.

“What are you thinking about?” 

You look up guiltily at Roy, not realizing your thoughts have been so transparent.

“Just a lot happened today. I’m just tired.” Your stomach sinks at the memory of being held at gunpoint, then further when you realize you can't call your best friend to tell him about it. Damian still hadn't bothered to reach out to you since sending you a pic of what he was planning to wear on the yacht before you’d left.

It feels like a sucker punch knowing Damian really thinks those things about you and hates you enough to say them to your face. He’s been the person you’ve trusted and confided in for so long and now you're at a true loss of support.

You’d known he liked you at some point, but that still couldn’t be, right?

You bury your head in your palms with a loud sigh, “Oh my god, I’m so fucking stupid.” You still and look at Roy and Jason through the slits between your fingers and wince. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Care to share with the class?” Roy asks.

They put up a wall, you put up a wall.

It isn’t yours to share with them if they won’t share… well, anything with you.

“You have your stuff to hide, I have mine.”

Speaking of hiding, you check to see if Roy’s hand is visible enough to compare it to arrow man's, but it’s still secured behind his back, obscuring it from sight. It's suspicious, especially when there’s still no answer for his limp or their constant, post-work disheveled appearances.

“It’s not like we’re trying to hide it from you,” Jason tries to reason with you, but you don’t seem to want to listen. “If we could tell you, we would in a heartbeat. Eventually, we will,” he hesitates, looking to Roy, who seems shocked that he’s even saying any of this.

You can’t tell if it's butterflies or an uneasy warning, but your stomach spurs into a flurry of flips. It's like you're finally having an actual conversation with them and they're somewhat opening up to you. Maybe you can do the same? 

Should you, though?

Jason places a hand on the place where your thigh meets your skirt and rubs circles. You gasp at the unexpected contact, immediately shifting to Roy to assess his reaction to it. He pays it no mind, merely bringing his arm to rub up and down the expanse of your back.

“We’re all tired,” Roy says. As if on cue, you yawn loudly and sheepishly cover your mouth. “How would you like to sleep in an actual bed tonight?” 

You gawk.

This is dangerous, you realize- no, convince yourself. Really dangerous. Close quarters like this could get you in far deeper than you've ever imagined, but were you going to go through with it? Yes.

Fuck.

What exactly did they want from you? 

Damian’s cruel words reverberate around in the back of your mind as you think through your answer. Either A. Go home to your sketch apartment and twin bed, or B. Sleep in a king-sized bed with two of the hottest guys you knew and potentially ruin whatever remained of your dismal friendship.

It's B. You're picking B. Who are you kidding?

“As long as I can have a different sleep shirt,” you say, tugging at the offending fabric with distaste.

“Bet you want Jason’s shirt,” Roy pouts at you, but there's a devilish glint blatantly hidden in the depths of his verdant eyes.

You blush. “Do not.” You quickly rephrase, “I do not care either way.”

“I’ll get you a shirt, babe, unless you want my boxers too.” He’s absolutely fucking with you and Roy’s just letting him. Even going so far as to join in.

Two, well, three can play this game.

“If you wouldn’t mind.” You shrug innocently. “I’ve been going commando since I got here. I wouldn’t want to get cooties on your sheets.” 

Both of them sputter at your confession, but Roy recovers faster to howl with tears of laughter.

“Coochie cooties,” he says with visible tears in his eyes

You choke. 

You expected the joke, but hearing him losing it bad enough that Jason’s deadpan face tells him that it’s not even funny, you can’t help but join in with mirthful tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

“You guys are incorrigible,” Jason snorts, shaking his head at the pathetic sight in front of him. “When you’re done being slap-happy idiots, meet me in the bedroom.” You stop laughing immediately, noticing the way his eyes trace down the curves of your body ever so slightly. He sees you watching and watch as his Adam's apple bobs slightly before turning on his heel and muttering, “Fucking losers.”

“Well, you heard the man,” Roy says as he smacks lightly at your hip. 

You jump off the stool to follow after Jason hoping neither of them can see how badly you’re tensing up. It's way too intimate and you hate how you picture yourself waking up next to them and doing something in their bed other than just sleeping.

You feel wetness leaking onto your bare thighs and hope Roy would have the decency not to look at the decent-sized wet patch you’d left on his light gray sweats, but of course, he can’t let it go. 

“Did you piss yourself during the robbery, or are you just really happy to see us?”

You nearly dislocate your shoulders as you attempt to cover your crotch with both of your hands as red stains your bright cheeks. “I can’t even think of a response right now because I’m so disgusted,” you groan, wrinkling your nose at him but eventually giggle a bit when he starts laughing.

“Change in here,” Jason says, handing you a thin white shirt. 

The light fabric strangely reminds you of the one he'd given to you all those years ago when you'd been forced to help clean up after the party. You doubt he put that much thought into his PJ choice for you, though. You eye the cotton boxers he's included, which have a string tie for you to adjust so they’ll actually stay up around your waist. 

Sick.

You quickly go to their bathroom and snoop around to see if either of them has a skincare routine.

Negative.

You need supplies here and stat.

How do men get away with not using moisturizer?

They do, however, have a spare toothbrush that you snag and use before hopping onto their quicksand-esque mattress. You sink into it to the point you have to crawl on your hands and knees up to the pillows where they're lying. 

“This bed is a fucking workout,” you pant as you move in between their shirtless bodies. 

You take a moment to catch your breath, sitting back with your claves underneath you and resting your hands on your splayed-out thighs. Suddenly, you short-circuit as you second-guess your decision to stay when you can clearly see the dangerous looks lit up in their eyes.

You're playing with fire. Do you really want to get burned?

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Jason rolls over toward the window and turns off the light, continuing to face away. You pout slightly, taking it as rejection even though he was the one to suggest this. Roy seems to pick up on your train of thought and draws you from it. He pats at the space between them with his non-prosthetic hand to beckon you closer while his other arm remains covered by the duvet and the darkness of the room.

You hesitate once more before waddling over on your knees to get underneath the covers.

“Oh, damn!” Roy instantly jumps away as your legs make contact with his hairy ones. “Why are your legs that cold?”

Jason snorts. You see the back of his silhouette shift up and down in tandem with the noise.

“Both of you are fucking lizards or something. Am I the only one at a normal 98.6? Fuck, man.” But, eventually, read: reluctantly, he lets you steal the warmth of his leg and you fall asleep to the combined sound of their breathing.

A/N: I wrote the toilet tank lid scene then watched IT and saw it in a scene w beverly and i was like o.o

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[artificialgrinder]

THE DARK SEEPING IN (BRATZ FASHION PIXIEZ REIMAGINING) CH. 4

As days pass by, Breeana watches her sister closely, observing the obvious shift in behaviour, in order to figure out its cause.

AN: Nope! I haven't forgotten about this! Just been super busy and not motivated at the same time. But here we are! Chapter 4!

Should I make a Spotify playlist for this?

Plot twist; Cymbeline wasn't in the house when Breeana returned. Well, not exactly.

After sending two panicked texts, she received a reply.

'By the pool?'

A quick look out the window proved the text to be true.

She was home, thank fuck.

But this wasn't the end of Cymbeline's weird changes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey, Breeana!"

The youngest Devlin's attention was stolen from her current activity, bringing her back to the present – stuck in the cafeteria and sitting alone.

Here came Rob, the head of the school newspaper team.

"We're recruiting for the journalists guild. You want to join?" He smiled brightly.

She shook her head, knowing she should just say yes and overcome her social anxiety.

But Rob nodded, his smile dropping. He was sweet but knew her struggles. Breeana knew he could see it practically radiating off of her. Even walking the corridors, people hushed up when they passed her by like they knew they were doing her a favour.

Maybe Rob heard she was at Nevra's party, which wrongfully could have been interpreted as the girl coming out of her shell.

When the boy walked away, Breeana went back to what she was doing beforehand – watching Cymbeline from afar.

Her older sister was where she usually was at this hour, sitting with Cloe, Yasmin, Jade and Sasha at the far end of the cafeteria. And yet, it was obvious something wasn't right.

"I could kick her ass, guys. I could fucking kick her ass!" Cymbeline boasted, her voice the loudest in the whole room.

Since when did Cymbeline fight girls? And who was she going to fight? And why?

The girl wasn't one to be quiet, but she was never the loudest of the group either. Right now, however, she was commanding everyone's attention, practically the leader of the group.

"Nah, I want lip fillers. Don't you? Can we all get lip fillers?" Cymbeline continued with her outlandish statements.

Breeana furrowed her brows. One could say this was nothing to worry about – just another case of a girl growing up.

But days kept passing by, and Cymbeline would further prove she was shifting. Initially, she would be kind enough to nod at Breeana when passing her in the corridors.

But then she'd just straight up ignore her existence.

"I waved at you earlier," Breeana said one night, passing Cymbeline's room, "I don't think you saw me."

In what way was this a normal conversation? Especially for the Devlins.

"Sorry," Cymbeline said, not very apologetically, "was deep in thought."

And Breeana was dumb enough to convince herself that this was the truth. The next day, when she waved at Cymbeline, the bitch missed it again.

Yet, it didn't stop her from responding to others.

"Hey, Cymbeline." Dana greeted her in passing.

"Sup, you bitch?" Cymbeline replied.

"What's the theme for the Magnolia Ball? I need to find an outfit," Meygan approached, momentarily stopping in front of Cymbeline.

"No idea." Cymbeline brushed past her.

"How are preparations for the ball going, Cym'?" Someone else asked.

"Good." 

"What is going on with you?" Breeana whispered to herself, watching as Cymbeline chilled out with her friends, all five of them laying on the gymnasium floor, their heads connected in the centre of the circle, whilst the youngest Devlin busted her ass to raise funds for the ball.

"The bitch is just straight up throwing you to the wolves, Bree'," Nevra joked, browsing the many bits and bobs for sale. Most of the items were handmade – hair accessories, bookmarks, bracelets, cupcakes, pretty much a bit of everything.

"Haha, yeah," Breeana only acknowledged her customer momentarily.

"Well, you're doing a good job, honey," Nevra selected a bookmark, the one that Cymbeline worked on the most – a sun goddess surrounded by clouds of gold glitter, wings stretched out at either side of her. "Maybe this will motivate me to finish the book I'm on right now."

"Nice." Breeana nodded, taking Nevra's money.

"House of Hollow." Nevra replied, almost as if prompting a better response, "Do you read?"

"Sometimes." Breeana counted the change.

"You should read House of Hollow. It's just… it's so sick."

"Mmm."

And Nevra accepted defeat, taking her change, her new bookmark and joining her friends at the far end of the room.

Before Breeana could go back to discreetly watching her sister with her friends, two more customers approached the table.

"Oh, wow! Like, how cute," Kaycee cooed, a hint of insincerity in her voice, her twin following behind. 

"Thanks. We tried our best," Breeana rubbed her hands together, feeling like she was in the presence of a celebrity. It wasn't like this at Nevra's party. But since investing so much time on the Tweevils fucking YouTube channel…

"Oh, don't be nervous. Bow down and worship us, and you'll be safe, sweet child."

Okay, they didn't actually just say that, but if they had, Breeana would've grovelled.

"Needs more pink," is what Kaycee actually said.

"Sorry," Breeana flushed, "most of it was made by Cymbeline. And she kinda avoids pink. Christ, even dying my hair, she thought she'd never get the pink stains out from her fingernails."

Was this how normal people talked?

"Throw some magenta in there, like, next time, and we'll give you money," Kaycee said as if Breeana had just missed out on a huge business move.

The younger girl only nodded, watching the twins walk away.

"Hey, what are you brats doing just laying on the dirty floor?" Kaycee called to Cymbeline's group, stepping up to them like they were about to battle.

"Shut up, bitch. Why don't you come down and join us?" Sasha flipped them off.

"And did you just call us 'brats'? What is this, the sandbox?" Jade added, holding up a questioning hand.

"Feel blessed," Kaycee answered, taking her place on the ground, her sister by her side.

"Oh, wow. We're so humbled." Cloe retorted, playing with Yasmin's hair.

"Thanks for going out of your way to join us," Yasmin giggled.

"Enough of the childish shit," Cymbeline took over, drawing Breeana's attention again, "Did you bitches buy anything from the stall."

"Ugh, no? Since you're so clearly pinkophobic," Kaycee bitched. 

"Oh, how could we forget? Kirstee and Kaycee need their bath water to be pink, their gin to be pink, they only smoke pink lemonade elf bars!" Jade teased.

"But, like, pink is everything," Kaycee blew a kiss to her.

"God, Kirstee, you've never been so quiet. You haven't said a word since you walked in," Cymbeline leaned up on her elbows, observing the twin.

"Yeah, what's up, girl?" Sasha asked.

Kaycee hushed up now, her eyes darting to her twin, almost as if she was ready to protect her with her life.

"I'm just…." With the first words from Kirstee's mouth came a crack, "I'm pissed. I'm guessing you guys heard that I, you know…got with Zach at Nevra's party."

"Yeah. But only 'cause you told Jade, and Jade told us," Cloe replied, "Not in a gossipy way, like just a recap on the party."

"Honestly, that level of gossip I couldn't give a fuck about right now," Kirstee played with the hem of her pink blouse. "Basically…" she let out a shaking breath, "Zach kind of, like…he kinda recording the whole thing. And…fuck, he's been showing his friends, I guess."

"What?" Cymbeline was up on her knees now, face already scrunched up.

Having been tuning in, Breeana knew what was coming.

"Yeah," Kirstee sighed hopelessly, "For a few days, they kept catcalling me, like, what year are we living in? God, at least Bryce had the decency to tell me about it."

"Jesus Christ." Cloe cussed, also sitting up along with her friends.

"Girl, that's illegal. You should go to the police," Sasha added.

"Yeah, for real! That's…God, that's insane," Yasmin pleaded.

"What's the point? His whole squad has already seen it. And by the end of the week, maybe the whole school." And Kirstee's eyes glistened, Kaycee, wrapping her arms around her sister.

"Well, fuck him. If - If the whole school does see it, we got your back, bitch," Sasha tried her best. "Every girl in this school got your back."

"I mean, thanks. But," Kirstee glimpsed up at Sasha, "that won't take away from the fact that everyone will have seen it."

No, it wouldn't. And that didn't sit right with one of the group members.

Cymbeline had mostly been silent for this last part of the conversation. But even from her stall, Breeana could see how her sister's fist clenched, and knuckles turned white.

"Cymbeline, you alright?" 

"Hm?" The girl in question turned her attention away from her lunch tray and to Cloe.

"I said, 'Are you alright'? You've been really quiet since the fundraiser," Cloe spoke quietly, leaning close to Cymbeline.

The redhead let her gaze flicker away momentarily, hoping no one else was part of this questioning. Her three other friends were busy chattering to the Tweevils, trying to distract Kirstee from her panic.

She liked this, girls coming together to help each other. Sad that it had to be under these circumstances, however.

Looking back at Cloe, Cymbeline flipped her hair over her shoulder, saying, "I'm good, girl. Just can't remember if I did chemistry homework."

"It's not due today. Don't worry about it," Cloe rubbed her friend's shoulder, "but also, please don't forget about it."

"I won't," Cymbeline only murmured, playing with the mashed potato on her plate.

Cloe blinked, sensing the insincerity. But she said, "Okay, good," before letting her gaze trail away. That's when they landed on Breeana, the youngest Devlin, sitting alone at the opposite end of the cafeteria. She quickly looked away, making it obvious she had been watching the girls. 

But Cloe didn't find it weird. Her heart went out to Breeana. The girl had so many options for friends around her but never made an effort.

"Hey, Bree'!" Cloe called out.

The younger Devlin looked up from her food, her stomach dropping. She could see how Cymbeline's eyes widened.

"C'mere!" Cloe beckoned Breeana over with the wave of her hand.

Breeana could have shaken her head and rejected the offer. But this was her chance, an open invitation to get a closer look at Cymbeline in the hopes she could figure out what the fuck was going on with her.

So she stood, taking her tray with her and making her way over to the table.

Kaycee shimmied over, creating room for the younger girl. "Seriously, Breeana, if you just, like, put some pink glitter over your eyes, it would match the streaks."

"Absolutely," Breeana sat down, knowing she was under this bitch's spell and would take any advice she had to offer.

"Pink - pink - of course, fucking pink," Jade rolled her eyes. "Nah, bitch. I'm calling it; after Summer, Breeana's gonna be goth as fuck."

"Ew." Kirstee scrunched her nose.

"Shut up." Jade rolled her eyes. "I could be your mentor, Breeana."

"God, you're all freaking her out. Let the girl be who she wants to be," Sasha put her two cents in.

"I'm not freaked out," Breeana tried to sound as convincing as possible. Even though these were Cymbeline's best friends, she was always in awe of them.

"Yeah. She's good," Cymbeline addressed her friends, "She's not a baby. So stop with the condescending shit, okay?" She then winked at Breeana, the only sign of the real Cymbeline she had seen in a while.

But that's where it ended. Over the next ten minutes, Cymbeline was much more focused on her food, taking her time as she worked through all the food. By the time she had finished, it had most likely turned cold. The other girls at the table talked shit about the most mundane subjects – who they were rooting for in the latest season of RuPaul's Drag Race, what vibe they were going for the Magnolia Ball, the price of Joji tickets…

And yet, Cymbeline remained silent through all of this.

The brewing anxiety bubbling within Breeana was only getting worse. She occasionally nodded, pretending to be part of this conversation going on around her. But her sole focus was on Cymbeline.

"Nah, I'm, like, not really a fan of any of them," Kaycee's voice briefly tore Breeana's attention away. "Out of the whole franchise, I gotta say I love Trixie Mattel…" she began counting off on her fingers.

"Of course," Jade nodded, trying to suppress her smirk.

“...Farrah Moan…Courtney Act…Miz Cracker…”

Sasha took over the counting, "And Willam and Pearl and Plastique Tiara and - -" 

"Basically, any bitch that resembles Barbie." Yasmin flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"Look. What's with the hostility towards Barbie?" Kirstee interrogated. "Also, I think it's worth mentioning that Trixie Mattel is a saint."

"Like, yeah, we met her," Kaycee added, nodding.

"She liked my silky pink bag. The one with the pearl handle."

"Yeah, and she called me a baby prostitute."

The girls erupted into laughter.

All except Breeana and Cymbeline.

The older of the two wasn't much focused on her food anymore. More the group of jocks a few tables down from their own.

Among this group was the tool himself, Zach. 

His boys were pumping him up, staring over his shoulder at something on his phone. The video, maybe?

The thought made Breeana want to throw up.

Cymbeline was squeezing her fist again, her hand shaking.

And that just made the youngest Devlin feel even more anxious.

Then along came Miss. Watson, the gym teacher, summoning Zach's presence.

Breeana's eyes followed him as he got up from his table and left with the teacher. They didn't exit the cafeteria, however, standing more in the middle of the place and murmuring.

From how she put her hand on Zach's shoulder, how she smiled, and how he smiled, she was probably pumping him up too. Miss. Watson was probably talking about his latest Soccer match and how he was definitely getting that scholarship they swore he would earn, utterly oblivious to his crime, to what he did to Kirstee.

To what he was doing to Kirstee.

He didn't deserve praise. Nor a damn scholarship.

Cymbeline kept staring, the rage practically radiating from her. 

Even though this seemed on brand for her, Breeana knew this wasn't good.

A delighted scream erupted throughout the cafeteria. The youngest Devlin's gaze flew back to Zach.

The boy was still standing before Miss. Watson. Only now, his pants were on the ground, gathered at his ankles, along with his underwear.

Everyone was laughing. Zach attempted to pull his clothes back up. Miss. Watson was covering her eyes from seeing his lower half.

The place had gone up into total utter chaos in a matter of seconds.

"Shut up!" Zach roared at everyone around him, struggling to pull his pants up. It was as if the articles of clothing had turned to stone. "Shut the fuck up!"

Miss. Watson removed her jacket, giving it to Zach to hide his decency. Not that it mattered. The damage was done. Everyone cackled at the sight of his bare lower half.

"Dude, he really just exposed himself to Miss. W!" One student taunted.

"Everybody, settle down!" Miss. Watson barked.

But it was futile.

Breeana just stared as Zach's face turned beetroot red.

The girls around her were living for this, especially Kirstee. This should have been justice. This should have been the part Breeana celebrated with the wronged twin.

But turning her attention to Cymbeline, she knew she wasn't wrong for the sinking feeling deep within.

Cymbeline only smiled, no laughter.

Even though it was easy to read, never had Breeana seen a smile so devious on her sister's face.

A smile so wicked.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"That was you, wasn't it?"

Upon walking into the school bathroom, Cymbeline hadn't expected to see Breeana already waiting for her, as if the younger girl knew she was coming. 

She was leaning against the far wall, arms folded across her chest.

Cymbeline marched straight for the mirror, retrieving some lip gloss from her bag. "How could it have been me? I was at the table with you. He was over with his boys."

"Don't play dumb, Cym'." Breeana unfolded her arms, bravely stepping up to her sister. "You know how."

"Then why are you asking?" Cymbeline didn't even look at Breeana, only back at her flawless reflection as she added a new layer of gloss.

"Cymbeline…you know the rules. We can't… We're not allowed to - -"

Fuck. The tough exterior was shattering.

And Cymbeline could smell it. A smile crept its way onto her face. "Listen, Breeana. If you wanna lecture me, maybe take more time practising in the mirror first."

Breeana blinked frequently, "But, I…Cymbeline, you - -"

"We'll talk at home." And Cymbeline whirled away from her reflection, flashing a sweet yet fake smile to her sister and leaving the bathroom.

One could say Breeana couldn't wait to get home.

But did the talk even happen?

She knocked on her sister's bedroom door once, only to get no answer. And then she tried again, finding Cymbeline lounging on her bed, airpods in her ears.

And the third time…well, Cymbeline only shot a pointed look at her.

"I-I just wanted to say goodnight," Breeana stammered, standing in the dark hall and peering into Cymbeline's dimly lit room.

"Okay." Cymbeline nodded, dragging her ass to bed.

Of course, they were never going to have the conversation.

Maybe it was for the better. After all, Breeana was exhausted, what with Cymbeline still sneaking out since that first night. The younger of the two couldn't bring herself to sleep knowing her sister was out somewhere – most likely in those woods doing God knows what.

Initially, it was believable that Cymbeline was only going out for a smoke and fancied a nightly stroll while at it.

But as it went on and on, becoming part of the older Devlin's routine, the stench of bullshit became more apparent.

And lying in bed that night, after the stunt in the cafeteria…

As exhausted as Breeana was…

Her curiosity got the better of her.

She heard the tip-toeing on the opposite side of her door, the barely audible steps down the stairs, and the front door opening.

Breeana couldn't take it anymore.

She sat up in her bed and followed Cymbeline. She followed Cymbeline into the forest, her footsteps carefully placed, barely making a sound.

From a distance, not once did she see her dear sister spark up a cigarette. Cymbeline just kept walking.

On and on…

Until she came to the cliff…

Breeana watched from behind her hiding place – a great oak tree – spectating as Cymbeline stared straight ahead, a good distance from the cliff's edge.

Until she started running…then sprinting…

Towards the edge.

Breeana's heart was hammering, too shocked to even move.

Too shocked to stop her sister from diving off.

And Cymbeline did it.

She dove off the cliff…

[doctorbeans]

this isnt the drawin im working on for baz’s bday but heres a warmup of simon

[hakkais-hoe]

I want a bimbo reader x tenjiku fluff where the reader is just adorably stupid yet somewhat makes everyone love them :) idk why I'm so into bimbo nowadays💀

um yes those men would obsess over a little bimbo reader even platonically!! n who tf doesn't love a bimbo

So bimbo!r is more cute and stupid in this rather than overly seductive, ofc she still likes her tiny skirts n very cleavage showin tops 😩

age warning:16+

warnings: female reader!! pure sweet fluff, lots of bimbo use, slightly dumb n oblievious reader, simping men, swearing, poly, separate how they feel scenarios, reader sits and decorates their hair with random clips and bobbles, boobs are mentioned a lot!, light mentions of violence n fighting.

Characters: Izana, Haitani's, Mucho, Kakucho, Shion.

▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️

Look as a whole they absolutely adore their little bimbo to the point of obsession

Izana is pretty subtle about it until he hears someone saying shit about you then he goes full blown feral

Ran litterally fawns over you 24/7, kinda eggs on the dumb part of you so he can baby you

Rindou is kind of like a feral guard dog, will stand over your shoulder and shout at anyone who bothers you

Kaku is so sweet about it, will explain things to you or just simply spoil you rotten with affection

Mucho is pretty silent still, really likes when you wear pretty clothes and flaunt them to him. Also buys you lost of outfits. Lives for when you plonk yourself down in his lap mindlessly

Shion and you are literally the same. He’s just as much of a bimbo but he’s a loud dumb blonde bimbo. Needs things explaining to him too

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

“Zana! Kaku! Look what me an Shi got!!” Your bubbly loud voice has all of your other partners turning to glance at the two loud bubbly bimbos practically skipping their way. Proud looks are plastered on the two of yous faces, on your right is your dumb blond boyfriend holding up two matching shopping bags.

Grins and knowing smiles form on the other five men’s faces, Ran elbows Mucho and tilts his head in the direction of two men that followed the two of you in, taking note of the two. Instead of saying anything they turn back to the two of you to see what is in the two bags.

“Okay, okay what ya got pretties? Is it food? I’m starving now.” Ran hums waltzing forwards to meet the rest of the group at the place Izana and Kakucho are stood.

“Noooo babyyyy don’t guess just wait for yous to show you~” You coo wrapping your arms around Muchos neck to hang off the hulking figure. He effortlessly supports your weight with one arm while he ruffles Shions messsy hair with the other. Shion sports a sweet smile before he grins back at the bags cockily looking back at you.

When everyone is stood around the bags you and Shion move to open them. Bright silly grins rest on your faces.

“C’mon love just show us! Rans made me fuckin hungry now… dickhead.” Rindou grumbles from the corner before smacking his brother in the head grumpily. You pout at the impatient men before pulling out the new mochi and random assortment of hair ties and fun clips/accessories you found.

“Lookkkkk!!! How cute are these!? We wanna sit nd do everyone’s hair so you look cute!!” You’re ditzy glee filled grin sends all of them reeling into simp central.

“That’s not food… we should order food while they do our hair…” Rindou mutters already taking a seat before yoru seating hands, his head resting just below the swell of your tits.

“Heyyy! No fair I wanted y/n to do mine first it’ll take the longest!” Ran protests in a loud whine already trying to move his brother and failing, instead he settles for resting his chin on your shoulder where he can easily sneak glances at the bright pink bra you have poking out of the plunge neckline shirt.

Grumbles and complaints are thrown from the others before they set about either letting Shion do their hair or going out to get food for the others.

•————————•—————————•

Izana

Wholeheartedly adores when you do stupid shit like this

Will never show it tho

Sits facing you when you get around to his hair

Shamelessly rests his head between your tits without a warning

Will kill anyone who upsets you :)

Gets pissed off when anyone other than the other 5 look at you too long

Loves your scent

Acts unbothered by everting cute that you do or your random stupid questions but inside he’s like dying n screaming

Kakucho

Very patient and acts like a gentleman

Doesn’t stick his head in ya cleavage like most of the others

Blushes n sweats like a sinner in church when you’re boobs bounce in his eyeline

Scary dog privilege when he’s around

Once out a guy in hospital for catcalling you

Always walks you places because you somehow always attract the wrong attention

Answers your dumb questions honestly even if it’s a really obvious answer

Is flushed every time he catches a glimpse of ur underwear or bra

Mucho

Openly dotes on you

Best believe it was his money you and shion spent on those clips

Let’s you stick one or two in his hair

Insists on you standing between his legs throughout

Holds your waist so gently

Rich boy spends so much money on you and loves it

You saw a cute tiny dress in a window, it’s wrapped in a pretty box with a bow just waiting for you a day later

Glares at people over your shoulder

Violent intent 24/7

Very calm about everything apart form you

Can and will snap anyone’s bones when they comment on your clothes

Spoils you rotten like any thing you want it’s yours

Shion

Look this bitch is 100% a bimbo too

He’s like a male carbon copy of you in the way he acts only he’s highly aggressive

Like a chihuahua

Helps with everyone’s hair then sits bouncing in his chair so you can do his

Another guy that rests his head on your tits

Tends to bite tho

Adores you so much, likes to brag about how pretty his baby is

Probably tries to fight anyone who even glances your way even if they weren’t looking at you

Likes to play with your hair too

Ran

Menace to society ♡

Best believe if you plan to touch his beloved hair you better be prepared for him to use you as a pillow

Makes you sit on a couch so he can lay on your lap so he can sleep while you do his hair

Loves the feeling of sleeping on your thighs

Falls asleep so fast if you massage his head or gently brush your fingers through his hair

You hen to re braid it after tho

Wants all of your attention if he’s on your lap

Can and will gaslight anyone who speaks to you

Whips his batton out at the slightest inconvenience

Only lets you and rin touch his hair

Absolutely indulges in your oblivious and slightly dumb questions

Teases you to no end till your pouting and tearing up before he brakes and apologises

Could not live without you now

Rindou

10000% tsundere

Acts like he kind of doesn’t like you but is the first to go along with your weird things

Either acts like he doesn’t care or acts tired 24/7

When he’s tired he’ll just go along with it anyway without a word

Another scary dog privilege but only cos he’s a bit feral

Acts really cold untill you utter anything about being insulted or upset then he’s worried af

Will hunt down anyone who upset you and dislocate all their limbs violently

Gets sweeter the longer your there

Enjoys just holding your hand and playing with your fingers or acrylic nails

Dies for the way false/acrylic nails feel against his scalp

All in all these men are all the “wear what you want I can fight” type of boyfriends ♡

▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️

Not sure how I feel bout this one but it is what it is :|

Taglist: @coldcoffeeholic @honeybachira @loonashadow @reiners-milkbiddies @sunahyejin @soushswag @bontensbabygirl @wakasagurl @haitink

[hauntedmilkshakeghost]

Skates of Truth

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve asks you to go rollerskating with him and Robin but Robin plays matchmaker

Warnings: Toothrotting fluff and Steve using his parents money to do something cute

Notes: Happy Feral Thursday! It’s very fluffy again this week because @ssahotchswifemain​ is a genius with fluff ideas too. Also I can’t remember if Steve’s parents are rich but in pretty sure they are?

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Steve practically yells into the phone.

“I mean I’m not coming, I’m giving you the perfect opportunity to ask her out! Make a grand gesture.” Robin says, Steve can practically hear the smirk in her voice.

He had been pining after you for months, imagining what it would be like to date you and cuddle with you and touch you whenever he wants.

But he was a chicken.

Back in high school he’d never have to worry about this, he could get any girl he wanted. But now? He had lost his mojo, he couldn’t hit on girls anymore and it was ridiculous. He knew it was probably all in his head but he was convinced he was cursed now.

“I’m not….Robin… I can’t.” Steve stumbles over his words and he hears Robin let out a deep sigh.

“You can and you will. You’re crazy about her and she’s crazy about you and you’re both dumb. Just do it.” The phone clicks as she hangs up and Steve sighs.

He can’t sleep that night, all he can do is stare at the ceiling and think about what Robin said. It would be crazy to do some kind of grand gesture, wouldn’t it? Did you even like grand gestures?

But if he was going to do a grand gesture, if that was even in the realm of possibility, he was going to need money and that meant groveling to his dad.

He thinks about it even as he’s falling asleep and when he wakes up he’s made up his mind. He’s doing a grand gesture. Even if he has to ask his dad for money. The first step though is to find out how much he’s going to need.

————————-

You’ve been fussing in front of the mirror for several hours now. You’ve showered and done your hair and now you’re trying to figure out what kind of outfit you wear to go skating.

It’s not like it’s a date, Robin is gonna be with you, but you still feel the need to dress nice because you’re going to be with Steve.

You glance at the clock and see it’s about 15 minutes before he’s supposed to show up so you sigh and decide on the one you’re wearing. It’s not bad but it’s not like you can wear a dress or skirt while you’re going roller skating, especially since it’s the first time.

When Steve pulls up you’re shocked to see it’s just him, usually if Steve picks you up Robin is already in the car.

You open the front door and climb in with him, “Hey! Are we going to pick up Robin?”

Steve smiles at you, “Hey! Uh….Robin backed out last minute so its just us…..is that ok?”

You feel yourself heating up at the idea of being just with Steve, “Ya….of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

The car ride to the skating rink is fairly silent, maybe this is the reason Robin is always in the car. You never have a problem bantering with Steve when Robin is here but now that you’re here you can’t. All you can think about is Steve and holding his hand and kissing him and feeling him against you.

“Are you nervous?” Steve asks, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

“Huh? Why would….why would I be nervous? No reason to be nervous.” You stutter.

“Oh I just….thought maybe you’d be worried about falling over.” Steve reply’s and you mentally facepalm. Of course he meant about skating and not about the fact you’re alone with him.

You go quiet again until Steve pulls into the parking lot of rink. The first thing that you notice is there’s only two cars in the parking lot and there’s an absence of people hanging out outside.

“Are we sure they’re open?” You ask.

“Uhhh, ya. I triple checked.” Steve looks nervous, he’s fidgeting in his seat as he parks.

Steve almost trips getting out of the car as he tries to get to your side and open the door for you, “M’lady.” He chokes out, panting as he bows.

You laugh and take his hand to help you get out of the car, he’s an incredible dork and you love it.

As you enter the front door you realize that the place is completely empty besides the front desk employee and the concessions employee.

“Sorry, sir, the rink was rented out for a private event tonight.” The bored teenager flips a page in his magazine without ever looking up.

“Well shit.” You sigh, “I guess we aren’t skating tonight.”

“Uh, no no……” Steve looks nervous as he leans over the front desk and tries to whisper, “I’m Harrington….the person who uh…rented the place.”

He’s trying so hard to be quiet but you can still hear him and your eyes go wide as Steve gives his skate size to the guy.

“What’s your size, miss?” The guys asks as you stare at Steve.

You shake your head and give her the size and he disappears into the room with all the skates.

“You rented the place out?” You whisper, eyes never leaving Steve’s no matter how much he refuses to look straight at you.

He shuffles his feet, “I just…thought you’d be more comfortable learning to skate if you didn’t have an audience…..”

You smile softly as the guy returns with the skates and you and Steve sit side by side as you lace them up.

This time the silence is comfortable, your shoulders touching and you can feel his warmth radiating off of him.

“Ready to teach me how to skate?” You giggle as you feel Steve tense up.

“Right right right, you don’t know how and Robin isn’t here which means I’m gonna be teaching you. Ok. I can do that.” He babbles and you can’t help but giggle at him.

You try to stand up, forgetting that you’re on skates and almost falling but Steve catches your arm.

“Ok, I will be helping alot I guess.” He grins and stands up, only flailing a little as he starts guiding you to the rink itself.

“Ok, it’s simple, just follow my lead.” Steve holds your hands and starts doing small strokes of the skates hoping that you’ll pick it up. Although it’s very hard to pay attention when all you can think about are his hands holding yours. When you are paying attention though it seems fairly simple. But you aren’t sure if you want to learn.

You want to keep Steve’s warm and clammy hands laced with yours as he eases you around the rink. After a couple of slow and easy laps around the ring he starts to ease away from you.

“You try this lap on your own.”

“Don’t go to far away.” You whisper, hands still outreached as he lets go of yours.

“I won’t, I’ll be right here, same length away. Just not holding your hands.” Steve whispers back.

Steve keeps his promise, he doesn’t stray too far away from you and you make it around the rink with very little issues.

“Amazing! Now let’s speed it up.” Steve grins and grabs your hands again as he starts skating a little faster.

“Wait wait, not ready.” You squeal but it’s too late, you’re already falling forwards. You fall over and you take Steve with you.

You land with your hands on either side of his head, your legs hooked around his waist. His face is bright red as he stares at you with big eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He gasps.

“Don’t be.” You smile and lean down and kiss him softly. His lips are soft and clumsy against your own but he quickly regains his composure as you pull away.

The minute you lift away from him he pulls you back down and kisses you again, his lips are much more confident as he holds your face.

“Wow.” Steve whispers.

“Wow indeed.” You giggle before getting yourself back up, “Now back to skating, I need to learn.”

[friendly-neighbourhood-spiderm4n]

Can u write being el's first friend in california and standing up for her as popular fem reader headcanons?

A/N - I love writing headcanons, means I don’t need to write proper sentences lmao. Also, this ends up straining away from the actual request cause I got into it, but like I tried to make up for it with it cute friendship headcanons.

>Your probably live right done the street from her house.

>The day they moved into their house, you saw the moving truck and figured you could help out and get to know some new neighbours.

>It was a short walk, 1 minute I’d say, and you say a family of 4 entering they’re new house.

>The oldest looked to be the kids mom, and the oldest male looked to young to be a father.

>One of the kids, a girl saw you approach, and a smile, a very big smile, broke out onto her face as she waved at you.

>You waved back, she seemed really nice.

>You speed walk to her quickly, which surprised her, but made her smile even more.

>”Hey, I see the moving truck and thought I’d come by and say hello and ask if you need a 5th pair of hands?”

>Their mom looked at you and smile softly- what a lovely family -and said that they didn’t want to interrupt your day but thanked you for offering.

>You insisted and joked that you had been looking for something to do anyway and that helping someone felt nice.

>She gave in after your new friend practically gave her puppy dog eyes.

>You helped El- Your new friends name -move her stuff into her bedroom and helped her set up the bedroom a little.

>She told you about her siblings and her dad, her mom and why they had to move (sorta)

>”I get the whole “parents have to move for a new job” kind of thing. I and my family moved her around 4 months ago, before school started.”

>Will came into the room to say hi, and asked you like two questions (“Have you heard of D&D?” “Do you know where the local pizza place is?”)

>The rest of the day was spent organising, getting to know El and her family and exploring the house.

>On her & Wills first day of school, you helped them around a lot. You introduced her to few of your friends like Angela and the others she hangs out with.

>She made a comment on El’s clothing and you were very confused. You told Angela to knock it off and she responded with the “popular girl reason to pick on anyone.” (“Why, she’s a complete weirdo?)

>Her other friends started to laugh and so you dragged El and Will away, thinking of a way to get back at them.

>You talked it other and the 3 of you decided on a classic slime prank.

>You bought a bucket worths amount of slime and tide it to the top of the door. The very basic idea of it falling on her head and ruining her outfit, hair, makeup and hopefully a little bit of her reputation.

>Prank went well. No one knew it was either of you cause you climbed back out the Window when you’d set it up.

>You also insured it would land on her head and not some random kid, by taking one of her assignments and placing it on her desk so that she would have to get it to the classroom earlier than usual.

>There was a rumour around the school that a student would take forgotten assignments and pass using them. (Which worked out in your favour lol.)

>She went home early and didn’t show up the next day, or the next either.

>Victory was yours, El’s and Will’s.

>More pranks would ensue when you caught El or Will being made fun of. They never really told you when you didn’t see it.

>Angela is yet to catch on or even suspect you lmao.

>She very dumb.

>If anyone else picks on her or Will, (They’re a package deal.) you use very creative insults to get them to be quiet.

>”Go blow your dad you fizzy haired fuck!” (No offence Eddie.) “I’m gonna rip out your mothers uterus and shove it done your fucking throat!” (Using sister instead of mother works fine too!”

>But when school was out, (After school, holidays and weekends.) you and her would have a lot of fun. (Very specific.)

>Fun such as going to food places and eating a shit ton of unhealthy foods, candies and drinking milkshakes. (I’m sorry if you have diabetes.)

>You took her to see movies at the theatre, went to the Arcade together, helped her put songs on cassettes to send to a boy named Mike from her hometown.

>Argyle would also give you rides to school, even though you could’ve just gone with one of the other popular kids.

>You helped her with making the diorama of her dads cabin. She also told you about the lab after a while. You swore to protect her for the rest of your life.

>You tried to take the blame for the incident at the Rink-O-Rama, but since witnesses says otherwise, they took El.

>You managed to convince the cops that you were her influence and they took you into custody as well.

>Then the whole Nina project came into play, and you tried you hardest to be there for her.

>El ended up coming clean about everything and you didn’t faze much, just held her as she cried, obviously frustrated from everything and being back in a lab.

>By everything, I mean she told you about the Demogorgon, Mind Flayer and The flayed people. Also talked about how the government chased her and nearly killed her and her friends back in 83’.

>Then you both escaped, (not without you killing Dr Brenner.) went to Hawkins and fought Vecna after her other friends informed you guys about everything.

>It was actually hilarious, cause one of the older boys, Steve practically adopted you. Started calling him dad and then realised it be even funnier to call him mom.

>El joined in on the joke.

>She is very happy you’re in her life, you make it better.

>Also, you cried with her when she saw Hopper. You cried happy tears cause she was happy to see her dad again.

>You, El and Max become a package deal.

>Then you get dragged back to Cali by your parents.

>Joyce and her chaotic kids moves back to Hawkins. You sobbed as you hugged El goodbye. So did She, Will and Joyce.

>Argyle and Johnathan were just sad. They stood by his now fixed car and just said really long goodbyes.

>You managed to convince your parents to let you visit the Byers and Hoppers often. Like every 2-3 weeks.

>Parents get annoyed and just move to Hawkins after like 4 months.

>You also become a popular kid in Hawkins High and use it to your friends advantages.

>Also, you’re in the party.

>Your Eddie’s second favourite. Mainly cause he got the opportunity to teach you everything about D&D and you two had a hell of a time.

>El was there for most of the lessons, not understanding any of it but wanting be supportive.

>Based on whatever class yours is, is the nickname Eddie bases it off of.

>You also call Robin dad, it annoys Steve so-

>El and you have millions of sleepovers, whether at you house or her cabin. (Her and Hopper fixed it up.) Whether Max or anyone else if there or if either of you sneak out and explore random parts of Hawkins.

>She once heard a joke about adult stuff and asked you. You very awkwardly explained it to her. Max came in the room, after spying for like the whole conversation and just laughed at you and your awkwardness.

>”How’d you get into my house?? It’s 10 at night Max.”

>You never found out how she got into your house, she’ll never tell you.

>If you joined the Hellfire Club, she’ll go to EVERY. Single campaign.

>Also, you both go Lucas’ games when possible. He always appreciates it.

>Probably almost killed Vecna when he hurt El. Probably took Steve’s bat and tried bashing his head in with it.

>You both get away with a lot of things. Like stealing clothes from your mutual friends and each other. Also, you’re they only person Hopper blindly trusts with his daughter. (Other than the Byers.)

>You thought her how to ride a bike when Hopper proposed the idea. Obviously Hopper also teaches her, but you kept an eye for her when you went on bike rides.

>You tell her stories about mythical- nice -monsters/creatures such as unicorns and puppy’s with laser eyes.

>You both binge watch shows on Sundays. Whether it be action shows or cartoons.

>You attend most Movie nights with El and her family. (I truthfully believe the Byers joined in on El and Hoppers movie nights he talked about in season 3.)

>You’ve accidentally have called him dad half a million times, and every time you do, he becomes awkward and El just a smiles.

>You introduced her to Marvel. Max introduced her to DC. The both of you introduced her to He-Man.

>You help her out with most of her homework, except maths. Most people suck at math. You both were one of them. So instead, Nancy helped in that department.

>For her birthday, (Which you totally made up and said it was the date you two meet. She also knows that’s not her real birthday.) you got her a bird. Mainly cause the were easy to take care of and you didn’t want to stress her out.

>All she had to do was feed it and dive it water, and try to befriend said bird.

>She actually had two birds, but one passed away. You feel like it’s kind of your fault because you named it Loki. (I’m purely basing this on my own birds.) (Yes, I did have a bird name Loki that passed away.)

>All of the Party have had a massive sleepover in Mikes Basement. Like once every two-three weeks.

>If El and Mike ever break up, you and Max comfort her. Mike almost does at the hands of you and Hopper on several occasions that same week.

>At school (Hawkins High), if they have dodge ball terminates, and can pick your own team, the party just forms as one and they all learn about your aggressive and they protective side when a ball straight hits El in the face which gives her a really bad headache.

>Overall, a very cute friendship.<3

[moonctzeny]

go there with you [teaser]

pairing: roommate/daddy dom! jaemin x fem! reader

genre: smut

summary: "You'd be lying had you said you didn't pick Jaemin to room with you because of his good looks. You had successfully managed to keep things platonic between you until a mistake and an amateur porn vid would bring you closer than ever. His annoying habits might wanna make you rip his hair out, yet you can think of a couple ways you can be all in his face."

ask me to join the taglist :)

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

Desperate. That’s what you had said in your ad.

You were desperate for a roommate because your landlord is an asshole who raised the rent of a girl he knows damn well is too stiff to become a stripper. You’d take anyone, really, but Jaemin still wasn’t the best candidate. You had a bunch of people that reached out to you. Quiet, kind, soft-spoken; the definition of a perfect roommate for most. A girl who said her only hobby was practicing chess by herself, a guy who was attending culinary school and promised to do all the cooking for the both of you, a girl who just needed a place to crash on the rare days she wasn’t sleeping at her boyfriend’s. They all seemed responsible and likable as well. So why did you settle for the loud talking, late-night gaming, plate scratching man in your kitchen? Just those few occurrences when you mixed up your coffee orders and had to take that first sip of his ‘Namericano’ was good enough of a reason to kick him out for good.

Well first off all, living with someone that looks like Jaemin hardly qualifies as ‘settling’. You were frankly swept off your feet when he came in for your roommate interview, dressed in the plainest of outfits yet looking so effortlessly handsome. He knew he was charming and used it against you, flicking his eyebrows when you asked him about his relationship status (you weren’t really in the mood to find a new naked lady in your living room every morning), running his fingers through his hair whenever he gave you an answer he knew you wouldn’t like.

And also, Jaemin isn’t always bad. On the days he’s not screaming into his headset or high on his caffeine overdose, he’s actually really fun to be around. He agrees to watch your favorite movies and he never steals your snacks, always smells nice, and is a good cuddler as well.

Desperate for him. That’s what you were that night you crossed the line.

He was bugging you for your wireless headphones again, barging into your room uninvited, as always. You just couldn’t understand why he didn’t just buy a pair of his own since he enjoyed working out in them so much.

“I swear to god Jaemin if you empty out their battery again-”

“I won’t! Please, y/n? I tried using mine but I keep getting tangled up in the wires.”

You just wanted that shirtless man out of your room. The results of his workout - or rather the mere warming up for it - were starting to show, sweat pooling on the hollows of his collarbones and fixated over his brows. His abs glistened in the dim lighting of your room, completing the godly image of your friendly neighborhood Apollo. Wasn’t he supposed to be smelly and gross? The light activity only intensified the spicy musk of his body spray.

You sigh and take off your headphones, letting your hair fall freely over your temples again. Searching a bit amongst the mess of cables on your nightstand, you pull out a small charger and throw them both in his direction.

“Just return them when you're done. And remind me to get you a pair of those for Christmas.”

Jaemin’s smile unravels for you gratefully, and you sigh when you finally hear the ‘click’ of your door lock. There was something he had interrupted you from, and unfortunately, you needed your headphones for the job. Guess you’d have to watch porn on mute.

It’d been a while since your last hookup. You’d been seeing that guy you met at one of your electives for a while now, your relationship mostly sexual. Everything was going smoothly, up until the day you decided on inviting him over to your place. Apparently, Jaemin’s definition of ‘being subtle’ was completely different from yours, since offering a drink to your date in your kitchen: 1) half-naked and 2) at 3 in the morning, seemed completely normal to him. You couldn’t really blame the guy for ghosting you after he left. You’d be intimidated too had his roommate been a model strutting in her Victoria’s Secret underwear.

And your little “friend” isn’t the only one affected by your roommate’s obvious good looks. In fact it’s reminded to you constantly during this whole rooming situation, and the way you’re sprung off for Jaemin for simply existing is starting to obscure you from functioning normally at this point.

It was a dumb little 2-minute video, retweeted by your favorite NSFW account. You had indulged yourself in the first few seconds and it became clear to you that this was not something to listen to in the presence of anyone other than yourself. Getting cozy under the duvet of your bed, you dim the lights to your comfort and finally press play.

You could swear the video had audio, too. At first, you thought that maybe the couple was quiet, but the way the man started snapping his hips against his girlfriend later on would make that extremely unlikely. You turn up the volume of the video some more, trying to figure out what’s wrong with your phone’s speakers when you notice the little icon at the top right of your screen.

Your headphones were still connected to your phone via Bluetooth.

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Date With The Brothers Goes Terribly… Then it Starts to Rain.

Side Characters ver.

Hello my dearest degenerates, there’s nothing I love more than ridiculous crack fics, but I wanted to do some fluff, so here we go!

Lucifer

This just had to happen on Lucifer’s one day off… didn’t it? He had the entire day planned out, his brothers would be out doing their own thing, which left him and MC to have the entire day together.

The two of them would have gone to Ristorante 6, watched a movie, and simply enjoyed each other’s company. But no, Lucifer can’t have nice things.

It certainly started off that way, MC and Lucifer held hands as they made their way over to Ristorante 6, and the Avatar of Pride was reminded for the thousandth time exactly why he adored this human so much.

The human was both one of the most stress inducing parts of his life, and one of the few things that made him feel completely at peace. He would move mountains for them if they asked him too…

While Lucifer was in the middle of staring incredibly lovingly at his beloved MC, the human stopped suddenly and pointed ahead of them.

“I think Ristorante 6 may be… closed today.” “What do you mean, MC- oh.”

Apparently, two demons got into a very nasty fight inside, and one slammed the other through a wall. The restaurant was in the middle of scheduling repairs and would be closed until the hole in the wall was fixed. Lucifer developed the tiniest of tics in his right eye, but all MC had to do was squeeze his hand and give him that perfect smile of theirs… *sigh* they were right… there were other good places to eat.

Well, the cafe they wanted to go to was closed that day and they both walked over there for nothing… the second restaurant they went to was full on account of Ristorante 6 closing earlier…

Finally, the two practically trudged to Hell’s Kitchen, but Beel was there an hour earlier and cleared the entire place out…

Lucifer told MC not to fret, they’d just head to the movies and buy some snacks, sure it wasn’t the fancy dinner they planned but… at least it was food.

Oh… the movie they planned on seeing was… not running that night…

“Did you check online before we left?” “…damn.”

Their date was going decidedly terrible, MC and Lucifer were eating movie theatre popcorn outside, in outfits that were way too formal, and were rapidly becoming more and more convinced that the day was just… cursed.

Then… a crack of lightning, then it began to completely pour.

Lucifer winced the moment he heard the lightning, of course… of course it would start to rain… as the rain began to pour down on the two, he simply stared straight ahead, completely and utterly defeated.

The Morning Star, the right hand to the Crown Prince of The Devildom, The Avatar of Pride himself, was defeated by a simple thunderstorm. He took a deep breath in, prepared to shout, scream, throw a tantrum of the highest degree, then just visibly deflated. He turned to MC, who looked just as defeated and drained.

Lucifer wordlessly used his magic to put up a small shield above them, sheltering the two from the torrential downpour.

“You know,” MC mumbled, resting their head against Lucifer’s arm. “The movies make getting caught in the rain seem much more romantic…”

That comment elicited a quiet chuckle from Lucifer as he pulled MC into a hug. The two were already drenched, what did it matter if Lucifer got cheap popcorn butter all over the front of his outfit? Nothing else mattered when he was with the one person in the world who could make his heart swell with this much love and adoration.

“How about we head home, MC? I think I still have some of Barbatos’ cake hidden in the kitchen, we can enjoy that and listen to some music.”

Lucifer felt MC sigh against his front, then look up with that bright sparkling smile that never failed to make him blush.

“I’d like nothing more.”

Mammon

Okay, Mammon had this whole day planned, by the end of it, his human would be swooning! He had gotten paid big bucks from his latest modelling gigs, and he was going to treat MC to a full day with their first man.

First, they were going to spend the morning shopping, then they were going to eat lunch at this new restaurant that had just opened up, after lunch they were going to just kill time until dinner, then eat dinner at Hell’s Kitchen, then they were going to go home, get changed, then head out to The Fall, party, then head home again where MC would most definitely shower the Great Mammon with all the praise and affection he deserved!

Of course, MC would be given all the love and adoration they deserved and more! Mammon’s human was the best, and they deserved the best! The Avatar of Greed was ready!

Or so he thought. The day began with Mammon deciding that he was going to make himself and MC breakfast. It was going fine until Mammon got lost in an intense daydream and by the time he snapped out of it, Beel had eaten the pancake batter and there was no time to make anything else.

Mammon’s surprise breakfast ended up being toast and cut up fruit. It wasn’t so bad, but everyone knows that fruit is very unreliable. Sometimes it’s good… sometimes it’s squishy and unappetizing…

The morning shopping trip was ruined when Mammon went to withdraw money from his account and it turned out that the money from his shoot wasn’t in the account.

Apparently his paycheque was being held back because one of the modelling agencies was being sued.

“…MC?” “Come here, silly.”

After having his face peppered with kisses, Mammon was completely rejuvenated. His human had magic kisses, after all! They never failed to make him feel better!

The two decided that instead of a shopping spree they’d spend a couple hours of window shopping, after that when the two stopped for lunch at the new restaurant. Twenty minutes after eating there, Mammon was dry heaving over a trashcan while MC chugged a bottle of water to try and settle the awful nausea that had completely taken over. Perhaps a bad review would be necessary…

The time that was meant to be spent just wandering around the Devildom was completely ruined when those damn witches showed up! Mammon was not about to forfeit his time with MC to play servant to those three, so he grabbed his human and sprinted away.

That cat and mouse game with the witches lasted for literal hours and ended with Mammon and MC hiding behind a random alley dumpster…

Finally, Hell’s Kitchen, it turned out that they didn’t take too kindly to dine and dashers, so Mammon ended up spending the time he was supposed to be spending eating with MC waiting tables to pay off his tab.

After that, Mammon was too exhausted to even think about partying, so MC suggested that they just head home and watch some fun action movies.

The moment they began their walk home however…

A single drop of water tapped against Mammon’s sunglasses, he looked up and pointed a finger at the sky.

“No.”

Another drop of water hit the rim of his sunglasses.

“No!”

I’m a matter of seconds, it had begun to completely pour, Mammon dug his hands into his hair and shouted in frustration.

“NO! NO! NO! WHY RIGHT NOW?! Why… why right now..?” His outburst had quickly petered out into Mammon physically drooping and quietly taking off his jacket. He held it over MC so they would be spared the brunt of the rain and looked down at his now soaked shoes. “I… I’m sorry… MC…”

“Mammon, what are you sorry for?” MC said gently, lacing their fingers with his.

What kind of a question was that? Mammon had fucked up the date he had planned and made himself look like a complete idiot in front of the one person who showed him any amount of love and affection.

His heart sank as he managed to drag his gaze over to MC. They were worried about an idiot like him… maybe they’d be better off without needing to constantly babysit him…

“Today… everything… I dunno…” Mammon mumbled, MC looped their arms around him, being careful not to drop his jacket onto the wet ground.

“Are you kidding? You planned this entire nice day for the two of us,” when Mammon didn’t respond, MC took on a more firm tone. “Listen, sometimes dates don’t turn out good, that doesn’t mean you have to mope in the rain. Let’s go home, order some food, and watch a movie or some dumb show, whatever makes you happy.”

Though the constant patter of the rain made it difficult to hear, Mammon sniffled and finally returned the hug. His human really was the best.

“You’re too nice to me… ya know that?” Mammon whispered.

MC pressed a soft kiss to his lips and smiled. “Get used to it, because I don’t plan on stopping.”

Leviathan

Levi had to psyche himself up for months in order to do this… he had seen and swooned over cliche TV show dates thousands of times and now, he wanted to take MC on one.

Simply asking them was a Herculean task all on its own… Levi tried to kabedon them, and failed miserably and ended up head butting MC by accident. The Avatar of Envy could have shrivelled up and died of embarrassment right then and there, but MC let out the sweet laugh that never failed to make Levi’s heart swell. They accepted the date request.

When the day came, the two left the HOL, and Levi began his checklist of things that needed to happen to make this a perfect date. First! Dinner!

Dinner… did not pan out well to say the least. The place they had decided to go to was incredibly crowded and the two of them got seated in just the worst spot. They ended up needing to end their meal early and eat outside because Levi was getting hit with a bad case of sensory overload.

Eating outside wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for the fact that it was cold and windy as hell… Levi was cold blooded… not figuratively, but mostly literally, he did not do well in overly cold environments. He ended up cuddling closer to MC, which would have been really romantic if he hadn’t accidentally spilled their drink all over them.

Okay… that didn’t turn out good… well, after dinner they were supposed to go do some karaoke! Levi loved karaoke! He could sing something cute and sappy for MC, that was a romance staple!

And the karaoke place was closed for renovations… ugh…

Levi wanted to just go home and abandon the whole date idea, but MC looped their arm around him and pulled him away from the closed karaoke place.

“Remember the arcade we went to a few months ago? I saw it on the way here, let’s go there instead.” “Are you sure you want to keep this date with me going..?” “Positive.”

The arcade was fun until Levi spotted the DDR (Devil Dance Revolution) game that he and MC got the high score on last time. Levi wanted to see what other noobs had tried and failed to beat him and MC.

It turned out… someone beat them…

It seemed like Baphomet and Azazel made a good DDR team because they had managed to knock Levi and MC down to second place by a lot, that wasn’t all, apparently someone was salty after not getting past Levi and MC and put “are dumb” under their names!

Levi was practically frothing at the mouth when he pulled MC to the DDR machine to restore their lost honour. They… did not restore their lost honour. Levi ended up getting so upset he tried to unplug the machine, which somehow ended up permanently freezing the high scores onto the screen. It seemed that the entire Devildom would know that Baphomet and Azazel were better than Levi and MC, and that they were both dumb…

There was still one more thing Levi had planned on doing during his date with MC, he wanted to take them to a cherry blossom tree and suavely kiss them under it. Sadly, there were no cherry blossom trees in the Devildom, but there was a pretty decent substitute that was in bloom during that time of year. Levi and MC made their way to a spot where Levi knew there was a tree, and stood under it.

That was when Levi suddenly realized he had no clue how to be suave and began to stutter-spiral. MC patiently waited for Levi to properly articulate what he wanted to say, when they spotted a unicorn in the distance! MC excitedly pointed it out to Levi, who immediately went pale. Apparently Devildom unicorns are very territorial and very aggressive. They are Satan’s familiar for a reason…

Booking it from a unicorn was not how Levi wanted to end the date… it really wasn’t… but the final straw that broke the camel’s back had arrived in the form of a single raindrop. Then another… then another…

“Levi, please get out of the pond…”

“Leave me, find someone better.”

After the rain had started, Levi had taken off his jacket, handed it to MC, then proceeded to float face down in full demon form in the middle of a pond. The Avatar of Envy was so tired and embarrassed that he just wanted the pond to consume him.

“Levi,” MC tutted. “You’re going to get struck by lightning.”

“Good.”

“Leviathan!”

MC’s sudden shout caused Levi to flail in the water for a brief moment before he was able to use his tail to stabilize himself as managed to tread water.

“Get out of the pond right now! The Lord of Shadows would never abandon Henry like this!”

“The Lord of Shadows is cool, I’m not…” Levi crossed his arms and sunk ever so slightly deeper into the water.

“What the hell are you talking about?” MC asked. “Did we watch the same show? The Lord of Shadows is a huge dork, like you, now get out of the pond so we can go home and not get struck by lightning.”

Defeated by the power of friendship/love/fandom brotherhood, Levi made his way back to shore and was given a quick whack to the back of the head.

“Ow!”

“That’s for being a sulky dummy!” MC then yanked Levi forward by the front of his shirt and kissed him. Levi nearly gasped and began to fanboy right then and there in the middle of the kiss. A rain kiss! A dramatic kiss in the rain! That was one of the best tropes ever! “And that, was for trying to take me on a sweet date.”

“M-marry me…” Levi whispered before he could stop himself. MC giggled and patted one of his now bright red cheeks.

“Maybe someday.”

Satan

Going on fun spontaneous dates really wasn’t Satan’s forte, he preferred a schedule, but both he and MC had the afternoon free and Satan didn’t feel like bumming around at home when the two of them could do that any other day.

Oh-so charmingly taking his beloved MC by the hand and leading them to the nearest cat-cafe was the first thing Satan could think to do. He loves cats, he loves MC, what could possibly ruin a nice afternoon with both?

When the two reached the cafe, they were met with an employee closing the place early, claiming that all the cats had actually gotten adopted and they were waiting for more rescues to come in.

Satan couldn’t decide whether to be upset about the lack of cats, or happy that the cats got adopted into loving homes like they deserved. Satan settled on being aggressively happy.

It was no big deal, there were other things they could do together, like go to a library, or bookstore, or a museum, the possibilities were endless!

Well, it would have been endless if it wasn’t for the world conspiring to make Satan loose his cool. First, the line for his favourite book store was looped around the block because of a new book release. Inconveniencing, sure, but nothing too awful, there was a nice park nearby, the two decided to relax on one of the benches.

Problem number two arose when some idiot threw a Fangol ball a little too far and it ended up hitting Satan, then bouncing off his head and hitting the tree that the bench was under, normally, this would be rude and annoying but nothing that would activate Satan’s volcanic temper, except for the tiny issue that there was a wasp nest in that tree that decided Satan’s drink was enemy #1.

After being stung approximately eight times in the hand, Satan wasn’t doing too good, MC could tell and offered to go to the doctor’s with him. As Satan led them out of the park and towards the sidewalk he assured MC that there was nothing to worry about…

But MC, holder of Satan’s heart, went to go get him ice anyway.

The third and final thing to make Satan blow his top, the rain… the cold… depressing… rain…

“Oh…” MC mumbled as they looked up at the rain, then at Satan, whose hands were balled into fists so tight that his palms began to bleed. “Satan are you-”

Completely silent, Satan strode toward a nearby dumpster and slammed his foot into the metal, sending the entire thing into the back of the dead-end alley. The entire dumpster practically compressed and folded in on itself from the sheer force of the kick.

“Do you want to go home?” MC asked gently, taking a few steps towards him, Satan slowly nodded.

“Y-yes. I think that’d be the smart thing to do.” Satan massaged his forehead and took the ice from MC. “It seems that spontaneity isn’t our strong suit as a couple.”

MC sighed and nodded. “Yeah, we should go back to planning this stuff beforehand, and… you know,” They gestured around the two of them. “check what’s open and what the weather’s going to be before we head out.”

Only MC could soothe Satan’s temper as quickly as it flared up, and MC was getting covered with rainwater. That just wouldn’t do. He turned to MC and offered them his jacket. “I don’t want you to get cold.”

“Isn’t your line supposed to be ‘here, take this, you might catch a cold’?” MC lightly teased as they took the jacket. “Like a classic romantic lead?”

Satan shook his head and laughed softly. “No, that’s a common misconception. You can’t actually get the common cold or flu from being out in the rain. The real danger is hypothermia or frostbite.”

“Ah,” MC looped their arm around Satan’s and held his non swollen hand. “So smart, tell me more about the dangers of hypothermia.”

“Don’t tease, dearest, or I’ll take back my jacket.”

Asmodeus

Asmo had just the most stressful day… and decided that he and his sweet MC just had to go on a nice date together to fix it!

Most dates with Asmo had a sort of three act structure, first they would coordinate their outfits together for the actual date activity, then they’d do whatever they set out to do, then they’d go home and either snuggle, or do the Devil’s tango, whichever MC was feeling up for.

But on this particular day, the three act structure was being ruined. It started with the outfit coordination, somehow everything Asmo had that would match with what MC was wearing was in the laundry, he had to be convinced by MC that this wasn’t that big of a deal and the two of them would look radiant whether they matched or not.

Since that was settled, Asmo and MC made their way to Asmo’s all time favourite spa, which was not closed, no no no, it was actively on fire.

“How… how did this happen?” “Well, there were a lot of candles burning in that place, I guess we’ll just have to save the spa trip for another date.”

Everyone was fine by the way

Oh well, it would take more than a raging inferno to ruin Asmo’s date, he was determined to have a good time, so he cheerily took MC’s hand and led them away from the fire. He also casually mentioned that being so close to danger was a total turn-on.

MC very quickly ended that comment with a kiss, Asmo can’t make inappropriate sex jokes when he’s kissing his favourite person. It was truly a testament to his complete and utter adoration of MC that Asmo was willing to share the top spot of his list of favourite people with them!

While on their merry way to find something else to do, Asmo’s fan club caught wind that he and MC were on a date and decided to make their appearance. Now Asmo’s groupies are normally very sweet, but they can also be incredibly unaware of boundaries.

Everywhere Asmo and MC looked, one or two of Asmo’s fans would be half hiding and half spying on how the date was going. It was common knowledge that Asmo x MC was the OTP of the entire club, and some of the members wanted to get a peak of their ship doing something romantic.

As much as Asmo loved attention, it was getting kind of… creepy. He began to usher MC away from certain areas and tried to find a suitably nice place to get away from prying eyes.

The pair ended up in this absolutely gorgeous public garden that was thankfully quite empty. Though, all it took was one awkward step with the kind of shoes he was wearing and Asmo fell straight into a rose bush.

MC had to quickly get to work kissing Asmo’s cut up face better before he started to cry and ruined his mascara. What was even worse was that the fall messed up Asmo’s shoe and he’d have to walk back to the house like an uncoordinated baby deer.

Everything was fine… just fine… no need to worry… everything was… cloudy…

The moment the first drop of rain landed in front of Asmo he stood completely stiff and still.

“Don’t.” He growled. “I just got my hair fixed.”

The rain didn’t listen, and began pouring down, absolutely drenching Asmo and MC in a matter of minutes. MC tried to pull Asmo towards an alcove or a covered patio so they could call a cab home, but the Avatar of Lust refused to move. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, smiled serenely to himself, then looked back up to the sky and screamed with the hatred of a thousand suns:

“FUCK YOU TOO FATHER!”

It was quite a scene for MC to witness, Asmo rarely fully lost his cool, especially not enough to swear like an ‘uncouth barbarian’, combine that with his running mascara, scratched up face, and dirty clothes, he looked more like a feral movie star that was just rescued from the woods than the solid ten out of ten MC normally knew him as.

“Momo?” MC gently patted his back. “Come on, we should go home.”

Asmo finally turned to look at his sweet MC, the poor thing shouldn’t have seen him act like this… the day had gone completely horribly and he just had to drag MC into this, didn’t he? He felt his heart drop right into his gut as he practically collapsed into his human’s arms.

“Oh MC, I’m so sorry I dragged you out today… we should have just stayed home…”

“Asmo,” MC weighed their options, before settling on just rubbing his back. “There there.”

The awkward sniffling and snorting continued for the next couple of minutes while MC called a ride service to come pick the two of them up.

“Thank you, MC,” Asmo sniffled. “You’re the sweetest thing in the universe…”

“You’re sweet too, Asmo. It’s a shame today didn’t work out.”

“Mhm…”

“We can still save this date, you know? When we get back home we can take a bath and snuggle.”

“That…” Asmo sniffed. “That sounds really nice, MC.”

“Anytime spent with you is nice, Asmo.” MC then rolled their eyes while Asmo giggled. “Man that was corny…”

Beelzebub

Beel had come back from one hell of a Fangol game, and he was in an amazing mood! He wanted to take MC out to celebrate!

Between-meal snacks were packed, and they set off to the carnival. Nothing could beat the nice smell of fried dough, Carmel apples, popcorn, and spending time with MC.

Of course, the food wasn’t the only thing Beel wanted to enjoy with MC, there were rides and games to try while they enjoyed their snacks. First they made their way to the teacup ride.

In theory, having big strong Beel to spin the big wheel in the middle to make the teacup move would be a good thing, but even though it was the first ride, MC had eaten quite a lot of carnival snacks.

Beel only had to spin the centre disc once for the disc to both break and make the teacup to whirl around at a speed that practically threw them into Beel’s side. MC then… well… vomited. Everywhere.

Since Beel accidentally ripped the centre disc off, he couldn’t slow the teacup down manually to stop the puke-tornado, so it took a little while before the ride operator realized that something was wrong and stopped the ride.

The walk off the ride was both embarrassing and completely nauseating, MC needed to stumble to the nearest trashcan and hurl. Beel did his best to comfort his poor human and mumbled quite a lot of apologies.

“I’m sorry MC…” “Beel, it’s okay… I’d uh, kiss you but the… vomit.”

Both Beel and MC decreed that maybe rides weren’t the best idea after that, and went over to check out the carnival games.

After a few unsuccessful tries at a few games, a plushie caught MC’s eye and they were absolutely smitten with it. Beel vowed to win it for them, and lined himself up to try the pitching game.

Well, something good came out of that… Beel threw so fast it may have broken a record, the bad thing was that the ball tore through the tent and caused the whole thing to collapse.

The tent then caught fire after landing on some of the candles that were set up… the plushie went up in flames…

Beel turned to MC, who wordlessly patted him on the back. At… at least they still had their snacks…

As Beel and MC made their way to the exit, a group of kids rushed past the pair, Beel, not wanting to step on or bump into any of them, awkwardly wobbled, then fell and dropped all of his emergency snacks.

And then came the rain…

“Oh…” Beel mumbled as he stared down his spilled food, MC quickly wrapped their arms around him, looking up at him with a half-hearted smile.

“We can buy some more, or wait until we get home, it’s okay, Beel.”

The Avatar of Gluttony slowly nodded, tearing his gaze away from the wasted snacks. Thunder sounded above the two and the cold rain began to beat against them.

When Beel looked down at MC, he felt his heart flutter in his chest, they weren’t upset at him, they weren’t angry… they just wanted to make him feel better… Beel nodded resolutely to himself, he was going to make MC feel better too! He picked MC up bridal-style and began to walk away from the rapidly emptying carnival.

“B-Beel?” MC sputtered.

“Let’s go home, MC, I have cookies hidden in one of the cabinets that we can share.”

MC looked up at their sweet cinnamon roll, then buried their face in his chest. Their shoulders shook slightly as they looped their arms around Beel’s neck.

“M-MC?” Beel asked, he tried to shift MC in his arms to see if they were crying, but MC looked up at him with a sweet smile.

“You’re just the best, Beel. Never forget that.”

Belphegor

The Avatar of Sloth doesn’t exactly “do” traditional dates, but even he could tell that MC wanted to do something a little more exciting than “lay in bed and make out until Belphie falls asleep”.

Since Belphie is a totally wonderful brat boyfriend, he decided to take MC out to the best possible place in the human world for some stargazing… and napping.

He even put together a picnic basket so he and MC could eat while watching the sunset before the stars came out!

The favourite blanket was packed, the picnic basket was ready, and Lucifer gave the two permission to visit the human world for the evening. Belphie took a mental note to avoid doing any pranks for a week as a thank-you to his older brother.

Well, the first problem came when the two spread out the blanket and opened up the basket to find… nothing. Belphie immediately thought that Beel must have eaten their food, but then the memory of the food clearly sitting in the fridge entered his mind. He had forgotten to put the food in the basket… and he was too lazy to check why the basket was so light…

Oh well… no big deal, MC had a big lunch. The second problem came in the form of a swarm of mosquitoes. Gross, bloodsucking mosquitos.

“MC?” “Yeah?” “Did you happen to pack bug spray before I took you out on this surprise picnic?” “No…”

Belphie’s solution was to use his tail to bat the bugs away, but that proved to be quite useless. It didn’t help that while both MC and Belphie were being eaten alive, Belphie would end up accidentally thwacking MC with his tail.

Well, at least the sunset was nice, or it would have been if Belphie hadn’t slept through it by accident.

It was classic Belphie to manage to sleep through anything interesting, and apparently he also missed out on a shooting star which soured his mood even more.

The only little bright spot of the date so far was that MC did say that they wished for something for him on that shooting star… hopefully wish magic might salvage the date…

After being awoken by MC to look up at the sky, the two realized that something was… missing. Where were the stars?

MC and Belphie were laying on their backs facing the clouded over sky when they both had the dawning realization of what was to come.

Rain.

Of course… mosquitoes are extra active and crazy before a storm… that’s why they were coming at them…

Belphie let out a dejected sigh as the first raindrop of many hit the tip of his nose. MC scratched at their arms and began to pack up the blanket into the empty picnic basket. At least the blanket wouldn’t get too wet.

Well, he fucked this up royally. The Avatar of Sloth almost never put any actual work into something that didn’t benefit himself, but MC had managed to make themselves the exception. He wanted to make them happy, he wanted to see that cute little face they made when he’d crack a joke or make a quip about something, but now, lying flat on his back staring up at a coming rainstorm, Belphie had come to the crippling realization that all his work went to waste.

“You know, MC, the outdoors is going to lose my patronage.” Belphie murmured, blinking a few raindrops out of his eyes as the rain began to patter down with more ferocity. “I think the two of us should stick to indoor dates.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” MC sighed as they used the picnic basket as a makeshift umbrella.

“I’m um…” Belphie began, guilt twisting in his gut. “I’m sorry this turned out so shitty.”

“It’s okay, Belphie.” MC pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “If by some miracle the food that was supposed to be in the fridge hasn’t gotten eaten by the time we get back home, we’ll eat a late dinner, cuddle, and then sleep till noon.”

[starryhyuck]

thin ice. (m)

pairing: icehockeyplayer!mark x figureskater!reader

words: 2.6k+

summary: mark lee is the only thing standing in the way of your team’s victory. therefore, fucking him dumb is the best way to defeat him.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: dom!mark, sub!reader, overstimulation, constant fucking, bathroom sex, talks of car blowjobs, sex on the floor, (slight) breeding kink, creampie, hair pulling

disclaimer: i have no idea how figure skating or ice hockey works, i literally fell on my ass when i tried to step on the ice

Thirty seconds.

Thirty seconds left and the money is all yours. You can see it now — the lavish outfits, brand new skates, and even silk hair ties for when you want to play dress up. Mark Lee just has to miss this shot.

“He’s going to fucking make it,” Doyeon hisses in your ear, chewing on her nails in anticipation.

“Shut up!” You push her away and tell her to stop damaging her fingers.

You watch as Mark glides across the ice, almost knocking into Doyoung twice. “Slam him, slam him!” You screech, ignoring the stares of people around you. You simply want to see Mark get wiped out so glory can be within your reach.

You feel your world collapse when the puck hits the net, time stopping in slow motion as the crowd jumps up in pure bliss. Doyeon’s already crying in your shoulder, and you hear the angry shouts of Chaeyoung on your other side.

Mark Lee, you fucking asshole.

—

Since you were five years old, the ice became your home. And no, you didn’t have an awakening and gain powers like Elsa from Frozen. Your mother discovered how much you loved figure skating, even though your brother, Johnny, was a tall, bumbling mess once he stepped in the rink.

Once your talent was discovered, you were enrolled in figure skating classes and spent most of your afternoons gliding around the ice. You were excited to learn that you could possibly do the sport professionally if you practiced hard enough, but nobody told you how difficult the athletics administration could be.

You were scouted for your college because of your talents in figure skating, many believing you would be a great candidate for the Winter Olympics. However, when you arrived to campus, you learned that you would never be the first priority in the athletics budget.

It was a constant battle between figure skating and ice hockey for the money. Most of the funds went to football and basketball anyways, so you didn’t have much to fight for in the first place. The deal made by the athletics department was simple — if the ice hockey team could not carry themselves to a national championship, the rest of their budget would be distributed to your team.

The victory was within reach until Mark Lee scored the winning goal Friday night, making the ice hockey team one step closer to the national title.

You’re currently waiting for them to finish practice, tapping your foot impatiently as you stand besides the opening to the rink. You finally hear the boys finish up, laughing with one another as they exit. Their eyes narrow at the sight of you.

“Don’t you have better things to do?” Ten asks.

You smile. “Nope. Sicheng, we need to talk.”

The captain sighs and follows you until you’re out of earshot. “What is it now?”

You scoff. “You know damn well my team deserves the money more than you do. Worlds is just around the corner and we need the money in order to get there.”

Sicheng laughs at you, still holding his helmet from practice in one hand. “Please. Don’t act like you’re doing this for your team, we both know you’re just wanting to advance for yourself.”

If you could punch Sicheng without facing a lawsuit, your life would be so much easier. You take a step closer to him, ignoring the immediate flush in his cheeks at the proximity.

“I hope your team fails at the next game. I’ll be watching when you do.”

“Stop harassing him.” Mark approaches the scene, pulling his captain’s shoulder and pushing him away from you. “Just face that your team won’t make it. Can’t blame us for your failure.”

You smile sweetly at Mark. He’s been haunted ever since Donghyuck leaked his secret that he used to like you during your freshman year. Mark used to follow you around like a lost puppy, but now, he has no hesitation putting you in place. You know you still have the advantage over him because after all, he can’t deny the way his heart beats when he sees you.

Sicheng observes as you grip onto the fabric of Mark’s uniform, pulling him close until his nose is inches away from yours. Mark gulps at the proximity, not feeling so confident anymore.

“Don’t act like if I dropped to my knees right now, you wouldn’t jump at the chance to stuff my mouth full-”

“Okay!” Sicheng exclaims, pulling the blushing boy to his side. Mark’s cheeks are almost as bright as his uniform. Sicheng glares at you. “We’re going to win on Friday. Then, I’m taking your entire team’s budget.”

You smirk. “Good luck with that.”

—

“I’m not sure this is going to work,” Yeji remarks, watching as Doyeon pulls a tight black dress over your head. You roll your eyes at her comment while Chaeyoung helps you adjust the spaghetti straps of your dress.

“Don’t be so negative,” Seojeong flicks Yeji’s forehead, causing the younger girl to glare at her.

You’re all gathered in Doyeon’s living room, trying to hatch out a plan that Yeji believes is doomed to fail. Tonight was the celebratory party before the game, a dumb idea concocted by Donghyuck on every Thursday night. It goes to show how irresponsible the ice hockey team really is, getting wasted the night before their biggest game. However, tonight works in your favor, because as demonstrated just a few days ago, you still have Mark Lee in your waiting palm. All he needs is a little push away from his teammates and you’ve fully got him. Once the plan is in place, you highly doubt Mark will be able to perform well tomorrow. Considering he’s the team’s best player, taking him down secures a win for the figure skating team.

“Does everyone know their roles?” You check again, eyeing Yeji from her spot on Doyeon’s couch.

She scoffs. “Of course I do.”

“Good,” Chaeyoung nods. “Remember that this isn’t just for us but the future figure skaters for years to come.”

None of you have time to comment on Chaeyoung’s dramatics, already seeing how stressed she is by the way she tugs at her hair frantically trying to apply lip gloss on you. The girls finish getting you all dolled up when Seojeong gets a text.

“Yuta says Mark’s ready,” she announces. You thank the heavens that Yuta was able to get in the ice hockey’s team good graces, none of them expecting the figure skater to be a double agent.

“Let’s get him then,” you grin.

You’re quickly shoved into Yeji’s tiny car and the five of you are off to Donghyuck’s apartment. There’s commotion when you arrive — Sungchan standing on the couch and declaring Sicheng the cutest man alive, Ten giggling with Yangyang by the kitchen counter, Donghyuck’s tongue shoved down a random girl’s throat and Jeno trying to save Mark from choking in the bathroom. Your eyes meet Yuta’s and he winks at you, making sure no one else has seen your arrival. You lean on the doorframe of Donghyuck’s bathroom, smiling at the two of them. Jeno sees you first, urgently patting Mark’s back to save him.

“What’s wrong? Did he see a naked girl or something?”

Mark’s eyes shoot up at the sound of your voice and he gets even more flustered, coughing and choking even more now.

“Why are you here?” Jeno frowns.

You smile and shrug. “To enjoy the show. I can handle Mark from here, Jeno.”

Jeno laughs. “As if I would leave him with you.”

“But Yeji’s waiting in the living room. Are you really going to keep her waiting?”

You smirk at Jeno’s confliction before he finally gives in, leaving Mark and you in the bathroom. You shut the door while Mark recovers, downing a glass of water to help the food go down. “Why are you really here?” He asks once he’s calmed down. He tries not to linger on what you’re wearing, the swell of your breasts tempting him in this close proximity. His gaze flies to the ceiling when your hand wraps around his shoulder, pulling him in closer and letting his fingers rest on your hip.

“What’s wrong, Mark? Scared of a little action?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he hisses. “We’re going to win tomorrow. You can’t stop me.”

You pout. “Is the win really worth it, Mark? Do you want it more than my pussy around your cock?” He grunts lowly, fingers tightening around your waist. You smile. “Or what about your cock shoved down my throat until I can’t breathe? You could easily bend me over the sink and take me any way you want. Doesn’t that sound so much better?”

“Don’t,” he warns you, cord about to snap. “You’re being such a brat.”

He needs one more push. You lean closer to whisper in his ear. “Please, Mark? I want your cum inside me. Need it dripping down my thighs so everyone can see who I belong to.”

He breaks, growling as he pushes you against the sink. You giggle when his lips crash into yours, his hands quickly moving to push up the fabric of your dress. He delivers one slap to your clothed clit and you moan at the sensation.

“Fucking annoying whore,” he scoffs at you. “Look at you. So fucking desperate for money that you would drive all the way here just to take my cock like a good girl. That’s what you want, isn’t it? For me to fuck you until you cry?”

You nod frantically, whimpering. “Please please please. I want it so badly.”

He shoves two fingers in your dripping hole and you cry, back arching against the mirror. Mark’s fingers grip your cheeks and he turns you so that you’re looking right at him. You hold his stare when his thumb rubs frantically at your clit, fingers curling inside of you.

“S-So good, so good,” you blubber, eyes rolling back at the pleasure filling your veins.

You whine when he retracts his fingers but he’s quick to drop to his knees, ripping your underwear and flinging it to the side so he has no obstacles in his way. He immediately dives into your pussy, licking and sucking at your folds. You internally curse. You had no idea Mark was this good at eating pussy or you would’ve prepared yourself more. Your fingers tangle in his hair as his lips attach to your clit, abusing the nub by sucking harshly.

The pain throws you into your first orgasm, whimpering loudly as you fall apart around Mark’s tongue. He quickly cleans you up, not missing any of your juices as he licks your pussy clean.

His eyes darken when he stands, taking in the sight of you looking so fucked out on top of the bathroom sink. He’s about to unbuckle his belt before you stop him.

“I want to fuck at your place. Please?”

He nods at your request, helping you get down and adjusting your dress. It’s a little harder to walk since Mark ripped your panties, but you make do. You two exit the bathroom and you’re about to leave before you hear Donghyuck’s voice.

“Where the fuck are you two going?”

You glance at Mark, who’s a little irritated by his teammate’s appearance.

“Mind your own fucking business, Donghyuck.”

You smirk at the blonde boy’s shocked expression as you two leave his apartment. Mark walks fast, fumbling with the keys to his car.

“I didn’t know you could drive.”

“Trust me, I can’t.”

The drive to his apartment involves two pit stops, the first one happening because you desperately want to give Mark a blowjob and the second one happening because Mark desperately wants to taste you again.

When you finally get to his apartment, the both of you are already a mess. You don’t even make it to the bedroom — Mark shoving you down on his living room rug and pushing his cock deep inside you. You moan at the intrusion and Mark wastes no time, setting up a fast pace and ramming his cock into your sweet spot over and over again. You’re a drooling mess, letting him abuse your pussy. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls you upwards. He balances you so that your back is against his chest.

“Such a perfect little slut for me. What would the panel of judges at Worlds say when they see you? The future Olympic gold medalist begging for cock?”

“I would let them see,” you whisper back at him. “Let them know what lengths I would go to just to win that fucking competition.”

You fall apart around his cock again, your orgasms coming faster after the first two. You whine when you hear Mark’s constant grunts filling your ears.

“Cum inside, Mark. Want all of your cum.”

“Yeah? Little whore wants it all? Wants to be bred like a good little bitch?”

You cry. “Yes, yes, yes! I want it so badly.”

That’s all it takes for Mark to shoot ribbons of white inside of you, coating your insides. You both collapse on the floor, exhausted.

A few minutes pass in silence before Mark speaks up. “I’m ready to go again after I eat some ramen.”

You laugh. “Make it two servings and I’ll be ready.”

He eagerly gets up and shuffles to his kitchen. You smirk, searching for your phone and shooting a text to the group chat.

I’ve got him. The money’s all ours.

After eating ramen and chatting for a little bit, Mark takes you again on the barstool of his kitchen. Then, he fucks you up against the wall, on his couch and in his bed.

He’s thoroughly fucked out when you two finish and you smile, leaning over to kiss him.

“Good luck with your game tomorrow.”

You leave him laying in his bed, wondering if he just jeopardized the future of his team.

—

There’s one minute left in the game.

The team is down by one point and they’re all looking at Mark as they huddle together. Donghyuck hisses at him.

“Did she fuck you stupid? We’re going to lose everything because of you!”

Mark shakes his head, trying to compose himself. It’s hard to do so when he spots you in the crowd, smiling at him as if you want him to win. You’ve thoroughly fucked with his head, his thoughts constantly traveling to the image of you beneath him, sobbing as he shoves his thick cock into you mercilessly.

“This is your fault, Jeno!” Ten growls. “You should’ve never left Mark alone with her!”

“Everyone, shut up!” Sicheng bellows, annoyed by his teammates. “We’re going to lose if we don’t focus. What’s wrong with you, Mark?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Donghyuck scoffs. “I think I do.”

Sicheng glares at the younger male to be quiet. “I don’t care what it is anymore. There’s one minute left and I need you to get it together.”

“I will, I will,” Mark insists, even though he’s not so sure about it himself. They break the huddle and get back into the game, Mark trying to focus as the referee blows the whistle. Jung Jaehyun comes charging at him and Mark tries to dodge.

“Come on, Mark!”

As soon as he hears your voice overpower the audience, he loses his balance and Jaehyun slams him up against the wall. Mark groans when he tumbles to the ground and it isn’t long before he hears the final buzzer echo in the rink. The competing team jumps for joy, laughing with one another as they meet in the middle of the ice. Mark stays on the ground, watching pitifully as his teammates slump in defeat.

His eyes look for yours again in the stands, but you’re already long gone.

[gojology]

Let Me Spoil You. (18+) (NSFW)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | I AM FEEDING U GUYS SO GOOD ???? holy mother of a goose i poured my blood sweat and tears into this, bumping to yung gravy as i write this so u alrdy know this is gonna be a banger!!! also i didn’t edit at all and i got so lazy at the end n i didnt wanna scrap this so uhh sorry if its bad 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Dom Gojo x Sub Female Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 3683 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Dub-Con (I think?) Inexperienced Virgin Reader, Somnophilia, Degradation, Dom/Sub, Edging, Begging, Spitting 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | It’s your one month anniversary, and you really don’t like Gojo spoiling you, Gojo gets frustrated, he teaches you a lesson.    A soft orange filter glazed the bathroom, a humid breeze blowing in weakly from the window that was always open, no matter what. The shower head lightly sprinkled on you, mumbling curses to the shower head, you swatted, and lightly tapped it a few times before you realized you had to change the water pressure.     Facepalming, you hadn’t realized that you had changed the water pressure to ungodly levels. It was too late when you had realized, the water shot at your face, practically pushing you back. Water droplets adorned your cheeks, and your hair suddenly decreased in volume.     Gasping for air, you used your arm to wipe your eyes and quickly turned the temperature up to anything other than the freezing bitter cold, you stretched, indulging in the refreshing, hot water.    You had just gone out with Gojo for a luxurious dinner, even though it wasn’t quite your style, Gojo had insisted on taking you out to a fine-dining establishment. Small cuts of steak, with absurdly expensive champagne on the side, and of course, Gojo’s favorite, absurdly expensive desserts.    It had been almost a month since you had began to go out with him, and he had tried treating you like a princess ever since. Anything you set your eyes on, he offered to buy it, whipping out a black leather wallet that was close to snapping. Thick wads of cash sat untouched, and you always politely declined.     He had always argued with you, telling you that it was a given for significant others to spoil their loved ones. You always brushed it off, but in the latest argument between you two, Gojo was persistent, insisting that you were to dress in your finest and so that he could, “finally spoil my babygirl.”     You could still remember how the conversation went.     “No, Satoru.” you scoffed, turning to face him, leaning on the counter. Your arms crossed over your chest, “We can get JUST as good food if we order take out or some shit.”     “Listen, sweetheart,” he immediately rushed over, his hand on your ass, rubbing up and down, his other caressing your neck. “It’s nothing on me financially, I can handle it, I want to spoil you princess.”     You shook your head, looking down. He took his hand off your neck and rubbed his.     “I rarely get to spend time with you, between the meetings and the missions and training Yuuji, so let me do it just this once, is that okay, pumpkin? Besides, what do you lose from this? I made the reservation too, so we don’t have to wait. It’s a win win~”    You glanced up, before looking down again, ruffling your hair. An awkward silence grew between you two.    What did you lose from this? Even though Gojo was absolutely loaded, you still felt terrible spending money for unnecessary shit.    He looked at you, placing his hand on his chin, he looked like he was thinking, which was unusual, because the guy was as dumb as a snail sometimes. He let out a small “hm” stroking his chin as if he was debating with world renowned scholars before finally opening his mouth, “Oooooooooh, I get it now!”     You sighed, so dramatic.    He leaned forward, you always forgot how ridiculously tall he was, and how much he loomed over your figure. “Babe, don’t feel bad.” he tipped your chin upward so he could look you in the eye, even though he was quite literally wearing his blindfold, “this has been our 1 month anniversary, and what’s an anniversary without spending money on unnecessary shit?”    “I mean, I guess..”    Hesitantly agreeing, he shoved you upstairs into his room (and yours as well!) to throw on the best formal looking outfit you could find last minute. Digging through the drawers, you found a skin-tight black sundress that you had paired with a  layered delicate necklace Gojo had gifted you on your second week of dating. Hastily throwing on gold rings and a gold anklet just for the fun of it, you fluffed up your hair. You looked at your black high heels.    Hey, if you were gonna be so lavish looking, why not go all out?    You regretted that train of thought later on, and wondered why you didn’t just pull up in a simple white t-shirt.     Regardless, it was worth it at the end. Gojo looked stunning that night. Swapping out the regular blindfold for a pair of black sunglasses, it accentuated his chiseled features even more. His hair wasn’t what it was usually, it wasn’t spiked up at all. Instead, he wore it down. It looked much softer, and it framed his face perfectly. He wore a buttoned down dress shirt, and you felt your heart swell when other woman watched him walk by, their faces faltering when they realized his arm around your waist.     He even went to the extent of pulling the chairs out for you, and opening the car door, as if you were truly a princess. Admittedly, you found yourself enjoying the fine dining, even with the ridiculously small portions. The atmosphere, and the pampering from the waiters had grown on you.    While thinking about the events of your anniversary, the door creaked opened, Gojo’s head peaked just above the foggy glass doors of the shower.     You slightly slid the door open just a crack, you knew that most couples would immediately open the door and have their arms out, waiting for their significant other to immediately pleasure them in the shower, but you hadn’t done anything like that with Gojo yet.     Instantly met with his incredibly toned body, glowing in the hazy amber light from the window, you gulped. A towel draped over his veiny arms, and an incredibly large t-shirt with panties in the other.     You quickly realized the t-shirt as the one Gojo often wore, you had never worn one of his t-shirts before.    The endless missions had obviously done him well, he looked like he was sculpted from marble, a gift from heaven. Arms strong enough to hold the world, you wondered what it would be like to have him carry you around.     Your face flushed a bright red, you didn’t even know what it was like to be carried by him, the furthest you both went was making out, and even you had found yourself being too bad at it to do it consistently.     Lost in thought, you didn’t even realize what Gojo was saying. “Sugarplum? I got your clothes.” he murmured softly, setting the towel and clothes down.     Your breath hitched, watching his head turn to face the shower. Instantaneously looking down at your face peeking through.    You were never gonna hear the end of this one.    A small smile spread across his face, before disappearing into a large cocky smirk, now that he had realized what you were looking at. “It’s okay, I understand, pumpkin. Not many have the courage to tell me face to face that I’m the best. In terms of strength, and looks, and everything.”     You stuck out your tongue, blowing a raspberry.     “Fuck off, idiot, I’m trying to shower!”     “Ouch! I didn’t say that when you were ogling at my body, didn’t I? That really hurt my feelings, weren’t you ever taught the golden rule?”     His hand wove through his hair, and you couldn’t help realize how soft it looked without all the gel holding the iconic spikes together.    “Treat others how you want to be treated.” he winked.    Your mouth sealed shut, accepting your defeat, you slid the glass door shut loudly.     You heard loud booming laughter go down the hallway, gradually getting quieter and quieter before exhaling a sigh of relief as you continued to shower.     You couldn’t help but think about your boyfriend’s body once more, it seemed like a dream. Was he really yours? He had the body of a super model and he settled with you and not some ridiculously pretty girl?     Anyone would take advantage of such a handsome boyfriend, showing him off for the world to see.    You felt an unfamiliar throb between your legs, you looked down, head tilted to the side while also simultaneously furiously washing your hair.    You hadn’t felt this throbbing too much, it was almost like a yearning, and you were almost sure you knew what it was, but you didn’t quite want to admit it yet.    Shaking your head furiously, you wanted to finish your shower before anything else. Ignoring the obvious. ‧₊˚✩彡.    Rubbing your hair with your towel, you had thrown on the t-shirt and panties, cursing Gojo silently for not giving you a pair of shorts. Rummaging through the drawers in your room, Gojo suddenly appeared in the hallway.    “What are you looking for, love?” he leaned on the doorway, cocking his head to his side with a mischievous grin.    “Why don’t you ask yourself, considering that you were the one who gave me my clothes.” you scoffed, pushing the drawer you were searching for back and moving on to the next. You had forgotten which drawer had your pants, vivid images of Gojo’s body echoing through your mind.    “Your pants are on the left of the drawer.” he strode over to the king-sized bed, the mattress sinking down as he sat. “What are you thinking about?”    You scoffed again, looking at him with a side eye. “I’m not thinking of anything? What are you talking about?” 

   “Whenever you think, you forget literally everything around you.”

   Cursing the Gojo clan for ever birthing such a smart yet stupid child, you twirled around with a pair of shorts now in hand. “I do not!”

   “Yeah? Okay lil girl. Oh no, you’re not wearing those.” 

   You felt a throb yet again when you heard him call you lil girl. He snatched the pair of shorts up, dangling it just above your head. “Can’t I ever have my girlfriend wear something remotely sexy? I love your body. I want to see it all in its glory.” He placed it back into the drawer neatly.

   You froze. He was being incredibly straightforward, which wasn’t unlike Gojo, but you didn’t think he would make such large advancements. His arms snaked around your waist without you even realizing, breathing heavily as he placed your ass on his lap. 

   Readjusting to the new position, you looked up, fear and excitement brewing inside of you, was this going to be your first time having sex? You leaned in for a kiss.

   Just as he was about to give you a taste of his lips once again, a loud ringtone sounded. 

   “Fuck.” he cursed to himself, digging into his pockets and whipping out his phone, he gestured for you to be quiet. You whined a little, you had now realized what you were throbbing for.

   “Hello?” Gojo cocked his head to his side, placing the phone right next to his ear as it dangerously rested on his shoulder. A disgruntled look in his face, one hand squishing your ass. 

   “Mmmmmm, yeah, okay.” he placed the phone down on the covers, looking down to you, eye to eye.

   “That was a call from Ijichi, there’s some crazy shit going on somewhere, I have to take an emergency business trip.” he kissed your forehead gently, “I love you okay?” 

   Disappointed with the outcome, you nodded. He gave you a gentle few pats on your back before standing up, gently rolling you over on the bed, and rummaging through the drawers for his work uniform.  

   “As he casually undressed in front of you, you obviously stared, savoring the last few minutes of his body before he would disappear for the next few days, or maybe even weeks, or a month. 

   He looked back on you, just as he was entering the hallway. 

   “You forgot to say I love you.” 

   Looking up, you cursed to yourself, he didn’t have the usual playful cocky grin, now replaced with a worried one. 

   “I love you too.”

‧₊˚✩彡.

   It had now been a week since your 1 month anniversary, you had been blue balled so badly, it almost hurt. You were laying down on your bed, looking at the curtains flutter as a casual wind blew into the room. The sun was setting, and a beautiful dark blue canvas dotted with stars was sure to appear. 

   You had tried holding off, ignoring your walls desperately wrapping around something that wasn’t there. Constantly looking down, seeing that your panties were obviously soaked. The dreams weren’t helping either, Satoru had been appearing in your dreams and doing things that even he would be weirded out by, and he had seen some shit.

   Your arm snaked down to your panties, hand underneath the fabric. You breathed a sigh of relief as your unexperienced fingers circled your entrance, enjoying the slight tease. You heard the slight suckle of your walls around your fingers, enjoying the full feeling. 

   Yet you knew that this wasn’t the extent of things, you knew that there were much bigger, capable of reaching places you wouldn’t even dream of reaching. But you enjoyed the small amounts of pleasure anyways.

   You pulled your panties down, throwing it into the laundry basket and cursing yourself for making it so wet. Slowly thrusting in and out with the finger, you sighed a breath of relief. 

   “Fuck.” you gasped, as a white fluid pooled out of you onto the sheets. You cursed harder to yourself, realizing now that you had to wash them. 

   “Shit.” you couldn’t quite stop there though, you had even more aching between your legs, and you had to satisfy your cravings, you didn’t even know when Gojo would come home. 

   You gasped more, a second round of white fluids flowed out of you. The yearnings now gone, you yanked a tissue out of the tissue box, wiping your finger on it, too lazy to get up, you would worry about the cum later. Drifting off into a heavy sleep, dreaming once again about the ungodly things you wanted Gojo to do to you.

‧₊˚✩彡.

   “Gojo, s-stop.” you looked up at him as you sat on his lap, his fingers coated with your slick. His other hand played with the hem of your skirt. Not responding, he continued to quietly fingering you. 

   You quickly put a hand over your mouth, letting out a muffled moan, he snickered a little, before pulling out his fingers. 

   You whined a bit, earning a stare from a few people. Looking up at him with puppy eyes, you felt yourself wrapping around air.

   He sadistically smiled. You wondered how his eyes would look right now, unable to look at him because of his blindfold. 

   “Beg for it, slut.” he silently whispered, teasing your entrance. You let out a little whimper again, how were you to be quiet when he was doing all this to you?

   You opened your mouth slightly, about to beg, before being shut down completely as he shoved 3 fingers into you. 

   You let out a loud squeak, the whole restaurant now staring at you, eyeing you even across the room with displeased faces. You looked down, embarrassed. 

   He was now laughing at you, you looked up to him about to silently chew him out. Before opening your mouth, you were transported into a bright room. 

‧₊˚✩彡.

   Your eyes blinked, readjusting to the brightness. You realized that your legs were slightly colder then your upper half, realizing that you were completely naked down there. You blinked furiously, looking around, seeing someone’s incredibly muscular chest, with unmistakable white hair. 

   Rubbing your eyes, making sure that you weren’t seeing things, you mumbled, “Gojo?” 

   You felt something squirm around inside of you, letting out a loud moan as it pulled out. 

   “Hm?” he murmured sleepily, you looked down.

   Putting two and two together, his incredibly long fingers were glistening with a wetness. He shuffled a bit before finally sucking and licking his fingers, looking at you directly in the eye while doing so. 

   “What’s wrong, slut?” he smiled deviously again, resting his chin on your shoulder before thrusting 2 fingers back inside of you again. Curling them inside of you, indulging in the toe curling scream you made. 

   “Gojo! You’re...” he pulled his fingers out before you could finish, adding another finger, he was now up to 3.

   “FUCK, SATORU!”    With a lustrous glint in his eyes, he shoved his thumb and index finger into your mouth.     “That’s daddy to you, and look at your body. It’s practically begging for my cock by now. Oh princess, did I play with you for too long?” he slipped his fingers out of your needy pussy, smiling into your hair.     “Want daddy to fuck you?”    Your mouth suddenly dry, you looked at his neck. Not knowing how to respond, you nodded vigorously, sucking on his fingers.    He tipped your chin to look upwards at his face, staring directly into his aquamarine eyes.     “Use your words, whore. Or you’re not getting shit.” he pulled his fingers out of your mouth.     You coughed and spluttered into your arm, tears forming at the corner of your eyes.     His eyes went softer, pulling you into his chest. “Oh sweetheart, did I go too rough on you?”     You shook your head, before shakily replying, “I-I was just surprised y-you came e-early from the mission a-and...” you took a deep breath in, “I was... unp-prepared.    Before he could reply, you blurted out,    “P-please, daddy, use my tight l-little holes. I’m all yours to u-use.”     He smiled, “What a cute slut. You want me to spoil you, don’t you?”     You nodded, now rubbing your thighs together. Your slick coated your inner thigh and your breathing was getting hot.     “How come when I offered to, you didn’t want to obey me?”     “Y-you can’t compare the two-”    He spat into your open mouth. Smiling a bit when he realized that you had swallowed it, looking at him with even wider puppy eyes.    “No talking back, repeat after me, lil girl. When daddy wants to spoil me, I will let him spoil me.”     “W-when daddy wants to s-spoil me, I...” you took a shaky breath in, “I’ll let him spoil m-me.”     “That’s a good girl. Now turn to look at the wall.” he calmly replied, you obeyed, looking at the wall, anticipating for whatever happened next.     You felt something big touch your entrance. Something unnecessarily big, you whimpered. Realizing it was Gojo’s dick.     He chuckled a bit, smiling into your neck and then giving it a light suck. “It’s okay princess, this is your first isn’t it? I’ll make you into my cumslut afterwards. I’ll go nice and easy.”   Heaving a bit, he thrusted a little inside of you. You held your breath.     Strangely, it didn’t hurt at all. Even with the contrast between his incredibly thick and large cock, to your inexperienced, tight walls.     “Missy, you’re so wet.” huskily muttering into your ear, “almost like you’re milking my cock. So tight.”    He grunted, repositioning myself and letting out a small, “Fuck.” as he did so. You whined as he gradually put more and more of him inside of you.     You tightened around his cock, drooling as you did so. You didn’t realize your mouth was open.     “Babe, I can barely fucking pull out.” Gojo said, while he played with your hair, stroking your cheek.     “W-why not?”     “Nothing other then the fact that, a) you’re too tight around me, and b) you’re clenching incredibly hard for no real reason.” he once again, shoved his thumb and index finger for you to suck on, the other playing with your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple.     “Just relax, baby. Let daddy do all the work, okay?”     You weakly nodded, as he finished shoving the last of his length inside of you. Whimpering, and yanking your pillow out from its normal position to hug it.     You felt him pull out, and he slammed back inside of you once again.     You swore to God that you saw the light, a wave of pleasure and your body going numb as he did so. Letting out a shrill squeak, you hugged your pillow as hard as you can, your juices flowing down into the bed now, leaving an evident trail of where it once came from.    Gojo grunted, snuggling deeper into your body. There was barely any space between the two of you, but you still didn’t feel close enough.     The room was filled with the sound of sticky skin against stinky skin, panting, and moans. You felt every. single. bit. of him.     Now, he had begun to quicken his pace, slamming into your body more often, sending waves of pleasure inside of you. His hair stuck to his neck, sweat pouring down his body, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.     “Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck, I want to cum inside of you so badly, love.” he panted out of breath.     You whimpered, still unable to speak due to his fingers you were harshly sucking all this time. He laughed in response, before finally pulling out.     In a blink of an eye, he shot ropes of cum on your stomach, panting. You had finally gotten a good view of his cock, big was an understatement. Veins decorated the side of it, and the tip was a rosy pink.     “Lick some cum off of your pretty stomach, princess. I wanna see how pretty you look while doing so.”    Both of you breathing heavily, sweat dampening the sheets, his eyes bore into you. You gulped, even though you had done something so intimate with him, dominant Gojo was nothing to mess with.     You scooped some of his cum up with your finger and sucked on it, looking at him the whole time.     He grunted with approval, giving you a nice headrub.     “Well would you look at that.” he glanced at the wall, “it’s already morning. Wanna take a shower together, lil girl?”    On any other day, you’d make up an excuse, but you figured that you’d get fucked even harder if you told him you didn’t want to.     “Okay, daddy.”     “Good girl.”          

[hops-hunny]

College Girls

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Request: anon “How about Rodrick invites the reader to a party (he’s been crushing on her for the longest) but she plays hard to get and at the party her friends try to convince her to give him a chance and later it leads to them playing 7 minutes in heaven and they confess to each other and it goes from there ;) it could end in smut or fluff your way ly <3”

Summary: (college!au) College girls and their games, good thing Rodrick loves to play.

Warnings: Mentions of weed and alcohol, making out, teasing

A/N: Ok I forgot to make them confess but it’s implied sorry anon. I still hope you enjoy it!

If there was one thing Rodrick knew, college was a shit ton different than high school was. However, that wasn’t a bad thing. Unlimited booze and bud, hot chicks, and parties that never ended? He was practically in heaven! He had grown into himself, feeling more confident than ever since Heather had rejected him his senior year. In fact, he couldn’t recall the last time he thought about her but if he had to pinpoint it, it was a few months ago when she had hit him up, begging the boy to give her a chance. Oh the irony behind that. That was another good thing about college. In high school, all the girls thought he was just some loser who wasted too much time on a band that would always be shit. 

But with years of experience under their belt and more free time to practice, Löaded Diaper was beginning to become a big deal in their rinky dink shithole off a small town. God was he glad too because with clout, also came hot girls in skirts that barely covered their ass. The opportunity for endless amounts of hookups was an absolute dream come true, but all dreams lose their shine eventually. When fucking became a mere thing to pass the time between class, gigs, and parties, he realized that it wasn’t as great as he thought it was. He was starting to crave something more, something like or, someone like- her.

God she was a babe. Rodrick still remembered the first time he saw her. Löaded Diaper was doing another house gig, everyone in the crowd dancing and moving to the intense music. And all of a sudden, a strobe light glossed over her perfectly, almost like a halo of blue light and his eyes were hooked. She was there with her friends, one of them whispering something in her ear which caused her to lock eyes with his. Pretty (e/c) eyes meeting his own brown ones. It was almost perfect, almost. As soon as they had finished the last note of their song, without missing a beat she swiftly made her exit and he made his way after her. Rodrick jumped off the stage, chasing after her and her friends all the way till they reached the curb. He grabbed her arm causing the girl to look back.

“Hey, uh, did you enjoy the gig?” He asked, running his fingers through his sweaty hair nervously. He felt his nerves rise even more at the sound of her friends’ giggles.

“I wouldn’t have stayed the whole gig if I didn’t, would I?” she retorted, rolling her eyes as she began to open the passenger door of the black mercedes.

“Yeah, I guess that was a dumb question..” he trailed off as she closed her door. His eyes widened at the fact he hadn’t gotten her name prompting him to take off after the car. He felt relieved as the girl rolled down her window, looking up at him through her thin framed sunglasses. “Wait! I didn’t get your name, I’m Rodrick.” he smirked, watching as she pulled her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head.

“Didn’t give it.” she quipped, sending him a wink as her friend took off into the distance. Who was she? All he knew about her was that she had a mouth on her and lived on the other side of campus. A lot of girl’s fit that description so it wasn’t easy asking around about her. However, as he stood here in the corner of the party his fraternity was throwing, he’d recognize a pair of nice legs like that from anywhere. His eyes took in her appearance. She had on a denim mini skirt, black turtleneck and a pair of knee high boots that matched. The boy had to practically stop himself from gawking at how good she looked, curves clinging to every bit of the form fitting outfit. He cleared his throat as his friend nudged him, looking to see what he wanted.

“Uh don’t look now, but I think that girl you were eye fucking is definitely eye fucking you back dude. Is that the chick from the gig a few weeks ago that you won’t shut up about?" Rodrick glared at the man, shoving him into the wall before walking towards her. He watched as her friends “coincidentally” all began to head off in other directions, leaving her to offer him a flirty little smile behind the drink she’d been nursing.

“Well if it isn’t the little drummer boy! To what do I owe the pleasure, Rodrick?” she purred, sitting down her now empty cup. She stepped forward, leaving them to be pressed chest to chest. It could easily be blamed on the crowded room but the two knew otherwise. He smirked back at her, wrapping his arms around her waist securely.

“I’m a simple man. I see a pretty girl sending looks my way, I come.” his eyes widened as he began to overthink his word choice. “N-not like that! Like I come over not like cum in my pants. I-I’m not like some virgin...well I’m not some man whore either! I don’t fuck around a lot. Not like the option isn’t there bu-” he quit his nervous ramblings at the sound of her laughter. He relaxed, smiling as the girl wrapped his arms around her neck. He began to lean in thinking she would ask him for a kiss but instead she missed his lips, putting hers next to his ear before whispering,

“Wanna dance?” Before he could answer, the girl (who’s name he still didn’t catch) was dragging him to the dance floor, moving his hands to rest on her hips. He tried to keep his movements as fluid as possible. It took him a bit but eventually his movements matched hers, as they swayed to the beat of the song. She pressed her head against his shoulder, looking up at him as she continued the movements against his pelvic area. “I love this song, it’s one of my favorites.” she whispered. He didn’t know if it was because he was cross faded or his enjoyment of the movements but D’Evils by SiR was beginning to become one of his favorite songs too. How could it not when there was such a pretty girl pressed against his front?

“Yeah? It suits you.” he muttered, leaning his head down to hover his own chapped lips above the girl’s soft gloss covered ones. She hummed in agreement, both of them slowly inching towards each other before she stopped, letting out a cheeky giggle.

“Did you really think I was going to kiss you that easily? You’ve gotta earn it.” She said, dragging a manicured hand against the skin of his neck. He shivered a bit as goosebumps formed, watching as she disappeared back into the crowd. He swore some, groaning as he fiddled with the growing bulge in his jeans. Was he out of the game for too long or had girls always been this hard to get? Either way, he didn’t care. Rodrick was gonna get this girl and her name by the end of the night if it was the last thing he ever did. He broke out of his thoughts, keeping sight of her figure making its way through the beaded curtain which led to the basement of the large frat house. Quickly he chased after her, trying to keep up with her. And, as if on purpose, every time he’d get close she’d flash him that breathtaking smile and continue on her path. Finally, she reached her supposed destination, a small group of people on couches, discussing the plans to play something. 

“So, what’s the game?” He asked, causing everyone to look up at him as he sat on the couch farthest from her. He looked at the bottle in the center of the table, proud of himself and his seating choice. The further he was away, the more likely the bottle was to land on the pretty thing across from him.

“7 minutes in heaven. You down?” A brunette girl asked, a flirty look in her buzzed eyes. He ignored her small attempt at an advance, nodding as he locked eyes with the girl of the hour. He shot her a wink, smirking as she rolled her eyes, biting her lip to hide the smile that was making its way onto her face. For someone so adamant about playing this game of cat and mouse, she seemed to be fighting off her feelings very harshly. None of that mattered now though. If there was a god, he hoped he’d be on his side. Never had he wanted to be stuffed inside a muggy dark closet with someone so badly.

“Of course I’m down. Do I look like a pussy to you?” he asked, watching as the (h/c) haired girl opened her mouth. He gave her a pointed look, tilting his head at her. “Don’t answer that, legs.” The girl looked surprised at the nickname but didn’t say anything, trailing her acrylic nails up the curve of her thigh. His brown eyes followed curiously, jumping slightly as she closed her legs quickly giving him a mocking pout. Tonight was going to be a long night.

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

Round after round was filled with surprises, none involving Rodrick or the mystery girl of his affections. Sometimes, the two people involved would cheer or jump up excitedly, ceasing the moment that they were desperately waiting for. Other times they would groan in disgust and hell, he couldn’t blame him with the hygiene of some of these people. Have they ever even heard of a shower, deodorant? Only their BO could tell. However, his odds grew more and more as it was finally his turn to spin the bottle. He picked it up, kissing the empty beer bottle as he made up some prayer. He let out a deep breath before spinning the bottle. As he watched it spin, the only thought he could seem to form was, ‘Please, please please. Cmon, cmon, cmon!’

Finally the bottle began to halt, making a rumbling noise as it stopped. His eyes followed the nose of it, letting out an internal cheer as his eyes met the (e/c) eyes from across from him. He pulled up his jeans before walking over to the girl, holding a hand out to her. She eyed it before smirking up at him, allowing her to pull him up. Rodrick looked down at her hand before tangling his fingers with her own, pulling her towards the closet. Once they both were in there, silence overcame them leaving the muffled music from upstairs to be the filler between silent space. He cleared his throat some, catching the shorter girl’s attention.

“Sooo, um. Would this count as earning it?” He quipped, giving her a flirty grin. The girl rolled her eyes before moving closer to him, pulling him down to her own height as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Rodrick wasted no time, pulling the girl by her hips and planting his on hers. The kiss was everything he’d hope it’d be. Passionate, hot, and filled with every bit of desire that had built up over the course of the party. He nibbled at her lip, causing a moan to slip from her lips. He smirked a bit, pulling away some to look into her eyes a bit.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to be a good kisser. You looked like you would give me a lot of teeth and too much tongue.” she giggled some, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it. He rolled his eyes, smirking as he leaned in, nibbling on her neck a bit. He felt victory overcome him at the soft whimper that came from her lips.

“My pride’s a bit wounded, princess.” he purred, lifting her up as he pinned her against the wall. He leaned back in for another kiss, this one more deep and intense than the last. He groaned softly as she tangled her fingers in his hair, gripping at it slightly. He slid his tongue over her bottom lip, quickly tangling it with hers when she opened her mouth. They’re tongues danced a bit, fighting for dominance before he won. He absorbed her moans, sucking on her tongue as he slid a hand under her skirt, stroking the skin of her upper thighs. Rodrick noted how soft her skin was before gripping at it harshly, stroking her hips with his thumbs.

Just as he slid his hands under her shirt, a knock broke them out of their kiss. He groaned in annoyance, pulling away and fixing her clothes for her as the door was ripped open. The (e/c) eyed girl was the first to walk out, looking back at him as if she had something to say.

“(Y/n).” she said, causing him to look at her in confusion. “My name? It’s (Y/n). I hope this isn’t a habit of yours, making out with girls whose names you don’t even know.” she said, looking up at him expectantly. His mouth opened and closed as he stuttered, searching for the words to say. He cleared his throat before grabbing her hand, beginning the path to his own room.

“Not anymore it isn’t.”

[yeojaa]

( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )

Money’s something that makes the world go around.  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag.  You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.  

That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash.  You simply can’t let it go on.

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  idiots to lovers.  fluff, angst, smut.  the holy trifecta, babies!  explicit, obviously.  

tags / warnings.  mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).

wc.  12.2k of nonsense.  pure nonsense, i tells ya. 

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow​ dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her.  i love you both sm!!!  ✨💜

author note.  the long-awaited fic is here!!  i really hope you enjoy it.  if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something?  i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot.  anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you!  stay safe and happy and healthy!

He’s a sucker.  That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him.  It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard. 

His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove.  Sometimes, she’s by herself;  often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste.  They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique.  Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be.  You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit. 

“He has no idea.”  It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts.  “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”

How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder.  How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair?  It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie. 

(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”.  Her words, not yours.)

You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else.  Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention.  Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him.  Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.

You’d never expected him to be like this.

Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face. 

Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.

“He’s cute,”  she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does.  She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough.  Zero tact, though.  Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble.  You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.

You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested.  “Who?”

There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags.  (God, what awful taste.)  There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best.  (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)

“Him.”

Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction.  You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place.  Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on.  When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.

You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes.  He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW.  Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress  is.  

But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect.  It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.  

“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?”  He upspeaks.  It’s stupidly adorable.

Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first.  A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect.  “What’s the item and the name it’s under?”  You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.

“Oh, it’s under mine.  Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” 

You’re floored.  This is Jeon Jungkook?  This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger?  You’ve got to be kidding.

You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face.  It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers.  “I’ll grab it!  The Box bag in cloud, right?”

Jungkook can only nod dumbly.  He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends.  He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance.  It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears.  There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.  

It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.

“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend?  I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.”  Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off.  “She said she was leaving on Friday.”  Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made.  “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”

It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall.  You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.  

You do feel bad.  Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this.  For hurting this stranger.  (At least he knew?)

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.”  Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality.  He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip.  He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet. 

If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off.  Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in.  (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.)  As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you’re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth.  “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend.  Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”

Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid.  Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours.  Poor guy.

“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”

Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say.  Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation.  “Oh, maybe.  I’m sorry.”  The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t.  That’s a thing, right?  Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?  

God, you’re an altruist. 

“It’s fine.”  When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not.  You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word.  (You won’t.)

“Here it is!”  Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands.  If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing.  You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand.  He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.

Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying.  You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.  

He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.

By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found.  Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start.  Well then.

“I guess we’ll have to call him,”  you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands.  It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card.  The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.

Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently.  You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.

Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder.  It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum.  (You either, but still.) 

“So… what was that about?”

You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers.  “What?”

“You know— that!”  She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago.  “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”

“Scared of the truth,”  you correct. 

You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response.  There it is. 

“What?”  There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable. 

“What?”  It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery.  You can read every emotion that runs through her expression:  shock, displeasure, confusion.  

She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth.  (She really does remind you of your little sister.)  “So, you told him?”

You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder.  You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now.  There was no way he didn’t. 

“I pointed out a few conflicting facts.  That’s all.”  You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done.  You’d want to know if you were him.  Consider it an act of goodwill. 

The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind.  What’s done is done.  Now he knows, or something close to it.  The chips would simply fall where they were meant to. 

You have to admit - you’re rooting for him. 

Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift.  She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway.  Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding.  It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship. 

It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening. 

She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter.  “You have to call him.”

You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression.  “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.”  You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person.  Sensible. 

As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.  

You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front.  You suppose it’s your responsibility now.  You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell. 

The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker.  “Hello?”

“Jungkook?”  

There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?”  Upspeaking again. How cute. 

“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.”  You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter.  “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

“O-oh, uh—“  It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable.  “Thanks.  I didn’t even notice.  Um, I can come pick it up today?”  There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back.  “Is that okay?”

Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out.  He truly was a sucker. 

“That’s fine.  We’re open until six tonight.”  

“I’ll be there before dinner.”  As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough.  “Before six, I mean.  Um, is around five-thirty okay?” 

You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation.  Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation.  “Of course.  We’ll see you then.” 

He hangs up immediately. 

The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last.  It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest.  You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.

As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon.  You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.

Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.

How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday.  Somehow, you like it more.  The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair.  It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person.  (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)

At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him.  Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.  

“O-oh.  It’s you.”  The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified.  “I m-mean, just—”  He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again.  “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.”  Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.  

“That’s right,”  you say evenly, expression neutral.  It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.  

The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary.  Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room.  You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.  

He’s so awkward.

(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)

“So, um, my wallet?”  He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store.  You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.  

“Right here.”

Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again.  He makes the same trip twice more.  “Can I have it?”  To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed.  He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress.  Good job, you think.

“Of course.”  You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter.  Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip.  You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything.  (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment.  Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)

This time, he closes the distance with three long strides.  It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended.  Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact.  “May I have it, please?” 

You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand.  You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable.  Is he going to say thank you?  Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?

Neither, it seems.  “Why did you do it?”  There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.

“Do it?”  You know what he means.  You ask anyway.

“Why did you tell me?”  Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you.  You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him;  it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side.  For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.

Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies.  It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his.  “I thought you deserved to know.”

“But why?” 

“What do you mean?”  

It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror.  He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.  

You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head.  It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.  

“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.

You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.  

He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin.  (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes.  Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)

“Excuse me.”  For once, he doesn’t sutter.  The lisp doesn’t present itself, either.  Was this the same Jungkook?  You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.

There he is.

“Yes, Jungkook?”  He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name.  How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit?  It makes no sense to you.

“Can we talk?”  The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no.  You’ll still mess with him a bit though.

“We are talking.”

He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly.  It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.  

“I mean like— talk talk.”  The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else.  His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.  

“Sure, we can talk talk.”  

“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”

You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way.  “Are you asking me on a date?”  

“W-what?  No!”  Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears.  “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”

“I’m kidding.  Let’s go.”

You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance.  He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow.  Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.  

“So, what do you want to talk about?”  It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down.  His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving.  You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie.  It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall.  “Jungkook?”

He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly.  “Huh?”  

“What did you want to talk about?”  

“Um—”  He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence.  There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking.  “—m-me?”

Brows furrow then amusement spills out.  “You want to talk about… you?”  

“That sounds bad.”  The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.  

“It’s fine.  We’ll talk at dinner.”  

He nods.  You think it means thank you.

Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy.  Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.  

It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.

“What did you want to eat?”  He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden.  Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure.  (You have a feeling it’s the former.)

“Whatever.”  Everything here is incredible.  You really don’t mind.

Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place.  His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel.  You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish. 

When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections.  Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.

“So?”  You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.  

He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute.  “So?”  

“What did you want to talk about?”  If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often.  As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper. 

“Oh.”  Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth.  He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle.  You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting.  He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.

You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

It’s not the answer you’d expected.  It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline.  “What?” 

He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot.  You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip.  Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.

“Thank you.”  It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.

You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you.  You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel.  Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you.  You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.

You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.

The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable.  A little different, sure, but altogether nice.  Like dining with an old friend.

You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake.  You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water.  “You’re welcome, I guess.”  

Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not.  His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does.  (Seriously, how big are his eyes?)  You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth.  Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.

“What?”  He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.  

“What?”  You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.

“Y-you’re staring at me.”  

“You’re sitting in front of me.”

The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out.  It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent.  Oh?

“You don’t have to stare.”  Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.  

You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare.  “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?”  The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.  

“That’s not my name.”  The bite disappears past his teeth.  You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.

“Sorry— Jungkook.  Does my staring bother you?”

It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do.  Juvenile in a way but enticing in another.  You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s rude,”  he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.

“Maybe I’m just rude.”

He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down.  (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.)  “You’re not.”

You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation.  He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations.  He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.  

It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea.  Anything to busy his hands, you think.

“You don’t know that,”  you finally return, after what seems like too long.

“I do.”  He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact.  “You care about people.  You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone.  You want to do what’s right.  Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”

For once, you’re at a loss for words.  Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.  

How the tables have turned.

He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey.  He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts.  He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up.  He decorates his apartment with the most random things:  limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates.  He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.

He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years.  All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on.  (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.)  He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his).  He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.

“I just… don’t like wasting my time,”  he insists from behind his coffee cup.  

“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”  

Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh.  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”  He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable. 

“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.”  It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap.  It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now.  He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had.  Youngin is good for him, though.  You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.

“You say that a lot.”

“I mean it when I say it.”

He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips.  When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone.  “Girls are scary.”

You laugh.  Cackle, really.  You can’t help it.  He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon.  He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak.  He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says.  (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)

“Heights are scary.  Death is scary.  Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”

“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”

“Don’t interrupt.”  He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest.  From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture;  from him, it’s patient.  “Girls aren’t scary.  Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.” 

“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”  

You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good.  Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags.  Like he’s living life in greyscale. 

“Well, that’s what you have me for.”

The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze.  Instead, he laughs.  “I’m not hopeless.”

“Oh, but you are.”  You’re adamant, insistent.  He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft.  An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.  

You want to protect him, teach him to fly.  Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.  

You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes.  He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it.  He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.  

“Fine,”  he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long.  It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused.  It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.

“You won’t regret it.”

Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days.  You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.

It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.  

He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse.  If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton.  He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew).  He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.

The girls would probably still love it.  (It’s easy to love him.)

“What do you think?”  It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso.  It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm. 

It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him.  He wants great.

You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for.  To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings.  “Not bad…”

You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.  

Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is. 

How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence?  (You wish you were joking.)  It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.  

“This one?”  He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face.  Medium-weight cashmere.  Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist.  It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.

“Look at you go,”  you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels.  “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”

Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law.  You suppose it is.

“Thanks, ____,.”  He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.  

Your response is a shrug.  “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.”  You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates.  You know there’ll be something good on the menu.  

He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist.  You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him.  Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink.  Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.  

Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch.  That was a viable plan, right?

You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other.  “Hey!  You’re leaving already?”  It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone.  It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.

There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes.  For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes.  “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.”  A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.

Flowers, huh?  Well, that’s certainly something new.  Good for him, you think. 

“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.”  It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words.  “She’s special.”

Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her.  Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes).  Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date.  It’s a big deal. 

“Yeah—“  Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky.  “I guess she is.”

You smile fondly, like a proud mother.  “Go get ‘em, tiger.”  

“I will,”  he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.  

You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place.  It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look.  “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Leaving?”  

“Why?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?  

You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever).  It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you.  He’s going on a second date, after all.  Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant.  You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.

But it’s fine.  Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine.  The two of you are friends.  You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come.  Baby boy was growing up. 

“Y’know.”  You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment.  It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.

“I know?”  He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.  

You wiggle your hand dismissively.  “Second date and all that.”  

Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on.  It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots.  “Just stick around.  I’ll drive you home when I get back.”

It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him.  “Fine.  I’ll stay.”

He beams, caught halfway out the door.  “Tell me to break a leg.”

“Go break her back,”  you retort to the sound of his laughter.

You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake.  It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.

It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook.  This can only mean one thing.

from jeon jungkook:  Hey. from jeon jungkook:  I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight. from jeon jungkook:  If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning. from jeon jungkook:  Please don’t be mad.

Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date.  It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing.  (Even after months of friendship, it���s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)

to jeon jungkook:  i officially hate you

The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops.  Of course.  He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions.  (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)

to jeon jungkook:  it’s fine!  have fun! to jeon jungkook:  turn her world upside down 😏

He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up.  Good, you think.  About time he finds someone nice.  You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.  

Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.

He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact.  He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic. 

“I want you to meet her,”  he mumbles, like that makes it better.  As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?”  He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over.  (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.)  You repeat yourself.

“It’s not… weird.”  But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is.  Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately.  “She wants to meet you too.”

(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)

You somehow highly doubt that.  No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman.  It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set.  Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise.  It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch.  (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)  

“What does she even know about me?”

“That we’re friends.”  His vague response speaks volumes.  The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery.  When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway.  “That I really value your opinion.”

You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.

“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!”  Of course.  It’s obvious.  She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that.  (He is.)  “I’m not coming to dinner.”  

“You’re already in the car,”  he reasons.  

You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve.  Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.

“I just won’t go in.”

“____,.”  When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him.  Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal.  Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.

“No.”

“____,,”  he repeats, almost pleading.  You can’t look at him.  You won’t.  The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.

You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause. 

“Fine.”  You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off.  You’re not actually mad.  Just worried.  You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand.  It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person.  You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.

Jungkook knows that.  Should, anyway.  You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.  

When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it.  He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line.  (Truthfully, it’s your fault.  All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)

You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by.  You’ve got a reputation to uphold. 

“You’re paying for my dinner.”

“Of course.”

How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat?  How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?

Answer:  you’ve lost count.

Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.  

“What’re you doing here?”  At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness.  Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.

Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really).  “C-can I come in?”

You don’t budge.  It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired.  So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance.  He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin.  You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.  

(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)  

You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day.  “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”

“Please let me in,”  the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well.  Everywhere but your eyes.

“Fine,”  you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold.  You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else.  If you had to guess, it’s her perfume.  It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses.  You don’t know if you like it.

Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.  

You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter.  You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.

You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare.  “So?”

“W-what?”  

It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning.  Something’s happened.  Must have.  There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.

“What’s going on?”  You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him.  He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.  

(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)

“What do you mean?”

The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression.  He’s stalling, you can tell.  You hate when he does this.  You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small.  “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced.  What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”

He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.

It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges.  You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual.  Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned.  (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)

With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.

He nods once - a small up and down of his head.  

“So.”  You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves.  You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest.  He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs.  Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.

“I couldn’t do it.”  The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said.  Couldn’t do… it?

You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.  

When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look.  It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.

“You didn’t ask her?”  It explodes out, a question that demands an answer. 

He’s staring past your head, unblinking.  You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp.  “I c-couldn’t.  It was just…”  The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.

“Just what?”  

“Just—”  There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot.  He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise.  He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket.  “It didn’t feel right.”

What did that even mean?  Feel right?  

Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete.  It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down.  Didn’t he understand that?  Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?

You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.  

“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’”  You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window.  “You like her, don’t you?”

You expect him to nod immediately.  He doesn’t. 

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” 

“You like her, right?”  

“I think so.”

You want to tear your own hair out.  Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there.  “So, you like her.”  It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way;  you don’t mean it in any way but supportive.  You just want him to be happy.  “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”

“She’s not you.”  

He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer.  But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise.  Hope, maybe?  Fear?   

“What?”  You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.

The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight.  He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer.  (It won’t.)

“Don’t say things like that.”  

It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest.  His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair.  He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer.  Bambi, through and through.

“You asked why I didn’t do it,”  he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.

“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.”  It’s cruel.  “You’re making a bad choice.  You’re into this girl.  Don’t be dumb.”

His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements.  “I’m not dumb.”  There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask.  It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.  

He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.  

When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.

“Okay.  Spill.”

Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question.  You can’t blame her.  You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.  

All because of a doe-eyed idiot.  

“What?”  It’s less snark, more sigh.  You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.  

“What’s going on with you?”  

“Nothing.”  

“Bullshit,”  she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter.  “You’ve been in a bad mood all week.  I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.”  She’s right, of course.  You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what.  “Did something happen?”  

You grit your teeth.  An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.

“____,”  she tries again, concerned.  

“Nothing happened.”

“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!”  She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly.  “You look like hell—”

“Thanks.”

“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough.  So just tell me?”

You hate that she’s right.  It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload.  (Maybe it’d be helpful.  Probably.  But you’ve never found comfort in other people.  At least, not like this.)

“Yejin.”  Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on.  “It’s fine.  Really.”  You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile.  “I just need to get some sleep.”  And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.

Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.  

The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action.  It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.

(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)

“You’re here.”  You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater.  He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.

“Y-you asked,”  he mutters, refusing to meet your stare.  At least, you think he’s refusing.  It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.  

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes.  It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away.  It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.

“Will you come in?”  You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated.  He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding.  “I won’t bite.”

You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.

“So.”  This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him.  He hums a noise but offers nothing further.  

This is how it’ll be then.  Fine.  If he wants to be this way.

“You like me.”

He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go.  He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth.  “I—  I don’t—  I didn’t say that.” 

If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.  

“Tell me why.”

The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now.  Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.  

“W-what?”

“Tell me.”  You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round.  “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters.  What have I got that she doesn’t?”  

“You’re serious?”  

“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”

The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion.  You think he might say no, outright refuse.  You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.  

“You’re funny.  You’re honest.  You speak your mind.”  You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people.  He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him.  “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t.  You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”  

For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen.  As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.  

“I don’t—”

“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.”  He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again.  “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”  

There’s something thick in your throat.  

“You make me want to try.”  He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it.  “Y-you make things not so scary.”  

It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you.  He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.

“You know what I need, even before I know myself.  You make me laugh.”  He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.”  You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit.  Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.  

You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs.  Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.

When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words.  They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism.  “I can’t.”

As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention.  “Can’t or won’t?”

“I—”

“I’m not asking for the world here.  Just a chance.”  He’s got a peculiar look on his face.  “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”

“Excuse me?” 

All of a sudden, he’s close.  Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be.  There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down.  The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.  

“You kind of ruined my life.  I think this makes us fair.”

You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense.  You’d ruined his life?  (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.)  You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.

Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.  

“I’m kidding.”  

It feels like whiplash.  You’ve created a monster.  

“But you do owe me, I think.  So why not?”

You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.

Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing.  He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams. 

He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out.  He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed.  He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money.  He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.  

You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him).  If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either.  Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.

(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge.  He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)

“Open it,”  he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.

You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you.  You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom.  “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”

Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff.  It’s adorable.  

“Just open it.”

You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends.  You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head.  You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.  

Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.  

You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups.  Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.  

Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together.  Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects.  Surely there’s more to this.  Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?

“Do you like it?”  You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.  

“What is it?”

“It’s a playsuit.”  

“A playsuit?”  You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in.  Would it even fit?  Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.

He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns.  “Will you wear it?”

It fits you better than you’d expected.  Or at least, you think it does.  If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim. 

The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal.  He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.

“S-so wet,”  he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds.  The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs.  He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick.  “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.  

“Use your words, gorgeous.”  As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.

The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck.  He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.

“What did I say?”  

Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob.  Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh.  He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.

When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be.  The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.  

“You like this, don’t you?”  His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy.  “You like what I’m doing?”

“Y-yes,”  you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts.  The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin.  Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.  

“Good girl.”  Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips.  You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall.  Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips.  “Such a good girl for me.  My perfect girl.”

Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.

“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she?  Wants me to fill her up?”

He’s teasing you, the bastard.  Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate.  It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest.  Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.

“Say it.  Say you want me.”

You do, without hesitation, without fear.  You know he’ll catch you.  “I want you.”  

He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same.  Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.  

Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm.  The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.

“B-be mine,”  he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer.  Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.

“I am.  I am.  I am,”  you chant, tears welling along your lash line.  They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.  

They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you.  It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you. 

It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much.  Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.

You’re his and he’s always been yours. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings​ @veronawrites​ @notmontae97​ @papillonsgf​ i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e

[dreamescapeswriting]

Under The Table ~ LF [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.4K

GENRE: Smut, fluffy, teasing, use of names “cock whore,” oral both F and M receiving, cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it people) 

PAIRING: Lee Felix x Fem!Reader 

The dorms were unusually quiet when you walked through the door, your boyfriend was sitting on the sofa concentrating on a game while you could hear mumblings coming from the kitchen. This was as quiet as it could ever be in the dorms considering there were eight men that acted like children living there. You figured the rest of the boys were all doing their own thing while Chan and Hyunjin were cooking was you suspected to be a lovely meal,

"Y/n? Oh, thank god!" You heard a dramatic sigh from Hyunjin as he called out your name, gesturing for you to join him and Chan in the kitchen, Felix looked up from his console and smiled at you. Taking in your appearance as you headed into the kitchen to see what the boys wanted. You were wearing his favourite outfit on you, a black floral dress with your hair just the way he liked it. He knew you'd dressed up for him which made him feel warm inside at the thought of finally getting to see you.

"I need your tasting ability, Chan said it's spicy." You rolled your eyes at the comment of spice coming from the one member who couldn't handle species in the slightest. Chan stared at you with his arms folded across his chest waiting for some kind of sarcastic comment to come since he knew you all too well to know something was coming his way.

"Why do you ask Chan? He can barely handle ginger nut biscuits," You teased, taking a clean spoon from the drawer and trying some of the soup that was bubbling on the stove in front of you. It looked as though it would be a little spicey but nothing that was too much since they all knew how much Chan hated the spice.

"Seems perfectly fine to me Hyunjin, Chan's just a baby." You nudged Chan playfully in the side before leaving to go and join Felix on the sofa ignoring the sarcastic laughter coming from Chan. It had been so long since you and Felix got to hang out together and this was the first time you'd seen him in over two weeks so you were going to take every opportunity to get as close to him as you could, 

"I missed you," You whispered, wrapping your arm around his as you laid your head on his shoulder watching him play on the game you'd gotten him recently for the switch. It turned out he was just as addicted to Stardew Valley as you were, playing it every spare moment that he could. 

"I missed you too," He cooed, saving the game before he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and snuggled together with you, staring down at your dress as he played with the hem. 

"You like it?" It was a stupid question since you knew this happened to be the dress that Felix loved on you, well...loved to rip off of you but who could blame you for wanting to tease him just a little? 

"You know I do," He growled in a low voice so that only you could hear him speaking, the doors to the dorm bedroom's opened and slowly the boys began to appear one by one. Some of them going into the kitchen to sneak a taste of the food while the others came to talk with you. You'd gotten close with each of them over your time with dating Felix, it was as if you were apart of the family. 

"Are you staying tonight?" Jisung asked as he stole the switch from the coffee table in front of you all, earning a death glare from Jeongin who had initially been going to grab it first.

"I wish, I'm up early tomorrow for work and I didn't want to wake anybody up," You pouted, Felix's grip around you tightened as he thought about letting you go later that night. All he really wanted to do was keep you with him longer than he could, just the two of you. As much as he loved the fact that you got along so well with the boys he wished he could have some time with you by himself, the two of you hadn't gotten that in so long. 

"Are you coming back after work?" Felix whispered to you as the boys began talking amongst one another, as you turned to look at Felix you realised how upset he seemed that you would be going home soon after eating but you nodded. 

"If you want me to? I have some time off so I can come over..." He nodded at him, placing a small and quick kiss on your cheek as neither of you was fond of being overly public with your affection for one another not wanting to gross the other boys out or rub it in their faces.

"Sounds perfect to me, I have no practice this weekend," You smiled at the thought of you both waking up in the mornings together, it was normally spent laying in his bottom bunk your head laid on his chest listening to his slow heartbeat while he ran his fingers up and down your back. It was one of the most relaxing ways to wake up beside Felix, not to mention the most romantic if he decided he wanted to sing to you in the mornings. 

"Dinner is served," Your thoughts were interrupted by Hyunjin who was ringing a small bell to announce that everything was ready, Felix tapped your knee and you both raised from the sofa.

The table was spread out beautifully, seats were around the table with place settings and cute napkins laid out. 

"We went a little over the top," Hyunjin chuckled as he pulled out two chairs, one for you and the other for Felix beside one another at the end of the table. This was just supposed to be a cute "we missed you" meal but it looked as though Chan and Hyunjin had prepared a full course meal and the table was decorated for a restaurant.

"Dig in," Chan called out as everyone glanced at one another nervously not knowing if they should start or not, 

"Here," You laughed softly picking up your spoon and showing that the soup was fine to eat and the boys followed along. Even Chan decided to eat some of the soup as he began eating. All of you exchanging conversations about how their week had been going, talking with one another about all of the different things that they had been up to. 

Throughout the meal your hand innocently began to rest on Felix's knee while you spoke with Changbin about some of the songs he'd been working on recently. 

"I've been working on a joke song lately, Chan and I have been blocked," He sighed as he shook his head, Chan immediately laughing as he remembered the day they had spent in the studio creating a joke song together.

"What's it called?" You questioned with a hesitant tone, staring at Changbin who was starting to turn a little red. 

"Can't Live Without You Changbin," He answered making your mouth fall open as you began to giggle softly at the title track, asking him for lyrics as your hand slowly and innocently began to massage Felix's thigh not noticing what you were doing at first. The thing was that one small touch from you sent Felix into a spiral, pining after you as he felt your hand raising higher on his leg but you didn't seem to notice and if you did you were doing a good job at playing dumb. 

"Lix? You okay?" Chan's voice made you turn to look at your boyfriend who was gripping onto his glass of water so tight his knuckles were beginning to turn white and his cheeks were red. 

"Lixie?" Your voice came out almost as innocent as your touch but as soon as you felt Felix's leg twitch you knew what was going on and what was making him like this. 

"Feeling a little light-headed," He lied as he raised the glass to his lips and took a sip but you smirked to yourself. Raising your hand towards the crotch of his pants where you gently ran your fingers over the outline of his cock, just like you thought. He was hard and clearly ready for you which only made you smirk more at the thought of teasing him under the table in front of everybody.

"I'll get you some ice," Seungmin said as he got up from his seat and headed behind you into the freezer. 

"My poor baby," You cooed in Felix's ear, your breath sending shivers down his back and he knew then that you were teasing him.  

"Babe," He hissed to you so that only you could hear him but you ignored him starting to palm him through his trousers as you kissed his cheek softly. Playing innocent around the boys while you were doing something completely opposite out of their line of sight. 

You felt Felix twitch under your touch as you continued to palm him through the denim fabric of his jeans so you rubbed your hand down his thigh giving him a break but it only made him grunt out. 

"I'll get you back," You nodded at him as he whispered into your ear, 

"Not yet, the boys are all here." You stared at him and he glared back at you, wishing he'd never agreed to your deal about not having sex when the boys were at the dorms. 

"What if we had ice c-cream for dessert?" Felix stuttered through his sentence as you began to rub him again but he managed to keep his cool. Locking eyes with Chan as he hoped they would go to the store and buy something for you to share, 

"Ice cream sounds nice," Minho agreed looking at the boys for their opinions. 

"Sure. We could all go for a walk-"

"No! No! I mean-" Felix cleared his throat as he realised how quickly he had cut off Hyunjin and he bit down on his lip. 

"Y/n and I can stay here...We'll do the dishes," Your hands were on the table now, staring at Felix in horror as you realised he was about to get all of the boys out of the house for one reason and one reason alone. Punishment time. 

"If that means I don't have to do the dishes I am completely fine with that," Changbin called out as he rushed up to get his coat and mask hurrying so nobody would change their mind. 

"Amen to that," Jeongin chimed in, following in Changbin's footsteps as he headed for the coat rack at the entrance of the dorms. 

"Dish duty, I'll wash you dry," You told Felix as you began to run hot water from the faucet. Felix let out a dark chuckle as he came up to stand behind you. Grinding against you so you could feel what you had done to him over the course of the last hour under the table. 

"Oh no. We're not doing any dishes, not yet." He bit down on your ear lobe as you let out a shaky breath, 

"W-What if the boys come home and ask why they're not done yet?" Your eyes fluttered closed as Felix continued to kiss and suck down your neck until he reached your shoulder. 

"Then you'll explain something to them. I need you." He growled, running his hand up your thigh, lifting up your dress as you gasped out at the sudden cold air to your core. 

"My dirty girl," He mumbled against your neck spinning you around so suddenly you dropped one of the plastic cups you had been holding.

"Up on the side," You frowned at his words not moving, 

"Why the side?" You questioned, staring at the countertop behind you as he smirked. 

"You're right, food is meant to be eaten at the table." You let out a small squeal as he suddenly picked you up, carrying you over to the kitchen table before laying you down on the hardwood. Grabbing your ankles he pulled you to the edge of the table, putting your feet onto the wood and slowly spreading your legs to expose your clothed core. 

"My dessert," He chuckled, running his thumb over your clit through your underwear. 

"I haven't even touched you yet and look at you, already dripping." You whimpered as he began to pull down your underwear, lifting up your ass so that he could get them off with ease. He let out a small moan as he watched your core closely, licking his lips at the sight of you.

"Fuck, I'm starving." He smirked at you, putting your underwear into his pocket before kissing either of your thighs.

"Mind if I get a taste?" You hated that he was going to take his time with you when you both knew you wanted this to go fast so you could be together before the boys came home. 

"Lixie," You protested as he continued to tease you but he ignored you continuing to kiss your thighs until he reached your core. Blowing cold air onto your clit before smirking wildly at you as you let out small whimpers. 

"Lix." You hissed as he took his time, 

"I need you, don't tease." You moaned out as you locked eyes with him, he smirked sinking down onto his knees in front of you and he ran his tongue through your folds slowly a few times before attaching his lips to your clit. Moaning out in sync with you as he pushed his face deeper against your core, burying himself deep into you. 

"F-Fuck!" You cried out as he moans out against your clit, sending a vibration over your body that made you cry out his name.

"Felix!" You moaned out, running your hands down to his hair and threading your fingers through, begging him not to stop as he began to lap up your juices. Sliding two fingers into you as you cried out his name. Your legs began to shake as you felt yourself getting closer. 

"L-Lix- close," Was all you could manage to muster out as he hummed against your cunt. Dragging his tongue up the length of your clit and humming once again. Your body shook as he continued to do it over and over again, eating you out as if you were the ice cream he'd sent the boys out to get. 

"Felix!" You mewled out shaking your head as you knew you were going to cum but he continued to push against you. Staring up into your eyes as he smirked, 

"Cum." He ordered you, gripping onto your thighs tightly as he continued to pump two fingers into you roughly, curling them up as you moaned out his name. The pleasure exploding inside of you as you threw your head back against the wooden table, screaming out his name as he continued to eat you out prolonging your orgasm until you were shaking violently from his touch. 

"Cute," He chuckled darkly, wiping the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand as he stared down at you, a panting mess. 

"Your turn," You hummed as you slid down from the table, doing your best not to lose your balance as you pushed him onto the table. He leant against the edge of the table staring down at you as you shakily undid his trousers and pulled them down to expose his cock. You let out a gasp as you felt drool running down the corner of your mouth. Your eyes staring at his erection as Felix watched you closely, waiting to see what you would do. A giant smile took over his face as you licked him from base to tip before taking him into your mouth. He let out a groan as you began to take his cock in and out of your mouth periodically, pushing yourself deep so you could gag on it. 

"O-Oh fuck," He moaned out rolling his hips in time with you as you moaned around him, looking up to see him in total bliss. His eyes were fluttering as he let out small moans and whines, you continued to take him into your mouth. Gargling and gagging around him as you tried to please him as much as you could with your mouth but he suddenly held you down on his cock. 

"J-Just like that," He groaned out as your throat contracted around his cock for a second before he pulled you off him and moaned, you had a string of saliva and cum dripping from your lips and your eyes were tearing up but you'd never looked so sexy, 

"T-Table, quick." He moaned out, kicking off his trousers as you hoped back onto the table. Hearing him chuckle as you at the edge of the table, 

"No, no princess. Ass up, chest against the wood." You whimpered sliding down from the table and bending over so you were exposed to him. He pushed up your dress and slapped your ass cheek playfully, letting out a small moan as you bucked against his touch. 

"So obedient for me after being a tease during the meal," You shivered as he began to run his cock between your wet folds, your clit throbbing out for him to sink into you. 

"Tell me how much you want me," He was breathing heavily now as he continued to rub your cock through your wetness, you knew he needed you as much as you needed him so you weren't going to tease him anymore. 

"I-I need it, I need it more than ever...L-Lixie it's been too long." You whimpered in submission and Felix let out a whine. Sinking into you as you let out a loud moan, hands gripping onto the edges of the table. 

"All mine," He moaned out as he pulled back out of you looking down at his cock that was covered in your juices, 

"So fucking hot." He praised as he began to move inside of you once again. His dancer hips snapping in and out of you in practised motions as he fucked you, making you cry out as it built up your orgasm inside of you. 

"Fuck! Felix!" You cried out as he continued to fuck into you, making your eyes roll back as you laid your head against the cold wood, 

"Feel good baby?" He asked rhetorically as he continued to snap in and out of you at an unruly pace. 

His phone lit up on the table and he smirked feeling you clenching around him, he knew you were close so he told you to check his phone, 

"Who is it?" He questioned as he continued to slam into you, moaning out as he felt your wet walls clench around him once again just the way he wanted.

"T-The boys, they're j-just down the road," You dropped his phone as he pulled at your hips, 

"You better cum quickly then, unless you want them to see you like this," He hummed at you, reaching down to rub your clit as he continued to fuck into you.

"Do you want them to see how much of a cock whore you are, just for me?" You screamed out at the name and Felix let out a dark laugh, 

"You like that name? Looks like I'll have to use it more often my little cock whore," Without warning, you came around his cock letting out a pathetic squeak as your lips parted and his name was the only thing you knew what to say. Cumming around him until he thrust into you holding himself deep as he came hard. Hips jittering as he held you close to him, letting his hot cum fill you up as you struggled to think straight.  

After a couple of seconds, Felix pulled out of you, grabbing some napkins as he kissed your cheeks holding the napkins at your core. 

"Go clean up, I'll make a start on the dishes," He whispered to you, kissing you before you began to carefully run in the direction of the bathroom. The boys walking through the door a short time later and yelling out that they had ice cream and other snacks ready for when the dishes were all done. 

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